haloscan

As I was customising my haloscan comments the other day, I found a link where you can "manage your comments". Since haloscan is not as cool as baloo's customized commenting (where you can see every new comment, regardless of how old the post is) and archived pages don't show the comments I thought I might have missed out on a lot of comments to older entries.
And I found a few, at random. This one anonymous American has been posting on a few entries in the month of March last year. The time of the start of "Operation Iraqi Freedom" as it was then dubbed on CNN. He wasn't too happy about my comments. Unfortunately he was also too much of a coward to even so much as use a name, instead opting for the name of "none none none". Sad.

Found the posts he was referring to as I googled the words "Evil bastard Tomcat", hoping to find an earlier post of mine on the subject. You see, Dotte just caused me to go downstairs again, to close the shutters. The Evil Bastard Tomcat was on the windowsill again.

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funeral

- Wore black. Not nearly as "seriously" dressed as most of the family, but it was black and grey.
- Didn't make a cross, didn't pray along, didn't go to communion.
- Didn't cry.
- As opposed to an idiotic cousin who never ever showed an interest in my grandad while he was alive, never visited him in the revalidation home, but who cried her eyes the whole time.
- Ignored the more moronic people.
- Touched by people showing up just to show support for my parents (or me) without really knowing my grandad.
- Introduced Melissa at least twice to everyone ("ooh, I've forgotten your name again").
- People I didn't know, knew me. (oh well)
- Shocked by the amount of people who die young (as seen on gravestones and urn-stones... or whatever you call the latter)
- Hope I have a long and healthy, happy life in front of me.

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aaaaah

Spring is in the air! The sun! The birds! The flowers! The pollen!
MY EYES ITCH LIKE HELL.

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Curtain call

I don't particularly hate funerals. That's not to say I like them either. But for me they're a good way to say goodbye to someone. I can find comfort in them, sometimes, though they always give me a splitting headache.
What I detest is the whole "aftershow". Having lunch with family you've not seen in a decade and would have preferred never to see again. People telling you "how big you've become" and pretending to give a toss. People inevitably getting drunk. Boredom. Cemetaries.
Urgh.
My mother has become totally mad, fussing over what I'm going to wear, what Melissa's going to wear. "Trainers? You can't wear trainers", "has Melissa got something black", "will your midriff be showing?".... Slap her and then gag her... someone.. please. The hypocrisy of it all. Needing to look good for the "other people" present there.
I'm glad my sweetie is coming. I know it'll be even worse for her than for me, in terms of people (at least I know what to expect) and it's not as if she had to. But she did anyway. She's a babe.

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Stereo

My (Aldi)stereo started playing at midnight. I'd switched on the timer as I was trying to change the clock without the manual nearby. I still couldn't find the manual, but pushing every button on the damned thing seemed to do the trick. Blissful silence.
This morning I threw out half my wardrobe, I know the manual is in there somewhere. Found it back between two reject sweaters I'd never wear again, even if you paid me.
Clock has been changed.
Another day in the life of techno-idiot Piglet.

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tired

Piglet's biorythm is fucked.
Is it because the clocks have changed again... "oh fuck it's 11 already, no it's 9, aaargh it's 10 o'clock"?... Is it because of the incessant "what will you be wearing for the funeral/remember there's a memorial in church tomorrow"-nagging?....
Urgh.
Piglet's tired.
And no amount of Xandee on the radio seems to help with that.
So I'll just put on Barbra... "mem'ries, like the corners of my mind... "

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Nominatie

voor een nieuwe king of crap: Jurgen Verstrepen.
Dus toch bevestiging van wat we allang wisten.

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personality

I am INFP
Introverted(22%) Intuitive (56%) Feeling (22%) Perceiving (22%)
Strength of the preferences %
Ah well, at least they're not saying I desperately need help!

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colourful

The Girlfriend has bought herself bright yellow sneakers, a yellow belt, red striped socks and for me some red plastic earrings (hoops).
It feels like spring.
I feel like a teenager, braving the disapproving stares of my mother.
Who cares if I can't get a job! I've got bright red earrings!

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We found Nemo!!!


Or at least the DVD....

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granddad (part 2)

Found out (through the mourningletter) that my granddad had several military decorations. And that he was a city guide.
Forgotten all about that.
And I have a vague memory of going on his tours in the few musea that I. has with him. But I don't remember any specifics, other than that I was there and he was leading the group.
And I remember that I was once told that he was taken Prisoner of War in the second world war and could still not talk about that. Neither could my gran. They never did, it was clouded in secrecy. In fact, it seemed so secret that I started to think he might have been on the wrong side in the war... . My grandparents have always been flemish nationalists, voting VU... and you know where that sometimes led in the 40s...
But he wasn't. Apparently he was taken prisoner of war by the nazis, but that's still all I know. I feel ashamed for thinking he might have been a nazi, but that's what secrecy leads to. I think if I ever want to find out what really happened during the war with him I'll have to look it up in books, my grandmother has kept quiet all these years, I don't think she'll want to talk about it now.

