Monday Monday


evil 

I might not have to endure the monday-morning-go-to-work hell (for which I am eternally grateful! Let that be made clear) but my Mondays aren't all they're cracked up to be.
This morning for instance I woke up to the sound of our neighbour drilling countless holes in the walls right next to those of our bedroom (The Girlfriend meanwhile, happily snoozed on). Since we were planning on doing some boring tasks this morning, the alarm was set at an inhumane 9.45. We didn't quite make it up, the girlfriend isn't feeling too well. So I pulled myself together, got to the bathroom, cleaned and came downstairs with fresh courage. Only to find our cats had been true devils last night.

Somehow they've managed to open the bin.
The Garbage Bin.
In which all of our garbage sits.
Can you imagine the scenery (and the smell)?
They've also molested the paper towels, throwing them all over the kitchen, torn up and bitten to shreds.

We feed the monsters, it can't be that.
They've got toys, loads of them. So why do they find so much more fun in playing with garbage, paper towels, sweets wrappers and biros?

I just heard a crash from the kitchen.
I'm going to get me a cat-fur coat!

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How could she do this to us

I fear our Zena might be a dog.

She sometimes makes a barking-type sound.
And worst of all, when you say "Zena, come", she looks insanely happy and runs towards you to sit on your lap.

A cat? Doing what you ask?
It's most unbecoming!

(in Harry Potter terms, I fear she'd be... a Hufflepuff!)

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Finally, some culture!

"Clap your hands and stomp your feet
Mister Batty man"

All this to say I've dug out Army of Lover's "Glory Glamour & Gold", to enjoy while the girlfriend is at work.

Unfortunately Soes isn't a fan of this either.
I fear she might have already become an Evanescence fan...

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Workstories

Remember the magic-is-evil family?
Remember that father who didn't want his son (3 years old) to have a pink pom-pom on his hat, for fear of enducing homosexual urges?
I thought he might have been joking then, at least partly.

Only today he told me how he didn't want that same kid to watch K3-DVDs anymore.
"Sick to death of the songs eh", I said, because I'm empathic like that, even though in my heart I know K3 songs should never be mocked! (there's photographic evidence of me as Kristel (the prettiest black haired one), after all).
"No no, all that girls stuff. I wouldn't want him to become ... you know, because of some faults in his upbringing".
Rrrrrrrrright.
"Well I hardly think K3 will turn him queer", I said lamely. "Well, you never know", he said. "Most likely your macho patriarchic narrowminded ideas about religion and masculinity will do him more harm but whether that will mean he'll turn out to be a rapist or a poof I really cannot tell at this point".

Fine. I didn't say that last bit.

But sometimes I wish I could just go "and what the hell is wrong with being a bender!", and ask why he fears homosexuality so much, does he perhaps sometimes find himself staring at other men's penises? Does he sometimes dream of big muscular men? Is he afraid that one day, a man will come up to him, say "nice arse" and he'll find he might actually want to go with that guy and commit all kinds of sinful acts, having the time of his life? And at the end I'd add "Oh, and I'm a dyke. My girlfriend says I'm great in the sack (well, actually she never actually told me that, but I can always bend the truth a little can't I). Remember when your 8-year-old daughter crawled on my lap thus showing her ambivalent attachment? I guess that means she is one too now!"

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The Girlfriend

I love her dearly, I do. I couldn't do without her. But last week she bought an Evanescence DVD at Colruyt.
For fuck's sake.
If I wanted to slit my wrists I'd have done it at 16! Why tempt me now!?
Hey, I don't mind the odd song, I enjoy being a tad depressed and aggressive every month now and again. But not every bloody day.
I long for Kylie or Pet Shop Boys, or ... Army of Lovers... oh the bliss that would be Army of Lovers.
Anything to get out of this bombastic church I used to call my home.

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Dear Mars Delight people,

please stop showing your ad every five minutes. The girlfriend all but chucks me out of the sofa and forces me to get her one.

Dear cats,

you seem to have killed Merlina's favourite lamp.
I fear you're about to die.
It was nice knowing you.

Sincerely,
Piglet

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Roxette

The cats don't like Roxette.
As it was playing just now, someone (I suspect Soes) pulled the plug of the stereo.
When I tried to put the radio back on I see it's on "530 MW".
Crap.
It's Merlina's and all. I haven't a clue how it works.

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Ladies and gentlemen

Frederic just came by and brought his new favourite film Dodgeball (he's rather an intelligent lad apart from that small flaw)...immediately the girlfriend discovered handball moves, frederic discovered trendy S&M styles and I discovered what it feels like to be hit on the nose by a cat's mousse ball.
Great.
So who's up for it?
Making a Dodgeball team.

