Things to do when you're procastinating

Anything to avoid studying, anything.

You Are 73% Indie

You're a very indie person, and admit it, you look down a little on people who strive to be normal. You'll indulge in a little mainstream pop culture every now and then. But for you, anything not indie is a guilty pleasure!

http://www.blogthings.com/howindieareyouquiz/">How Indie Are You?

How interesting. I will own to adoring Kylie.

You Are Somewhat Mature

You definitely act like an adult sometimes, but a big part of you is still a kid at heart. While your immature side is definitely fun, you're going to have to grow up sooner or later.

http://www.blogthings.com/areyouimmaturequiz/">Are You Immature?

Damn.

You Are 40% Boyish and 60% Girlish

You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch. Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes. You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them. You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.

http://www.blogthings.com/howboyishorgirlishareyouquiz/">How Boyish or Girlish Are You?

Aargh the eunochs!

You Should Be a Painter

You have the vision, patience, and skill to bring your unique visions to canvas. And you're even tempered enough not to cut your ear off in the process!

http://www.blogthings.com/whatsortofartistshouldyoubequiz/">What Sort of Artist Should You Be?

Hmmm.

You're 45% Irish

You're probably less Irish than you think you are... But you're still more Irish than most.

http://www.blogthings.com/howirishareyouquiz/">How Irish Are You?

I beg your pardon, I sport an Irish surname and am third generation Irish.

Your Inner Eye Color Is Green

You're off-scale unique and creative - just like green eyes You're peaceful, relaxed, and easy to be around You've got an exotic flair that draws men in... with unique beauty.

http://www.blogthings.com/whatcoloreyedwomanareyoureallyquiz/">What Color Eyed Woman Are You Really?

I already have green eyes you dingbat.

Your Inner Muse is Thalia

You are most like this playful muse of comedy. Life is all about laughter to you, and you're a natural comic. You make people laugh until their sides split. And you're always up for some play time!

http://www.blogthings.com/whatmuseareyouquiz/">What Muse Are You?

How true. Apparently I laugh too much.

You Are A Little Snobby

And being a little snobby every once and a while is totally allowed. Because if no one was ever snobby, no one would ever try to dress up or look pretty. And while you do enjoy the finest things in life (that you can afford), you tire of superficiality. You know there's more to life than what's just on the surface.

http://www.blogthings.com/areyouasnobbygirlquiz/">Are You a Snobby Girl?

Apparently snobbery is in my DNA.

You Should Be In Atomic Kitten

Cute and stylish - you're the perfect little pop package. Oh, and you can sing a little too :-)

http://www.blogthings.com/whatgirlgroupshouldyoubeinquiz/">What Girl Group Should You Be In?

I can sing in Mandarin Chinese. But I do not think the charts are quite ready for that yet.

You Are Marilyn Monroe

A classic tortured beauty You're the dream girl of many men Yet they never seem to treat you right

http://www.blogthings.com/whatfamouspinupareyouquiz/">What Famous Pinup Are You?

I love Marilyn!

What Your Little Black Dress Says About You

You are lively and outgoing. You are naturally friendly. You enjoy meeting new people and making new connections. Your style is whimsical and unique. You're good at putting together interesting outfits. If you were a shoe, you would be: High heeled boots

http://www.blogthings.com/thelittleblackdresstest/">The Little Black Dress Test

Someone once described me as whimsical! And if I were a shoe...I would be a glass slipper.

You Are Pretty Happy Being Single

You have a full, fun life. And you definitely don't need love to be content. Of course, being single can get you down a little. Especially when you've been single for a while. But you know how to be patient and wait for the right person. You're life is too good to settle for anything!

http://www.blogthings.com/areyouhappybeingsinglequiz/">Are You Happy Being Single?

These things are disturbinly profound.