Thanks for everyone's condolances.
I feel like my granddad has been dead for about 10 years now. Sure, he was still physically there, but not spiritually.
I'm more angry at the way he had to go, the inhumanity of it all. Having tubes stuck in his stomache, via his nose... and that for a man who can't remember anything for longer than 10 minutes, it must have been incredibly scary.
And I'm especially sad for my dad and my gran.

On the subject of cumulation. The doctor in charge of the whole revalidation centre my granddad stayed at, also had a private practise in the city hospital AND was in charge of a ward there. Patients in the revalidation centre saw him once every week for five minutes.
It's disgraceful.

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we're on strike!

Nope, I'm not on strike for a lack of comments I wish...
But the care sector is on strike and are protesting in Brussels. This week: the handicapped sector.
When I asked my sweetie if her internship was taking part, she said yes.
But only about two people can go to Brussels.
Otherwise the children won't even get basic care that day.
They've not even got enough staff to go on a decent strike!

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bannen

Het is tegen mijn principes. Maar ik vind dat het nu toch wel uit de hand gelopen is. Sommige mensen weten gewoon niet wanneer ze moeten stoppen en wat de begrippen "tact" en "empathie" inhouden.
Omdat ik het nu echt wel beu ben en mijn grens, die -vind ik zelf- redelijk ver ligt, nu wel degelijk overschreden is, heb ik van de mogelijkheid gebruik gemaakt om iemands IPadres via haloscan te bannen om nog comments te geven. Ook zijn emailadres is bij mij geblokkeerd, waardoor emails automatisch gedelete worden voor ze in mijn mailbox arriveren.
Als die persoon meer dan één computer heeft, hang ik er natuurlijk aan voor de moeite, maar dan hoop ik toch dat de boodschap overgekomen is.
Ik voel er me niet goed bij, maar ik ben het gewoon kotsbeu.

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and now for something completely different

The full length American trailer for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is online.
Severus speaks. *Shudder*

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it's over

My grandfather died last night, at 4.30am.
Parents have been up and about since 5am, going to see him, getting together with brothers and sisters. They told my gran at about 7am. Her health is not good enough for her to be up and about at 5am, to see a man who's not been embalmed yet.
My dad woke me up at about 8am, crying. I was totally desoriented. Told me grandad was dead and asked what Melissa's last name was, how it's spelt. Apparently she's being put on the notice.

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Operation Ore

Saw the first part of a documentary on BBC2 yesterday. The documentary was about "Operation Ore", a police operation in which over 1000 Brits who'd paid by credit card to look at an American child pornography website (Landslide) were checked out by the police.
Amongst others also The Who's Pete Townshend. He claimed to have only looked at the site for research purposes, on a book he was writing, and had not downloaded any images. A story which was supported by the evidence found.
Other men had logged on to the site for very different reasons and had over 10.000 images of child abuse on their computers. That's 10.000 abused children, where people have taken photographs of the abuse and put them on the internet to "share"!
Some were sentenced to a few years in jail (maximum three, minimum 9 months), others were given community service.

The "evidence" the police have to process to catch people who download child porn was discreetly blocked away in crucial parts, but still... anyone with half an imagination could fill in the blanks. Literally. It was unreal, that's the only way I could look at it. If you think about the fact that it is real, then... well, you just can't.
I must say I am impressed by the way the police handled things. Very few "cowboys" in the British police, they treated their suspects humane and with decency. The only time I thought they went a little overboard is when they thought a suspect had weapons in the house and therefor smashed in the windows to gain access to the building.

I've always been wary of people who fulminate against child porn and paedophilia too much. It's easily seen as suspicious. Like these policemen. I found myself thinking, as they were processing the evidence, is this an excuse for them to watch child porn themselves and meanwhile be able to say how disgusting they find it all? Like queerbashers being secretly turned on by homosexuality. Probably shows I'm too much of a psychologist, look too much into things and I owe those policemen an apology.
I found myself thinking the same thing about myself though. Should I really be watching this. Should anyone really be watching this? Why am I watching this. To find out more about what the reality is? To find out what drives these people? What the police does about it? What their reasoning is? Or is it just the same as looking when an accident has happened... disaster tourism?....

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well blah

Well this weather is crap isn't it.
Honestly! This time last week everything was sunny and hopeful and joyful and energetic. Now...it's just blah. Blah weather. And it's my mother's birthday. In accordance with the weather I'm sleeping too much and not doing enough. Trying to motivate myself to actually get some work done is beyond me, I just stare at the computer screen and find excuses to do something else. Biting my nails with a vengeance.

In other fitting news, my grandfather is dying yet again.
I swear if they don't pump the guy full of morphine he'll still be "dying" in five years time. Long after my grandmother has really died from exhaustion and old age.