What can be expected? bruises, ego-bashing, venting aggression, matching outfits and a lot of fun. Dykes vs Poofs, Queers vs Straights, Mullets vs Other haircuts, Blogspot vs Skynet vs "own domain names" (pfff arrogant bastards), slash vs het, cat lovers vs bastards, the possibilities are enormous!
80s haircuts optional.
Rules? Two teams of six people. Six balls. The principle is pretty much that of "tussen twee vuren", a game I used to play in primary school and I remember once being the winner of. Ok, it was just once, but it gave me the illusion there was a "sport" I was actually good at. You try and hit the other team by chucking balls at them. Once they're hit, they're out. If they can catch your ball, you're out and a team mate of theirs is back in the game. The strategy? Dodge the balls and stay in the game as long as you can. The team that eliminates all the other team's players is the winner.

Things like this make me wish I was still in Dubbelpunt. At last I could invent an activity.
Or maybe this is something to propose for the next "Do-Day" at work... muhahah.

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Concurrentie

voor Dimi... het prachtige nektapijt van Bucky Laplasse!

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If you can't steal your dvds you might as well buy em

Het Verschil is a gay and lesbian bookstore in Antwerp. They've recently added an ordering option to their site, (one you don't need a credit card for!) which is fabulous.
It means we don't have to drive all the way to Antwerp and get lost there, nor do we need to pay more for the DVDs and books we want in Fnac (if they even have them), but we can drool on the our PC Keyboard and order to our heart's content.

Well. If our bank statements allow it.
It got me the Definitive Collector's Edition of QAF UK for only 49.95 Euro and the Girlfriend Bad Girls 4 for that same price (or 95 cents cheaper).

We ordered on Monday and yesterday we got the things that were in stock, the others arrive next week.
Consider this a serious recommendation!

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Jerry! I got three jobs!

I'm currently babysitPiglet, half of the famous duo BabysitPiglet and BabysitMerlina. For the third time this week my Sweetie and I will be babysitting the gorgeous Coline. Unfortunately the girlfriend has to work till 6 tonight, meaning she might be there a tad later than Coline arrives.

This might cause problems.
- I have no idea how any Coline's parent's microwave works. This might cause Coline to become angry and frustrated at not being served her favourite foods as soon as she gets there.
- Coline has a stomache bug. What if she arrives with a dirty nappy? I made an ass of myself last time, and then I was only trying to put on a new, clean one.

So I ordered my dad to pick Merlina up from work, break all the speedlimits and bring her back before the little tyke arrives.

Coupling babysit duties with work, PMT, trying to install a router on Merlina's laptop (which doesn't want to connect to the net)and the last bout of translating leaves me exhausted, pissed off and short-tempered though.
It's not all good.

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They will stoop to anything!

I had to endure Celine Dion -on CD- during a visit for work.

Honestly are we family counselors meant to endure everything!? Shout at us, call us names, set your dogs loose on us, I don't care, but NOT Celine bloody Dion!! I didn't deserve that!

I think I'll have to take sick leave to recover!

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Dear Ward Beysen,

I know it's not very nice of me to make comments like these when you've not been dead for a long time, but I can't help but wonder. Besides, we never got along, you and I. Politically I always thought you were an extreme right idiot. I'd have rather slit my wrists than vote for you, and I felt your opinions were rather sickening.
But that aside, I can't help but ask you a question. And I hope you won't take offense.

Why did you take off your coat and mobile phone before you drowned yourself in that river?
Was it a sense of habit: "we mustn't let the coat get wet and make sure the mobile still works", or was it on purpose so people would know where to look for you?

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I didn't do it!

A while back I posted a contact ad for my friend and evil Uberlord Ellen. She was looking for a man and I, being the good friend that I am, decided to give her a helping hand and some webspace.
Though Dimi seemed interested at the time, very little other people commented on it.
Until a while ago that is.
Ellen informed me that she's been accosted on MSN by a guy named Mike. Mike even provided her with some photos.

Of his penis.

My blog attracts the sanest people, doesn't it.

So, dear Mike, please don't send Ellen photos of your penis.
A girl does not find these things as flattering as you might think.

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Tell me whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

*glass shatters*

- Nuon's phonelines have been busy non-stop for the last half an hour?
- One of the cats keeps jumping on the table?
- the other has chosen the black armchairs as her favourite reclining spot (knowing the things attract cathairs like cars attract birdshit), resulting in a hairy armchair?
- my neck, back and shoulders are killing me?
- I have to break Huug's heart by saying I think Tomas Siffer (as I saw him on Jambers - de Reporters (shut up! I couldn't sleep and I was bored & alone) seemed like a bigheaded jerk to me?
- That reporter that interviewed him hopefully asked a Thai woman "you have no home anymore?". Clearly wishing he'd met someone who had really lost everything. (sadly for him, she still had a home)?
- the translation work I did yesterday on The Girlfriend's laptop and saved on a CD-RW has disappeared into "0 bytes"?