Your Blog Should Be Purple

You're an expressive, offbeat blogger who tends to write about anything and everything. You tend to set blogging trends, and you're the most likely to write your own meme or survey. You are a bit distant though. Your blog is all about you - not what anyone else has to say.

http://www.blogthings.com/whatcolorshouldyourblogorjournalbequiz/">What Color Should Your Blog or Journal Be?

Its red and black. Deal with it.

Your Inner Pop Princess Is Hilary Duff

"I'm shedding Shedding every color Trying to find a pigment of truth Beneath my skin" You're sweet and cute, but a little more complex than that.

Who's" Your Inner Pop Princess?

Ruddy hell.

You Would Be a Pet Bird

You're intelligent and witty, yet surprisingly low maintenance. You charm people easily, and they usually love you a lot more than you love them. You resent anyone who tries to own or control you. You refuse to be fenced in. Why you would make a great pet: You're very smart and entertaining Why you would make a bad pet: You're not interested in being anyone's pet! What you would love about being a bird: Flying, obviously What you would hate about being a bird: Being caged

http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofpetwouldyoubequiz/">What Kind of Pet Would You Be?

Wow, such a spot on description.

You Are A Romantic

You life your life like a fairy tale... or at least you try to. Living for magical moments, you believe there's only one true love for you. Love is the most important thing in your life, and you don't take it for granted. Your perfect match loves to be in love as much as you do!

http://www.blogthings.com/areyouromanticorrealisticquiz/">Are You Romantic or Realistic?

Maybe that's the problem with my life.

You are a Balanced Babe!

You're direct and to the point, but never dramatic You've got the confidence to speak your mind to anyone But you leave the theatrics to Hollywood Level headed and emotionally stable, no wonder everyone loves you

http://www.blogthings.com/howmuchofadramaqueenareyouquiz/">How Much of a Drama Queen Are You?

Actually, I live in Temper Tantrum Central.

What Carol-Louise Means

You are very open. You communicate well, and you connect with other people easily. You are a naturally creative person. Ideas just flow from your mind. A true chameleon, you are many things at different points in your life. You are very adaptable. You are usually the best at everything ... you strive for perfection. You are confident, authoritative, and aggressive. You have the classic "Type A" personality. You are wild, crazy, and a huge rebel. You're always up to something. You have a ton of energy, and most people can't handle you. You're very intense. You definitely are a handful, and you're likely to get in trouble. But your kind of trouble is a lot of fun. You are well rounded, with a complete perspective on life. You are solid and dependable. You are loyal, and people can count on you. At times, you can be a bit too serious. You tend to put too much pressure on yourself. You are relaxed, chill, and very likely to go with the flow. You are light hearted and accepting. You don't get worked up easily. Well adjusted and incredibly happy, many people wonder what your secret to life is. You are a very lucky person. Things just always seem to go your way. And because you're so lucky, you don't really have a lot of worries. You just hope for the best in life. You're sometimes a little guilty of being greedy. Spread your luck around a little to people who need it. You tend to be pretty tightly wound. It's easy to get you excited... which can be a good or bad thing. You have a lot of enthusiasm, but it fades rather quickly. You don't stick with any one thing for very long. You have the drive to accomplish a lot in a short amount of time. Your biggest problem is making sure you finish the projects you start. You are the total package - suave, sexy, smart, and strong. You have the whole world under your spell, and you can influence almost everyone you know. You don't always resist your urges to crush the weak. Just remember, they don't have as much going for them as you do. You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone. You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together. At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together.

What's" Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

Wow!

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Cult Classic

Quirky, offbeat, and even a little campy - your life appeals to a select few. But if someone's obsessed with you, look out! Your fans are downright freaky. Your best movie matches: Office Space, Showgirls, The Big Lebowski

http://www.blogthings.com/ifyourlifewasamoviewhatgenrewoulditbequiz/">If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

I would say my life was more a comedy.