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lies of mass destruction

An excerpt of an interview with Donald Rumsfeld here. Now used as an ad for the Democratic Party.

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goe bezig

Na Sint Amandus, nu ook Dr Guislain. Voor mij persoonlijk verandert er niet zoveel, gezien ik toch nooit kans maak op een job bij de Broeders van Liefde (en daar ook niet zoveel zin in heb, feitelijk), maar het is niet bepaald goed nieuws.

En dit is GEEN uitnodiging voor bernard om een debat te starten over hoe ik moet gaan netwerken om werk te vinden.

Is het wel verantwoord dat je die mensen gewoon in een ziekenhuis opneemt zonder dat er genoeg mensen voor handen zijn die kunnen zorgen voor een kwaliteitsvolle opvang? Gezien ik al gemerkt heb dat er nooit personeel teveel is in een psychiatrie, stel ik me hier toch vragen bij.
Een logisch gevolg zou zijn dat er -gezien er minder personeel zal zijn- er ook minder bedden zullen zijn. Maar dat betekent weer minder inkomsten, dus waarschijnlijk zullen ze proberen die bedden te houden, ten koste van de patiënt.
En dat terwijl er al wachtlijsten bestaan bij Diensten Geestelijke Gezondheidszorg.

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Memorable statements by George Bush
(through Titti)

"The vast majority of our imports come from outside the country."

"If we don't succeed, we run the risk of failure."

"One word sums up probably the responsibility of any Governor, and that one
word is 'to be prepared'."

"I have made good judgments in the past. I have made good judgments in the
future."

"The future will be better tomorrow."

"We're going to have the best educated American people in the world."

"I stand by all the misstatements that I've made."

"We have a firm commitment to NATO, we are a part of NATO. We have a firm
commitment to Europe. We are a part of Europe."

"Public speaking is very easy."

"A low voter turnout is an indication of fewer people going to the polls."

"We are ready for any unforeseen event that may or may not occur."

"For NASA, space is still a high priority."

"Quite frankly, teachers are the only profession that teach our children."

"It isn't pollution that's harming the environment. It's the impurities in
our air and water that are doing it."

"It's time for the human race to enter the solar system."

Who writes these man's speeches?
Is it a democrat in disguise, set upon ruining Bush' career?
And if so, why the hell isn't it working!?

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oops

I drove Melissa to the trainstation yesterday night.
I was so set on impressing her with my 180° turn as I drove off that I forgot... to turn the lights back on...
Ouch.

I remembered as I had turned.
I can drive. Honest.

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What to do...

You finally have your driving license, on a (then) Friday evening.
The girlfriend desperately wants to go to a party in Gent, but the parents won't let you have the car for that. You ask around and no one who lives close enough is able to drive you back home.
So you say... why not go to the cinema. The furthest, to show off your driving "skills" and to make it more of an outing. Just the two of us.
So you do.
And you go see "Big Fish", highly recommended by the most famous blog-couple in Flanders, or at least Izegem...
And it's brilliant. Beautiful, funny, sentimental... sad.

The Saturday you go to the cinema again, but this time with the girlfriend and your resident sexkitten Ellen. The parents look at you like you've grown an extra head when you ask if you can have the car (which they don't use on a Saturday night), so you ask Ellen to drive. You see Gothika at 8pm, because the girlfriend (still the one from the Friday) is deadly tired. So are you.
You want to kill the people who are talking as if they're at a party.
You decide never ever ever to go to an 8pm show there again.
Girlfriend is sleeping.
Piglet is waiting for a film that starts at midnight, on VPRO. Something about queers at the beginning of the (last) century.

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Mamma Medea

Ontdekt vlak vóór de match Middelkerke-Kortrijk (7-24)

Ik ben niet altijd meester van mijn woorden.
Van kindsbeen is mijn spraak gemutileerd.
Ik praat gelijk ik ben gebekt: ik bijt
En raak dat niet meer kwijt. Iets anders heb
Ik nooit geleerd. Ik bas, ik blaf. Nog meer
Ten overstaan van wie ik liefheb dan
Ten overstaan van wie mij degouteert.

Uit "dat boek van die kutschrijver" (sic)

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gouden uil

Wie dit jaar de Gouden Uil wint, maakt me niet uit. Ik heb namelijk geen enkel boek van de genomineerden gelezen. Maar daarnet hoorde ik juryvoorzitster-anna-luyten op de radio. U kent ze misschien. De bevallige deerne die telkens in een bijzonder obscure avondjurk het juryrapport komt voorlezen met de nodige pathos en de perfecte articulatie. Het rapport is doorspekt met woorden die geen zinnig mens ooit gebruikt, maar die bedoeld zijn om het een zekere literaire kracht te geven. Of misschien om het ook te kunnen publiceren en nomineren voor een Gouden Uil. De "Uil voor het beste Juryrapport".
Van vorig jaar herinner ik me een onvergetelijke zin, die erop neer kwam dat Lanoye "het deken wegschopt, waaronder de naakte mens ligt ... te rillen". Op dat moment keek juryvoorzitster-anna-luyten de zaal in met een air van belangrijkheid. Of wat dacht u van deze zin: "Paravion is een hedendaagse fabel over een heet politiek hangijzer, door Bouazza stijlvol gesluierd in barokke taalpracht". "Stijlvol gesluierd"...
Zaterdag en zondag moet u een deel van haar "verdict" horen op het nieuws. Misschien kunt u alvast de klank afzetten.

