Week one of my marathon training. Walked home Monday- 4.4 miles. Was supposed to do it again last night but let’s just say that didn’t happen and was a lazy thing this morning even though I woke up at 6. It was just much nicer to stay snuggled to Stuart and listen to him snore.Can’t walk tonight or at lunch so need to be good the rest of the week.And the week after.And the week after. . .
And the serpent (Al) said to Nicole, “Fancy a Pint?”
Posted on April 23, 2008 @ 6:20 am
Fancy Dress Party
Posted on April 15, 2008 @ 9:12 pm
Because Scott asked for photos, I give you photos. Click here for Saturday night silliness.
Is rather pathetic. . . I only lasted about an hour and a half in my high heels. The transvestites you can see in the picture behind me lasted in their Manolo’s until three. They also had better legs than me. But that can’t be helped. Most men that are willing to put on a dress look better in it than the average woman will.
Ssssssshhhhhhhh!
Posted on April 12, 2008 @ 10:41 am
Tonight I am going to my first Fancy Dress party. When I first heard the phrase ‘fancy dress’ I assumed that it was a euphemism for black tie. But no, ‘fancy dress’ means costume party. The odd thing is Brits don’t do Halloween really but they love fancy dress parties.
Tonight it is for a work mate’s Thirtieth Birthday and the theme is to come dressed as what you wanted to be when you were little.
I’ve had a bit of a hard time. At first I thought of Princess Leia but that look wouldn’t be particularly attractive on me. Laura Ingles Wilder and Inspector Cloussou gave me a similar problem. I thought about Marilyn Monroe not out of any particular wish to be her, but because I wanted to be an actress and it would be a fun chance to vamp it up. That choice however would have required my dropping 70 quid between the dress and the wig.
I’ve settled on a sexy librarian, which only requires me to buy some fishnets. Wearing my hair up in a chignon, my 1950’s cats eye glasses, brown silk (tight) shirt, black skirt, wicked high heels that put up to around 5’6’’ (taking ballet flats with me for walking to the tube and to switch out when the inevitable pain becomes too much) and will be carrying a copy of The New York Public Library Desk Reference.
Since Stuart has decided that he is drinking, “Ad hoc. Don’t look at me like that. I can drink if I want to.” I may decide to allow myself a few cocktails. I was bad in New York. My defence is it came after I got a text from Stuart that told me that he was lashed.
For Buettners 40h Matt and I are going to arrange for him to receive a coffin at work. That should fuck him up for a while.
It couldn’t have come at the worst time. I was waiting for my friends at a very sexy New Yorky steak house and I was gagging for a glass of red. I used his transgression as a get out of jail free card for some vino.
He wasn’t happy that I could tell he was drinking from a text.
On the wagon
Posted on April 1, 2008 @ 3:46 pm
Stuart and I are now on the wagon. As in the not drinking wagon. So here I am.
Not drinking.
Not having one.
No sir-ree Bob.
(What is it about quitting drinking that makes you want to drink?)
Is good though because I’ve gained two stone since I’ve moved here and I’m sure it is entirely due to beer. And vin rouge. And me being a lazy cow.
I’ve gone a month here and there not drinking, but overall I have been rather bad since I’ve moved here. Drink at least two times a week (sometimes more like four) sometimes it would be just one or two pints. (What am I saying. It was never just one) and sometimes it would be five. Times that by four times a week and that is a lot of guinness.
I don’t know if I’ve known Stuart to go an entire week off the sauce, but he tells me that I am wrong and that he has. I am choosing to believe him.
Told Al what we were doing. “It sucks because I’m going to NYC next week.”
“He won’t know.”
“That’s wrong.”
“True. And if you don’t drink when you are away from each other and he does, then you have the moral high ground.”
“Exactly.”
So, keep a good thought for Stu and I on day one on the Train to Soberville.
This is not an April Fool’s Day joke.
I wish it was, cause I really could use a drink.
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses!
Posted on March 30, 2008 @ 6:13 pm
Jen had taken me to the Bread and Roses a lovely pub tucked away on Clapham Manor Street a year or so ago and we’ve gone a couple times since.
Today I wanted to read the paper and relax so I walked to Clapham and considered my choices of venues when I remembered B&R. Nice pub. Not too busy. Good music. Friendly staff. Was the perfect afternoon reading the paper cover to cover while nursing a pint.
Something about the name reminded me of something. . . but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
When I came home, I looked it up online and was pleased to discover that not only is it a nice pub, It is run by The Workers Beer Company which raises funds for trades union and it takes its name from the famous poem that came out of a female textile workers strike in 1912.
I think it is going to be my new local.
Beer Blessed By the hand of God
Posted on March 13, 2008 @ 10:33 pm
My boss is visiting from the US and we went to dinner tonight at The Lowlander, a Belgian café that has as any good Belgian café would, excellent Moules Frites and an extensive beer selection.
I always order Westmalle Dubbel because I like the taste. The fact that it is 7% alcohol content is a pleasant side effect.
Our waiter was Japanese and kept saying cheers in that knee jerk way that all expats including myself do.
When we were leaving, after I had consumed my Moules Fritte and three Westmalle Dubbels, he suggested that I be sure to drink some water so that I wouldn’t be dehydrated.
I controlled myself from patting his cheek and saying, “Oh sweetie. You have NO idea. . .”
Intervention
Posted on March 1, 2008 @ 10:12 am
Overheard Conversation:
“I think you’re an alcoholic.”
“I’m not an alcoholic. I just drink because I’m lonely and depressed.”
THE VOMITORIUM Part Deux
Posted on February 25, 2008 @ 5:39 pm
Stuart called out from his office.“What’s that funny smell?”
“Carpet air freshener.”
“Oh.”
“It think it smells better than vomit.”
“. . .oh.”
The vomitorium
Posted on February 23, 2008 @ 2:37 pm
Marriage. For better or worse. Last night was one of the for worse.
Woke up at 1:30 to Stuart yelling at me. “How can you sleep through that?”
“Wha-grumble-slerp-huh?”
“I was sick! Did you not HEAR ME? Look and it’s everywhere, EVERYWHERE and HOW COULD YOU SLEEP THROUGH THAT!”
I was awake now.
Stuart was in the doorway looking a bit wild and then the smell hit me.
He had been sick in the night.
There was sick on the duvet. There was a big pile of sick on his side of the bed. There was a trail of sick down the two flights of stairs to the loo.
How could I sleep through that indeed? Being a deep sleeper can be a good and bad thing.
Never mind that I had slept through his being ill, I was not appreciative of being woken up by being screamed at especially when I had to also clean up his goo.
We tried to clean it up the best that we could and then barricaded ourselves in the living room since that was the only room that didn’t ming.
He thinks his audition for the Exorcist was because of a cold he has been fighting and the coughing fit sparked it. I think the coughing fit sparked a fuse from his not eating food and drinking too much lager.
Today between my nursing his man flu we bought carpet-cleaning supplies.
I only once reminded him that the couple of times that I have been ill I have been able to make it to the toilet and I certainly didn’t wake him up screaming that he wasn’t aware of my upchuck status.
Instead I have been plying toast and tea on him and biting my tongue from saying that his illness is a hangover. It helps that every so often he looks at me with puppy dog eyes.
“I’m sorry.
The morning after last night
Posted on February 13, 2008 @ 4:36 pm
Head. Hurts. Can’t fkjdjfodsujfidsfjnmvcxv-02qief
>think.
Want. eggs
and grease. a vat- og of oh OH- head. I moved it.
neverdrinkingagainuntilnexttime