You Are Somewhat Virtuous

You are occasionally a good person, but you often stop short at doing the right thing. It's just a lot easier (and more fun) to be bad! You do have a reputation to uphold. Deep down, you're a fairly good person. But no one's perfect. You're just a lot less perfect than most people! Where You Are Virtuous You have the virtue of Sincerity. You are not deceitful, and you always have the best intentions. You have the virtue of Temperance. You don't eat or drink excessively. You have the virtue of Cleanliness. You keep yourself and your home clean. Where You Are Not Virtuous You lack the virtue of Humility. You tend to annoy people with your bragging. You lack the virtue of Chastity. You aren't guarded when it comes to intimacy. You lack the virtue of Industry. You have trouble doing what's important, and you tend to waste time.

http://www.blogthings.com/areyouvirtuousquiz/">Are You Virtuous?

Jesus if you are reading, look away.

To what extent did Mussolini succeed in creating a tolitarian state?

I needed change for the bus so I skipped into a leetle second hand shop and purchased 'Coraline' and 'Jigs and Reels' for a song as in this song cost one pound ninety eight exactly. There was a girl measuring curtains with an old lady, a girl who looked exactly like the Bennet in a Beret, right down to the piquant face, odd freckles and curtain of long dark hair. If I was involved in casting a film version of the Bennet in a Beret, I would have cast her on the spot as the Bennet in a Beret. It was rather frightening to be honest to be confronted with a figment of your imagination embodied in the flesh. But she was also measuring my dream pair of curtains, heavy, velvet bottle green curtains and they were within three feet of my grasping hands. But I had to restrain myself for I couldn't possibly go the libraire, that virtuous place of learning and knowledge, armed with a pair of massive curtains.
Jane and the Girl Who Works in the Onion *she has a name but I must protect her identity* are excellent students revising for the forthcoming hell that is the history of Europe. This hell involves two World Wars, a Cold War and a Russian Revolution thrown in for good measure. It also involves Mussolini and Hitler who are very definitely, probably paying up their mortgage in hell.
I, myself, have been blithely looking the other way, daydreaming about Winston Churchill's psychic abilities and his kitchen staff. I wish fervently I had kitchen staff then I wouldn't be in danger of demolishing my kitchen every time I happen to glance at a spoon. I would like to possess an egg whisk but it is unfortunately not happening. Which is probably a good thing.
I gave Jane a nice bundle of books about incest, Sargasso seas, blind assassins, monday girls and so forth. Oh and Animal Farm which I conveniently stumbled upon last night, whilst rootling about a bookcase. I knew there was a copy of it lurking somewhere but to accidentally unearth it without making a pile of hardback books tumble onto my head, is nothing short of a literary miracle.
I fear I may be the unofficial librarian of my palatial home.
I was in stuck headfirst in the linen cupboard when I heard this peculiar clunking. It is coming from the kitchen. Patch appears to be trying to open the cupboard under the sink but failing miserably. I return to the linen cupboard only to hear once again this peculiar clunking. So I open the cupboard under the sink's door, only to find Buffy. Some twat of a person had accidentally trapped her in there and Patch had been trying to liberate her. That twat was me for I had shut the door, after seeing it open. I had no idea she was in there. Tis good she knows how to clunk.
Rachel and I watched Doctor Who last night, it was rather spiffing. We have learnt new catchphrases, 'It's a song!' *wave hands about in jazz fashion* and 'The Towering Inferno!' Furthermore, the Doctor is resistant to cyanide if you shove some anchovies down his throat. There was Agatha Christie in it. She had a massive beak of a nose which was kind of distracting. She looked like a parrot. There was an influx of actors/actresses from Jane Austen adaptations which was even more distracting because I kept pointing out, 'Oh there is Sir William Lucas in a wheelchair!' 'Catherine Morland with a Cockney accent!' and 'Agatha is that woman obsessed with muslin!'
Then there was the bizarre sight of Donny Osmond just appearing out of thin air, grabbing Ray Winstone and seranading him with 'Puppy Love'. That was just bizarre, especially in the middle of the night and you're really, really tired and you don't know if it's an optical illusion.