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Ingelmunster

With my driving license nearly in my pocket, I felt safe enough to finally dare to go to the edges of civilisation. I paid Ellen a surprise visit in the lovely *cough* place that is Ingelmunster.
Of course, I caught her as she was in the middle of ritually burning a voodoo doll that looked a lot like me (long hair, gorgeous, bitten nails) and she looked a bit startled that I was there. She covered up her mistake by mumbling something about a "school project", which is strange, cos she's not in school anymore.
But at least her mum was glad to see me.

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nails

Piglet's mother's friend (who's a beautician) wants to give Piglet fake nails tomorrow afternoon.
As you may know, Piglet is a big fan of nailbiting. Such a big fan even that people might wonder if Piglet even has nails. She remembers she bit her nails back in primary school (upon a nail inspection, she was embarrassed to show her nails because she'd bitten them a bit short) and hasn't ever stopped.
Piglet doesn't know what to do.
On one hand (no pun intended), her hands right now aren't very... sexy. And she would like to quit nailbiting. If something plastic is stuck on her nails, there's no way she can bite it. Or she could bite the plastic. And they can put really short fake nails on. So that no lesbian porn-stereotype is made of her. On the other hand (still no pun intended), she might look like a total slapper. Fitting with the Embarrassing Coloured Car.
Oooh dilemmas, dilemmas.

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attention attention!

From now on Piglet is no longer recognisable by a blue L.
All people on the road, cyclists, pedestrians and fellow drivers, better watch out for a hot, sexy lady in a golden (*sigh*) Citroën Xsara.
For your own safety.
We thank you.

I don't know what did it. My "driving compilation" I made yesterday? Filled with a good few uptempo Eurovision hits, angry songs (a L*mp B*zk*t song, but don't tell anyone) and high energy-I can do anything I want to-songs. Or the promise of a pink feather pen?... I don't know... :) But I'm glad it worked, whatever it was.

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There once was a nice bloke from Belfast
He was sad, his erections never seemed to last
he was a fit lad
for that he was glad
even though his penis was only half-mast.

happy Sint Patrick's day for all those who are that way inclined (i.e. Irish)

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dreams

I dreamt I was driving on one of these toy thingies last night.
I remember my little cousin used to play with these things over at my aunt's when we were little. Me being 4 years older than him, 6 years older than his little hyperactive brother, I had to watch them and "play along". Damn, that was boring.
Especially when the youngest started throwing the cars at our heads.
Or the time when I was babysitting and Alexander didn't want to go to bed, ran like a madman to escape me and sent a vase flying on the floor before he cuddled in my lap.
And then job interviewers dare to question my experience with kids with behavioural problems.

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flikker van in de wieg

Homoseksualiteit is aangeboren, dat zegt toch een Vlaams homo-onderzoeker in de States, die vroeger nog woordvoerder van WJNH geweest is. Tja, natuurlijk zegt die dat.
Een deel van de hypothalamus is bij homo-mannen kleiner dan bij heteromannen, en benadert eerder de grootte van dat van vrouwen. Bij lesbiennes is er, zoals gewoonlijk, geen onderzoek gedaan. Vrouwelijke seksualiteit bestaat immers nog altijd niet in de ogen van de wetenschap.

Grappig vond ik wel dat blijkbaar 8% van de rammen (de schaapbeesten dus) homoseksueel is. Leuk als je es naar de kinderboerderij gaat.

Wat niet in het artikel staat, en waar ik wel nieuwsgierig naar ben, is hoe men dan verklaart dat niet alle een-eiige tweelingbroers ook allebei homo of allebei hetero zijn...

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spring

Aaaah the first hints of spring are among us.
Putting on my adidas trainers instead of my leather boots.
Putting my Irish scarf in my bag, because it's too hot around my neck.
Taking off my sweater and just walking around in a (long-sleeved) shirt indoors.
Seeing the sun.
It's pure bliss.

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juicht

De dames van Apolloon Kortrijk hebben aartsvijand DHT Middelkerke-Izegem verslagen met een redelijk genante 21-15.