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Oh boy

Just imagine. You pay 250 Euro for a song to be played on the radio (for Asia), and then Leen Demaré sings through it!
Or they play a different song than the one you asked for!

Come on Radio Donna, these people are paying a bloody fortune, don't mess it up. I don't mind hearing songs three times in a row (apart from Clouseau then), that's the normal way things are at Radio Donna anyway.

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I'm being clubbed to death with sticks!

Fine, Bart Vandamme, Dimi, en Luc. Ik heb het door. Ik moet dit invullen, goed dan. Maar laat me tenminste eerst mijn croissantje opeten!
Dank u.

1.Wat is de totale grootte aan muziekbestanden op je computer?

Sinds mijn PC de laatste keer crashte en mijn massa MP3s met zich mee de dood injoeg, heb ik me ingehouden wat het verzamelen van MP3s betreft. Zo'n 500 MB denk ik.


2. Wat is je laatst gekochte cd?
Ik denk dat dat al Eurosong 2004 moet geweest zijn, vorig jaar dus. Dat of PopArt (PSB). Maar voor mijn verjaardag kreeg ik van de onvervangbare Warskinny een Eurosong verzamelCD-box. (80 Original Eurovision Hits)

3. Wat is letterlijk het laatst geluisterde nr voor je dit bericht las?

Ik luister naar de radio en het is... iets tragisch dat ik niet herken. Ik zit echter wel met Lose my Breath van Destiny's Child in mijn hoofd gebeiteld.

4. Geef 4 nrs door die je heel vaak luistert of die veel voor je
betekenen.

Hmz... dat is veel te weinig eigenlijk.

- Windmills of your mind van Dusty Springfield. Omdat het me herinnert aan die melancholische avonden op mijn kot in Gent. Zonder TV, internet en weet ik wat, terwijl ik met een boekje in mijn veredelde sofa/stoel naar muziek zat te luisteren. In dat licht kan ik ook "Tender" van Blur vernoemen. Gegarandeerde depressie-opwekkers. (ja, ook Tender)

- Pet Shop Boys - It's a sin. Beetje (ok, erg) over the top, maar ik vind het zalig. And aren't we all sinners? Of Love is a Catastrophe. Ook nogal over the top, maar gaat recht door mijn kleinzerig hartje.

- Alcazar - Crying at the discoteque. Hilarische kitsch en camp. Mijn favoriete flikkerfuif-plaat waarop ik steevast uit mijn dak ga, met gechoreografeerde danspasjes. Zie in dit licht ook "Can't get you out of my head" (Kylie) en menig alle Eurosonghits behalve "Fly on the wings of love" (bleurgh). Of anders mijn volledige Eurosongcassette. Omdat deze in de auto zit en dus geregeld opligt. Hierop onder andere: Minn Hinsti Dans (Pall Oskar), Fangad av en stormvind (Carola), Baby Baby (Nicole en Hugo)

- George Michael - Jesus to a child. Ik haatte dit liedje nog voor ik het gehoord had, gewoon omwille van de titel. Pathos, iemand? Maar toen hoorde ik het en ik was helemaal verkocht.

En zo zijn het er veel meer dan 4 geworden. Muha!

5. Aan welke 3 (4 of 5 is te zot) personen geef jij het stokje door en
waarom?

- Wout, omdat mijn lief nogal gek is op de polsen-oversnij-muziek die af en toe op zijn site staat, en ik wel es wil horen wat hij nog allemaal in zijn kast liggen heeft.
- Kip. Over het hoofd gezien door haar eigen Bavada, wil ik haar duidelijk maken dat IK haar niet vergeet :-)
- Occie17th, omdat het tijd wordt dat hij een handigere nick vindt dan "occie 17th" en omdat de wereld ook wel es mag kennismaken met zijn blog.