~*~ Tis Lord Wotton not Lord Wutton ~*~

~*~ I feel your cat’s eyes on me, phosphor in the night ~*~

After dragging Rob to the second hand shop yesterday, I got ‘The True Darcy Spirit’, ‘Sons and Lovers’, ‘The Night Watch’, ‘The Welsh Girl’ and ‘The Many Lives & Secret Sorrows of Josephine B’. One is one of these many sequels to Pride and Prejudice which I collect because I am sad, one is one I felt a duty to buy because it is a ‘classic’, one is one I liked the cover of and because it is set in the Forties and the other is about Napoleon- by proxy. It’s about his wife. I began reading ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’ when I was about thirteen and my dear father caught me reading it. He looked quite shocked because he exclaimed it was slightly unsuitable for someone my age because it is a dirty book- apparently. I said how do you know. And he said because he read it. So I said, with teenage logic, well how can you read it and I can’t? In fact, there is a hole in that argument- I think. But its not a dirty book at all, it’s quite classy when one considers the material it deals with.
I’ve read worse.
To be honest Mr D.H. Lawrence is quite boring, even when dealing with racy content and the fact my dear father backed down, and said I could read it, I gave up about twenty or so pages in. In fact, my dear father furthermore sanctioned the influence of Mr Lawrence in my life by buying ‘Women in Love’ which I started and subsequently gave up.
My dear father flicked through ‘Atonement’ and he told me that he deemed it a little racy. To which I scoffed, the only racy bit is the library scene. In fact, he was talking about a bit where the author is describing Cecilia or something and he goes into explicit detail. For a womaniser, my dear father is slightly prudish around the ears.
I made waffle sandwiches. They are easy to make. All you do is purchase a packet of Birds’ Eye Waffles, (never buy the cheap version of the humble waffle. They have lumps in them), grill them until golden (don’t burn them like I do, they tend to possess quite an odour) and get some bread (white, I made a promise to buy brown but white is best I’m afraid). Slap a lovely golden waffle between the two slices of white (I repeat white) bread and munch until your heart’s content.
I threw my phone at Rachel. It sort of didn’t work for a bit until I hit it a bit and it’s working okish now but I think the bloody thing is going to die on me
The Crone is here in my own house. That means an evil stepmother is within my walls. She is evil, she took a knife to Uncle Louis Walsh and she said to my dear father that her own daughter wouldn’t wear other peoples’ dresses. I wish they would all stop comparing me to the Paragon of Virtue. I actually think I am being rather harsh towards that girl because she gave me a microwave. It’s just that she casts me in a bad light because she is bloody well about perfect. But that isn’t really her fault. Anyways the Crone is here, breathing poison gas.
And she asks too many questions. Plus she suffers from being very narrow-minded.
I was texting Rob; I think I crossed the line though because I was dictating over the airwaves. So there is a silence for a bit, and I’m tap tap this out about waffles and ‘Women in Love’ and then he phones. So I text ‘You called?’ I wasn’t too sure why he would phone. In fact, I’m lying. It involves him telling me something as we’re walking up a hill, and I say too loudly ‘SHE STRADDLED YOU!?’ provoking two boys lying suspiciously on the grass together, to laugh at me. It further involves another chick that would like to jump his bones. And liquor like every good B-movie. And me texting a rather witty reply that I was merely delivering a message from his conscience. This was because he sent a rather cheeky message. That is the multiple reasons why he phoned me.
However the Crone’s beady eyes are on me like two buttons on a snowman’s face. Tis a good thing that the phone was on silent or I would be being cross-examined. It’s like that in my house, someone calls and everyone within reach of the front door joins in the conversation. I do it to Rachel and to my dear father, but being a hypocrite I don’t relish it happening to me. When Rob phoned me up to sing happy birthday down the phone, accompanied by his guitar, I had to shut the door and crouch behind the bed. And I found out my dear father was hovering suspiciously silent down the hall.