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Horny cats

It seems the cats in our street are horny again.
My neighbour, who's a bit crazy, has a house full of cats, a dog and god knows what else in his garden. One stray tomcat also found his way to our neighbour's cellar (where the cats get fed) and you can imagine the results...
As I came home yesterday I caught the EvilBastardTomcat (TM) trying to crawl on top of a female. I call him the EvilBastardTomcat because Dotte hates him by the way.
And what about Dotte? Is she crying with the rest of them? Rubbing herself against every surface she can find?
No. Not now anyway.
You see, she wouldn't be my cat if she waren't a bit... unique. So she prefers to get horny when no other cat is. And believe me, when she gets horny, you'll know! She all but assaults you. In the photo you can see her trying to cool her er, overheated parts, in the sink. This January. When no other cat was going for it.

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mamma medea

Awel ik heb dat boek van die kutschrijver idd weggedaan....
is wel een week of twee... zie je wel dat je je
zonder kan :)

Piglet zoekt Mamma Medea. Nu ze Making History van Stephen Fry uitgelezen heeft, dacht ze aan Lanoye te beginnen.
Maar dat was buiten Merlina's Lanoye haat gerekend. Piglet ontdekte vanavond dat het boek verdwenen is.
Verdwenen in de handen van Merlina.

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what is the best way...

to take your driving test (2)?

16. The Moustache. You're shaking with nerves as you arrive in the exam centre. You park the beautiful golden Johnny-car neatly and realise that everyone who sees the car will think that an 18-year-old speed devil is taking his exam. You take your seat in the exam car and ask your instructor if the examiner is an ok bloke. "He's not a nice person", he replies. Gulp. "But then again, none of them are nice". It's the Moustache, you remember your mate Ellen telling you about him, but you don't remember if it was good or bad. You think the latter.
The Moustache asks you to switch on the indicators, the lights, the horn, the windscreen wipers. The windscreen... fuck, where are they. You say "well, this is not my car you know sir" as you fumble about and realise that might have come across as a bit bitchy. Well, so be it. You can tell by his moustache that he's a bastard anyway. Eventually you find the method to keep the windscreen wipers on permanently (it's not raining, by the way) and The Moustache grumbles "finally". You switch them off again and try to convert your automatic killer glare to a subdued apologetic glance.
You fuck up your exercises again, out of nerves. Reversing is a disaster, you have to drive forward twice and even then you only pass the last right pole with 1 millimetre distance. But hey! You didn't hit it! You do hit a pole during the turning in a small street. Again. Turns out the pole you saw in your mirror was not the first, but the second in line. Ah well, you sort it out correctly. One pole is not a fail. You think "not another time" when reversing out of the "garage" and go right out, stop and then turn the car. The Moustache is not pleased with your method. Screw you Moustache! It's not against the rules! Parking is no problem.
The Moustache grumbles "well... you've passed I suppose, only just" and you try the "I'm sorry I'm such a stupid woman" glance instead of the look of triumph that comes to you. Unfortunately this rather bad performance doesn't do much to alleviate your nerves for the "road" part of your exam. The car engine growls and growls on the hillstart, but at least you don't slide backwards. AND you put the car in first gear. Go Pigi! The roads themselves are a bit blah... you're nervous, your balance between clutch and gas isn't perfect and you fuck up twice. Once on a big road when The Moustache suddenly tells you to "turn left". You're startled and turn the wheel. Without looking. And it turns out the street you're meant to go into is a couple of metres away still. Oops.
You also mess up one obscure right of way. You have to turn left on a crossroads, but block the street for the bloke coming from the right. Didn't see it.
So. I didn't pass. But I didn't throw up either. Unfortunately... The Moustache might deserve it. And I didn't fuck up too badly on the road. He didn't say much else than what he failed me on. So... it should be ok next time.
IF I'm a bit calmer
IF I get to deal with someone without a moustache.
IF I don't run someone over
IF ... ah fuck it. I'll get it eventually. Even if it kills me.

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what is the best way...

...to take your driving test?

1. You just go for it, hitting a pole more or less won't harm your chances either way
2.You burst into tears, shut down the engine, start about your underpriviliged life and wait until the person taking the exam feels sorry for you and lets you try as many times as you want to.
3. You overdose on valium and think "hey, this is not so bad after all" when you've only just missed five pedestrians and two cyclists without noticing.
4. You go for it, drive 55 in the city centre, 99 on the bigger roads and show the exam people how much guts you have.
5. You talk out loud to yourself during the test. "I'm putting on my indicators now, look in the mirror, look over my shoulder, let go of the clutch and I take my turn". "Oh, I'll just slow down here in case a pedestrian comes out of nowhere and wants to cross the road". "oops, sorry, I didn't mean to put it in 4th, little mistake".
6. You take a tiny bit of valium and think "hm, this is actually still pretty bad" when you forget how to perform a hill-start
7. You fuck up your first exercise (driving backwards, still can't do it) and then say, fuck you, have my 129 Euro! 's Not like I could use it for anything better anyway.
8. You throw up on the examperson's shoes. Then apologise. And throw up again.
9. You invent a mantra to get you through everything. "pink feather pen", "pink feather pen", "pink feather pen". "What was that sir? How many poles?"
10. You prepare to be ridiculed by everyone you know if you fail your exercises again and don't make it on the road. Yet again. Or if you do make it to the roads, but blunder there. You prepare to be killed by your mother who tells you how much money it costs. Then you take a job in a factory that de-bones chickens to pay for your next try.