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Kaddisj voor de boerka (Tom Lanoye, in Humo)

(...) Het lijden van de vrouw in de moslimfundamentalistische samenleving is groot. Ik weet alleen niet of het per se groter is dan de terminale eetstoornissen, de ontploffende borstvergrotingen, de averechtse liposucties en de fout gelopen jukbeencorrecties die bon ton zijn bij de westerse vrouw. Akoord, die bezit op zijn minst de illusie -en de mannen om haar heen nog meer dan zij- dat zij de vrijheid heeft om ònze cultuurkwalen te ondergaan of niet. En vrijheid is heel wat als je nog maar vijfendertig kilo weegt, of als de siliconen van je tieten naar je tenen zijn gelekt. Terwijl je dagelijks, op straffe van spot of verwaarlozing, nog steeds de helft van je budget kunt spenderen aan lippenstift, oogschaduw, stormbestendige kapsels, wonderbra's, stilettohakken en de nieuwste snit qua rok en top -allemaal in de hoop je plaats te handhaven in de kutorde, ergens tussen Barbie en Nicole Kidman in. De westerse vrouw en haar uiterlijk? Het is maar wat je een onderdrukkende huls wilt noemen.
Maar troost je, Mia en Marina: op zijn minst heb jij mogen leren lezen en schrijven, en mag jij je een heel leven kapot werken voor driekwart van het loon dat een man zou verdiend hebben in jouw plaats. Voor zover hij niet gewoon jouw plaats heeft ingenomen op het moment dat kraaienpoten de sneeuw van je gezicht kwamen verstoren, of toen je biologische klok het lef had om je te wekken terwijl je carrière net voor een stroomversnelling stond.

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Bastards

The cats monsters threw my Pet Shop Boys snowglobe (yes Madscot, the one you gave me) off the bookshelf. Result? A crack in the plastic and a lot of water on the floor/in the sink. A very sad looking snowglobe with sparkly bits on the bottom is the result (the bottom of the globe, not the bottom of the Pet Shop Boys).

They also found a way to get above the fireplace and knocked over my Professor Snape figure! Making him almost look undignified.
Almost.
Of course.

They must be severely punished...

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And another thing!

And while I'm venting, I might as well get this over with. I am sick and tired of these bloody cheap crap Flemish "housey" "dance-y" dull soulless dance music groups.
There's this one song that really gets on my nerve these days, called "You lied to me". I have no clue which of the idiots it's by, Sylver, Milk bloody fucking Inc, Lasgo, whatever, they all sound exactly the same to me, and it doesn't matter. This does: it is shit. It's utter crap. There is nothing in that song that makes it worthwile to even be released. The same bloody "beats" and "rythms" which we've heard in countless songs before, lyrics that are worse than those of the average Spanish Eurovision Entry (when they sing in English) and undoubtedly a pouty, big-breasted girl out of "singing school" with some ugly geek standing behind a keyboard "whipping up" the crowd with shouts of "let me see your hands y'all". Even though he's Flemish and performing in Flanders.
Get over yourself, you're not some American rapper.

I guess it's my own fault for listening to Radio Donna... but I just don't feel like getting depressed when I'm listening to my car radio (stu bru anyone?), I'll settle for incredibly pissed off instead.

PS: And that "Billy Shakespeare" song? My god. Don't get me started on that! If you want to "feel what it's like to rebel now", you undoubtedly 15-year-old silly marketed bint, you should read Mister (for that's "Sir" to you, and not Billy) Shakespeare, you might learn something from it! And for crying out loud, get to school so you might be able to read and write your own crappy song lyrics.

So right. Conclusions anyone?

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IRA?

Please don't let this be true.
Would be the bloody last thing we need.

What I don't get is how in the same article the constable first talks of the IRA and then of the Provisional IRA. I was under the impression those were two distinct groups, the IRA having agreed to the ceasefire and the Provisionals not. Or did they eventually? It's all bloody confusing.
But I can only think there'll be a great difference in the consequences depending on which of the IRAs is behind this.

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Nerd

A ginger tomcat is sitting on my lap, staring intensely at the computer screen. Occasionally he'll dart up and try to attack the screen, walking on the keyboard. He'll wave his paw at the screen and touch it, like now. My typing cnget rather messedup when he does that.

He's fascinated by it.

But I wonder what he sees. Is a world of internet opening up for him? Is he following all the online bitching, the bernard comments, the slash and general pervyness? Or is it just the flickering of light, the moving of images that gets his attention? Perhaps he just likes sitting on my lap and is jealous of the screen, for it seems to absorb my attention.
I don't know.
But I'd love to see what he sees.

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Alas...

They did not forget about my birthday at work.
This gives me one less thing to moan about.

Unfortunately this also means they kissed me.
Aargh.

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Just something of interest darlings

Child of our time
Watch this, Tuesday, 10pm, BBC1.

25 Children from different backgrounds are being followed from the time they were born untill they're 20. I've been watching this for five years now, and the kids are now 4. Every year you see how these children grow and what effect their parents have on them. Truly amazing (and quite daunting when you're thinking about having children).

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The list

I'm on Warskinny's "Must call when drunk" list.
I found out as he called me at about 1.30 am this morning singing "happy birthday". I think he forgot the occasion was New Year's.

Ah well.
It's flattering, in a way, isn't it?

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