Eavesdropping is rife. When he phones up the man who lives down the stairs, Rachel and me drop to the floor and press our ears to the carpet because our floor is the man down below’s stairs ceiling and we can hear his end of the conversation. So therefore we can hear both ends of the conversation.
Sad but true. Its wrong but that man is an Orangeman with an Irish name so he deserves all he gets.
Anyways, Rob phones again and the phone slips out of my fingers, into the magazine rack and I lose it amongst all the magazines. The nub and gist of this phone fandango is that Rob was phoning because he wanted me to know that he was going to rise above the temptations of certain ladies and liquor. I think that was very noble of him. Well maybe it is because he possesses a noble nose. The same way Jane’ man possesses superb pieces of eyebrow architecture. I think when one studies portraiture for two years, it tends to warp one’s perspective of people’s facial structure. Portraiture was part of my portfolio so I had to focus on people’s faces a lot and I mean a lot. Without sounding pompous, portraiture was merely a natural progression because since I was little I was drawing people’s faces. I was one very sad little girl, I used to spend days trying to draw Anne Boleyn, copying that portrait I think by Holbein. The nice art teacher, the one I was his pet, he said heartily I should do faces and hence the progression to portraiture. And my warped perspective of people’s faces.
As I was saying, Rob has a nobly shaped nose. Which is perhaps he decided to trench his noble intentions in a wordy and worthy text. However, I think it was terribly decent of him and I trust him not to make a twit of himself.
This is a man that said we should be more like Sonny and Cher. To which I replied darkly Sonny had died in a skiing accident.
Living at home is kind of hard right now with stepmothers from hell and a womaniser for a father. He burst into the bathroom when I was washing my lengthy ropes of hair, bellowing where are you hiding the cat! Why on earth would I conceal a cat in the bathroom? It would be more like the cat to conceal me in the bathroom. It transpires Rachel is trying to smuggle the cat to somewhere. Buffy is swiftly rescued. We acquired the chair of my dreams a swingy chair but its broken somewhere because when you sit on it, it suddenly drops down to almost floor level. My dear father has christened it the Sweeney Todd chair which is why I want to invite that woman who tried to get me and Rachel arrested for underage drinking, into our home and ask her to take a seat in the Sweeney Todd chair so she suddenly tips down to the floor. Mind you, if she were transformed into a pile of sausages, she would give you food poisoning. Buffy likes to be gently span around on the chair, which is kind of bizarre, it enjoys a good twirl so it does. Patch views the chair in the same light as a demon. I was eating a large slab of gingerbread with a spoon and Buffy lets out an indignant meow before trying to bully me into handing the slab of gingerbread over. This was achieved by her trying to snatch it off the plate and running away with it. Buffy is extremely adept at stealing from stepmothers’ handbags. Her theft of gingerbread is legendary.
Rachel told me the other day that she wished she had a normal sister. This was because I was hanging upside down on a chair and chanting along to Dancing Queen. Rachel pretends to be plastic fantastic, she walks and talks the part of Plastic Princess but its only a front because she is obsessed with a very old boat which goes by the name Titanic, read philosophy, is teaching herself Norwegian, I converted her to Abba and she told me she would kill me if I let anyone know that our dear father said very loudly in a café that she fancied David Bowie and apparently everyone had looked at her in disgust.
I do not care about the rise of the Nazis, why can’t it be about the rise of the Wombles instead? I can write at length about how Winston Churchill was psychic but not the rise of the Nazis. I got the book ‘The Sixth Wife’ all about Catherine Parr and another Georgette Heyer novel. Also a book about Montaigne’s essays, in which he deals with cannibals.
I think I have procrastinated quite spectacularly now.

rambling...