All of the options are possible... which one should I go for?

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the mother

has decreed some new laws in another attack of aggresive assertiveness.
- Towels are prohibited to stay in the bathroom after having been used in showers and hairdrying ability. They smell apparently. (does shampoo and showergel smell?)
- I don't clean the bathroom well enough during my weekly rounds. From now on I'm asked to use a mop. "She's an invalid you know". And I'm a houseslave.
- On watching 'driving school' (autorijschool): look, he did pass his exercises, he can go on the road. My second exam by the way, is on Thursday, and she doesn't know it yet. No one does, apart from Melissa. And now everyone. Obviously. I'm already shitting myself.
- She's going to the doctor's tomorrow, to pour out her heart. My suggestion that she leaves the doctor alone and sees a shrink was met with "I'm not going to leave the doctor alone!" (literally)

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piglet leeft

Ik wil niet werken in een CLB.
Bah!
Gaan "solliciteren" (tja, jammer dat u nog geen ervaring hebt) vanavond in een CLB. De geur van ontsmettingsmiddel. De bruine panelen aan de muur. Ze zijn blijkbaar universeel.

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banking questions

Gezien de stomme axionwebsite platligt. of toch hun "stuur eens een mailtje met vragen over bancaire zaken" optie. En er hier toch intelligente mensen rondhossen, dacht ik het hier es te vragen.
Iemand enig idee waar de Engelse termen "sort code" en "swift code" voor staan?
Ik zou ze moeten invullen om een betaling gestort te krijgen.

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fuck fashion again

Esteemed model Merlina proves that you can suffer under the Taliban, but can still be stylish.

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No More Mad Cow Disease!

Who remembers this idiot?
Come on... think back a few years... 5 or more. He had by far the most annoying song ever... "Mysterious Girl". His videos were just snapshots of his abdominal muscles ("ooh er I've got a sixpack, worship me") and his pathetic hairdo (what was that all about?!). I hated him from the moment I set eyes on him.
Yes, I'm talking Peter Andre here.
Instead of keeping him in this lovely place called "no one gives a shit-land", the British have fished him up again and given him a new shot at fame in the reality TV Show "I'm a celebrity, get me out of here". Concept of the show? Take a couple of nearly-forgotten celebrities, put them in the Australian jungle and see who kills whom first. That's the idea. Presented by my darlings Ant and Dec, it's a ratings hit.
Now this bloody idiot Peter Andre apparently got some attention in the show. So much attention that the record company decided to put his annoying song out again. It got to number one in the British charts.
That's right, number one.
Now, you can't say the british always have taste, let's not forget Westlife is still huge overthere. But I've just heard this eardrum-destroying "song" on the radio overhere. In Belgium.
Record company, we don't care about Mister Abs. We don't! We don't get ITV here and we didn't see him have sex with some big busted tart. Get rid of it! Back when the Brits had Mad Cow Disease we didn't ask for it to be brought over to the continent either, so why is this any different?

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Advies voor dimi

"the fact is" said Rabbit, "you're stuck".
"It all comes" said Pooh crossly "of not having front doors big enough"
"It all comes" said Rabbit sternly "of eating too much"
"How long does getting thin take?" asked Pooh anxiously.
"About a week I should think"
"But I can't stay here for a week!"
"You can stay here all right, silly old Bear. It's getting out which is so difficult."

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Topless man

#He had it coming
he had it coming
He only had himself to blaaaaame
If you'd have been there
and you'd have seen it
I bet you you would have done the saaaaame#
(chicago soundtrack - cell block tango)

In a fit of revenge and also a blatant attempt to get my viewing rates a bit higher (for where else must I get my self esteem from these days?), I present you with some gratuitous porn. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you've been waiting to download this to your hard drive ever since you discovered him.
Piglet is proud to present: Topless Hullabaloo!

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chocolatey principles

I can be a right complicated thing. I have these principles you see. Also principles regarding old pagan traditions that were hijacked by the christians. One of those is Easter.
The feast of fertility, of spring, of new life. Made up to be about the death and resurrection of a jewish boy some 2000 years ago.
But since the eggs are a symbol for spring, I feel it's ridiculous and stupid to eat them now. It's not easter yet. It's not even spring yet, not by far. Chocolate eggs are for AFTER Easter. Or at least, at the very very least, for after the 21st of March.
But I crave them...
I crave them so much.
I remember when I was first in the UK how every brand of chocolate had their own "easter basket" full of Mars eggs and Snickers eggs and whatever-you-want eggs and Pooh eggs, pokemon eggs, you name it, they had it. A trend I see coming overhere slowly.
Merlina and I were out shopping today (found lesbo film (not porn) for 7 euro) and there was chocolate everywhere. And I'm so in the mood for a cheap, bad tasting, thin chocolatey egg shaped thing.
*sighs*
Damn.
Only 6 weeks left to wait...

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only happens to other people

My friend Eve's boyfriend was involved in an accident a few days ago.
He was driving back from work, in a transit van with his colleagues, he was at the wheel on a main street. And suddenly this other car (with older man driving) ignores his right of way, doesn't stop, but crosses the street. Right in front of the van. Gregory braked, but it was too late, he hit the car and the old man is dead. The people in the van are ok, apart from some minor injuries. But psychologically... that's a whole different story.
There's nothing he could have done. The accident is not his fault. The old man should have stopped. But he's still dead. He's dead because at that precise moment that he was distracted and ignored a stop sign, there was van at the same place.
I cannot imagine how he must be feeling.

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persmededeling: decreet rond rechten van werkzoekenden

Het decreet betekent dat de rechten van werkzoekenden wettelijk afdwingbaar worden. (...)
De werkzoekende krijgt recht op bescherming van persoonlijke gegevens, en blijft 'baas' over haar of zijn eigen dossier. Bovendien moeten trajectbegeleiding, beroepsopleiding en arbeidsbemiddeling gratis zijn, als die door de overheid worden verstrekt. De Vlaamse overheid moet garanderen dat elke niet-werkende of verplicht ingeschreven werkzoekende een passende trajectbegeleiding krijgt, en waar nodig opleiding en werkervaring. De werkzoekende heeft recht op gratis informatie over de diensten die beschikbaar zijn.

Dienstverlening aan werkzoekenden moet kwalitatief, laagdrempelig en klantvriendelijk zijn. Een werkzoekende heeft recht op erkenning van de kennis en ervaring die zij of hij heeft opgedaan. Activiteiten die moeten leiden tot het vinden van een job, moeten de veiligheid, gezondheid en het welzijn van een werkzoekende bevorderen. (...)

'Dit is een positief signaal aan alle mensen, die in moeilijke economische omstandigheden proberen aan een job te geraken, en met de vinger worden gewezen als zij die niet snel vinden' zegt (Groen! volksvertegenwoordiger) Veerle Declercq .

Uhu.
En wat houdt dit nu concreet in?
Niks.
Ze hebben gewoon wat vanzelfsprekendheden in een wetje gepropt, dat niet uitvoerbaar is. Zorg er maar es voor dat elke werkzoekende een gepaste begeleiding krijgt en hoe vertaal je het "geven van erkenning voor kennis" concreet?
Mijn rechten worden gevrijwaard.
Hoera dan maar.

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oh dear

My dad wants to come with me to the practise terrain tonight or tomorrow night to see if I need any pointers for my parking or "turning in narrow streets".
How many pointers can one give?
I'm dreading it.
He seems really enthusiastic, but I'm sure we'll end up in a huge argument. I have visions of him freaking out the minute I go near a pole (which is pretty hard to avoid when you have to "park" between a row of poles) and if he knew the stunts I sometimes pull when I'm there...like how I got stuck on a block of concrete yesterday with the precioussss new golden vehicle... it's only the question if he'll ever let me near a car again.
If I don't blog again after tonight, you know it's because one of us killed the other out there.
Watch the news for details.

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new cars

Just drove in the parents' new car, to the practise terrain.
- Engine shut down twice, on a hill. Ahem. Not nice. The person behind me agreed.
- It's got power steering, so the minute you move your steering wheel a tiny bit, your car moves with you. Very distressing when you find you're suddenly on the bicycle lane (without bicycles)
- Of course my "turning in a narrow street" still doesn't go too well. The first time I hit a pole, I got out of the car, to check for scratches. The parents would kill me. There were none. thank god.
- Got stuck on a block of concrete (still on practise terrain) because I was turning too enthusiastically (don't ask). Visions of tow-trucks and livid parents in my head... eventually a guy helped me out by telling me to just turn to the right and I could get off.
- This car is broader than the old one. I also couldn't find the heating. *brr*
- Drove so easily that I forgot to use my clutch once, resulting in an embarrassing shut down in the middle of the street. Ouch.

aaargh. I hate driving in different cars!

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"it's not bad. it's not as orange as I thought it would be"
"It's not orange! It's gold"
"well yeah, it's more a yellow isn't it"
"it's not yellow, it's gold.."
"fine, fine it's gold."

The new car is here.
it's yellow/orange.
My dad is like a kid with a new toy.

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victimhood

I don't have to win
You don't have to lose
we can choose
happiness is an option.