Apparently a hot boy was giving me the eye yesterday, due to his head swivelling as he swaggered past. That is according to my dear father who said he looked like a cocky little man. It was true though, this chap was a cocky little man, he even had the standard tubby sidekick. The worse thing was this cocky little man was also simoultanously casting his eye on this chick who The Prick With A Conscience hit on a few years ago, right in front of me because he is after all a Prick With A Conscience.

Then later, I had to move seats because this Ned in a grotty skip hat kept watching me and I didn't want to be watched by a Ned whilst I'm trying to eat supper.

Rachel and I are considered local beauties where we live, we're very popular with the male population what with the wolf whistling and cat calling that occurs every time we step out of the door. Before, my head swells, let's just say there is really no competition for me and Rachel to compete against so we're not not really as wonderful as we are made out to be.

The bloke next door said he liked both me and Rachel so I was slightly appalled at this hint of a sisterly sandwich, especially considering Rachel's slightly tender years of being sixteen so the next time he came in for a cup of tea, I mixed his brew with the cats' drinking water after they had a good drink of water. He drank his lovely cup of tea.

The Prick With A Conscience, according to the grapevine, has hooked up with Barbie, as in a real life Barbie doll with platinum hair, a full array of trendy, skimpy clothes and pneumatic breasts. All I can say, is good luck to the pair of them. And I do not mean her inflatable breasts; I mean him and her because a life size Barbie doll is exactly what he needs. Since, he spent a long time torn between liking me because I was different and trying to turn me into Barbie to satisfy his more conventional tastes, he now has the whole package with Barbie. I do not know if Barbie will be enough though to make him stop him acting like a complete obsessive twit though about me. Seriously though, I think he needs to be happy with someone of his own ilk and hopefully he's found that someone to make him happy.

Myself, seeing him just creates an odd twinge now and again and I think that twinge is just for the past's sake.

I was talking to Crisp Packet on MSN and nearly hit the computer screen. Before, he had no interest in me at all that way, a chance run in with him at the Onion with long hair a short skirt and he wants me. And he still does except the bloody rat is already seeing someone. And he apparently has another chick on his hands that wants him. But he is already seeing someone so he doesn't know what to do. But he confessed that he liked me! And I thought it was only me! And he is already in some sort of thing with another chick!

Even though, I do not like him that way, I was pretty pissed off particularly since he is already seeing someone. He shouldn't be scamming on susceptible females.

Rachel was talking to Hana on her mobile, and somehow I ended up giving Hana a huge lecture and then it progressed into a screaming match between me and Rachel which culminated in me throwing my phone at her. Happy days.

I have tried to stop maligning Rob but it isn't easy. If he wants to go somewhere, I have to tell him he doesn't need to ask permission or anything, we can just go. Somehow today was about what he wanted to do instead of me but it ended up about it all being about ME with me dragging him to this second hand bookshop place and he carried my bag for me all the way there and back, which was pretty impressive because my bag was very very heavy and we got lost as well and it was very very far away this shop. Rob says he is going to stop being so indulgent but he isn't going to I do not think for I stuck a lot of sticky price tags on him and he didn't stop me at all. Well, until he peeled them off and flung them in the bin that is.

He said I had eyebrows like anorexic caterpillars. I told him him I was going to shave my head and he was trying to stop himself from making a personal remark about it, he just said that some people liked crazy hair. You see, Rob is a fully paid up member of my hair's fan club, so it is only natural that I make death threats to my hair in front of him to see him weep.

He frightened me for a moment because he said 'I don't mean this to sound like I've been spying on you or anything'... I was like what the crivvens? It turns out he was referring to the time, a very long time ago *in my little world I think weeks ago* that I had been cruising the internet for the directions to this place I have to go to *child prodigy reasons involving three course meal. very embarassing, now you all know i am a secret egghead*. I still haven't figured out how to get to Egghead HeadQuarters either. In fact, I have to do make a speech and a presentation involving slideshows next year at the Egghead Convention. They had guys who were former child prodigies who now work for Microsoft and IBM, do presentations at this year's Egghead Convention so its a nail biting moment to contemplate.