While thinking about Bruno's rant about "victims" on Baloo's blog, this lyric came to mind. Indeed, you choose to be a "victim" or not.
When you're abused, or bad stuff happens to you in whatever shape or form, there is indeed nothing you can do about that. You're not to blame, it just happens. What you do afterwards is where you're in charge again. By applying the label "victim" to yourself you take a passive stance, you give up all control over your own fate, after all you are and always will be a victim. Suffering. It's an easy way out, because it means that "there's nothing you can do to change your situation", it's also damning because it means that you will forever be stuck in whatever dead end situation you're in.
If however you refuse to be a victim, but rather a someone who's had bad stuff happening to them, then you are in control. You choose to take control over your life. Sometimes you'll feel bad, sometimes you won't want to get out of bed, but you'll realise that this is because of your own reaction to what's happened. Not because you're destined to feel like that because of what's happened.

For those interested to read up on the subject, and not scared off by some feminist theory, Judith Lewis Herman's Trauma and Recovery (Trauma en Herstel) is a recommendation.

I do apologise for this short burst of Lowagie-ness.
Business will resume as usual after this.
Expect many bitchings about hair, cars, not finding a job (but I am not a victim!), my cat and my sweetie again.

lyrics by Pet Shop Boys, of course

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piglet's quest for her tuning car dream

this is the new (second-hand) car my parents have bought just a few minutes ago.
Yes, that also is the right colour.
Please excuse me while I vomit. Imagine my blue L in that... No one can say I won't be noticed.
The old one? Selling it to the garage.

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new addiction

Next to bread and cheese, red bull and chocolate, a possible new addiction is making itself known. It started with Mr Vandamme's post about Knorr-testing last week. My interest was peaked. When Merlina and I were in the BigHappySupermarket (Co P Mennes) last week, I bought myself some instant powdery vegetable soup.
Never ate the stuff before, only fresh.
It's not bad.
As a matter of fact, I've developped a craving for it. I've got one packet left... and I think I'm buying some more this afternoon. Long live instant crap!

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fuck fashion? fuck parents!

Exhibit A: the car of my parents.
Well not this one, obviously, but that's the model. White (yuck), too big for my liking, old fashioned and not terribly handy.
But it works.
Which is basically what a car is meant to do, isn't it.

Apparently the parents have been saving up for a new car. This one is 14 years old and doesn't have power steering. Since the mother hardly has any power in her left arm (due to an accident years ago), her driving has been abysmal (partly due to that) and power steering is no luxury for them. Besides, it's their money and they're bloody right to buy a new car when they want one and can afford one.

Piglet thought that she might be able to buy the old car off them. You know, for not too much money, but an adequate amount nonetheless.
Apparently that plan has just been scrapped. The garage is willing to give them 1000 Euro for it when they buy a new car.
Hey, Piglet 's willing to pay that amount as well, but not straightaway, first I've got to earn some money, I don't have it right now.
But no.
Parents are quick to add that the garage said the car was "using oil" (what the hell does that mean?) so it wouldn't get through the car inspection anymore. When I see what kind of cars some of my friends drive that DO get through the inspection... I find that hard to believe...
Most of the jobs I apply for say that you require a car, so does the one I'm interviewing for tomorrow. Can't get a car if I don't have a job. Will have some money with the translating thing but will it be enough for a decent (!) one?... don't think so.

Dad still seems to think my finding a job is only a matter of weeks, whilst for me it's something that's so far off... to be honest, I've no hope at all anymore really. I'll probably end up doing something totally different, nothing to do with psychology, that I didn't need to go to university for.
But even that is something I only see happening in months' time

Anyway.
I'm pissed off.
If I knew a friend of mine was looking for a car and would offer me the same amount of money as the garage would (or even slightly less) I'd sell it to him or her. And I'm not a friend, but their daughter for fuck's sake.
Never mind, never mind.
I'll carjack myself a Lupo in Temse.

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Back's been hurting since I finished vacuuming under the bed. I might have been a bit more enthusiastic than usual in my search for tigger. It's four hours later now and it's only gotten worse.
Fucking hell.

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MISSING

We would like to ask your attention for the following missing person's report:
Missing: TIGGER
Height: about 30cms
colours: orange and black stripes, yellow tummy
Distinguishing features: Lopsided tail, injury sustained from too much cuddling, has tendency to bounce and lisp
Last seen at Sunday noon in the home of Ms Piglet Wildebeest.
Reported missing at 2am on Monday morning. A thorough search and vacuuming of the grounds has resulted in the certainty that Tigger is no longer on the premises.

This disappearance is considered serious since a certain M.lissa was last seen with Tigger, and has since not disclosed any information about their whereabouts.
If you have seen this woman, or this Tigger, please contact your local authorities, or Ms Wildebeest, straightaway.
I miss you Tigger...

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