Anyways, it took a second to realise what he was waffling about so the nib and gist of it is, is that he is going to take me there, go to a pub for a few hours and then collect me *i think*... I'm not sure, I think I need a magic carpet.

I started reading 'The Picture of Dorian Gray.' A boy called Dorian once said to a bunch of girls who were going to attack me or whatever it was they were planning, they never really specified what their vile deed was going to be, that if they ever laid a finger on me, he would kill them. The Prick With A Conscience heckled that poor heroic bloke for ages and yet Dorian still defended me like a true hero. Anyways, I started reading it and its all about the Wutton man and that painter mooning about the portrait. That Wutton man and his wife just spend all their time telling ridiculous stories to one another whilst maintaining straight faces. I do not know why they would do this, he says marriage is a deception.

Another man just told me I should go out and get laid as opposed to revising. Its strange that every time he says that, he always asks me what I'm doing that night. I think I may be being subtly prepositioned. He then dropped the clanger I should just go into an exam and guess it because that is what he does. Is an ignorant barbarian trying to seduce me?

I am very tired of men.

I wish I could just catch a decent boyfriend rather than the idiots that want to get into my pants or they're attached or I wouldn't touch them with a ten foot barge pole. Or they have photographs of me asleep, stored on their phone or whatever the hell it was.

No wonder I have resolved to remain a spinster.

photographic evidence of robert being abused *again*...

meanwhile the phoney war dragged on...

The Paragon of Virtue gave me a microwave some time ago, a microwave without an instruction book. I do not know one end of a microwave from another for I like to pretend I am domestic when I amn't really, tis just an illusion. Somehow I was locked out of the house, cradling this bloody microwave and I had to sit down on the cold floor and wait until someone could let me in. This is because my keys were living in the house . So I waited a long, long time until my dear father returned home with Uncle Louis Walsh *there is news regarding him but it is reserved for another blog my fair readers* . But I sat there for several centuries, cradling the microwave in my arms, humming a lot. There is a conundrum happening because my dear father was nursing the cherished thought that one could just shove a potato in the microwave and microwave it. I thought this could create a domestic nuclear meltdown so I texted the man who is like a human egg whisk, Rob about whether you can toss a totty into an electric oven. He didn't bother to text back, not that I can't blame him.The Mexican says you can but I maintain you can't. I tried to make one of these microwave meals in the microwave but it kind of exploded. The microwave looked like it was suffering from severe diarrhea because the beef thing was smeared over its inner walls.

I tried to bake cottage pie, twice, but it was a disaster, twice. The last time I used an oven, I nearly set my home economics teacher's head on fire. The two unsuccessful attempts at baking cottage pie just saw the bloody things collapse and I poked them a lot. I am not actually sure what the finished product of a cottage pie is supposed to look like.

Last night I somehow ended up getting covered in margarine and covering the microwave in margarine. I do not know how it happened.

The kettle broke so to make tea, I had to boil water in a saucepan and pour it into the teacup. That was my dear father's suggestion, not mine.

I actually had to make toast for Anne The Man. I thought, are you insane? Every time, I kept checking the grill *if only we had a toaster* I felt like an obstetrician. It was a highly nerve wracking experience I can tell you.

For only, last week I set a tea towel on fire amidst the screams of Rachel.

Then I had a massive argument with Anne the Man who thinks she's our mum and I think she has her eye on my dear father. The three of us went into the junk shop place run by the old lady who wants me as her great niece and the old lady thought my dear father and Anne the Man were an item. My dear father denied as he should but the old lady thought he was just being coy and chivalrous. Anyways, she raised an eyebrow at the messiness of my sleeping quarters and told me to turn my music down- then it kicked off because she isn't my mother.