Junior Eurovision

Anyone up to watching this candy-cane fest of a show?
I haven't given it much thought to be honest, but I feel it's my obligation and my destiny! Perhaps my country's result depends on my watching the contest.
(In that case we might do a lot better if I'd decide not to watch the contest again, I haven't brought us much luck so far).

So. Any thoughts? Suggestions? Flags to be waved and songs to be sung? Evening gowns to be ironed and tuxes to be steamed?



Meanwhile... this is Thor.
-oh boy-

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Mirror mirror

I wish I were a gorgeous dancer.

h

*sigh*

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dieterenfilip

Vanavond alweer de laatste aflevering van het fantastische The Block.
Niet dat het programma op zich interessant is, noch de borsten van Hanne (So Fucking Big), laat staan die van Hans. Vergeet die arrogante Limburgers, die leuke krullenkop met ballen aan haar lijf en die wazige Antwerpenaars. Nee, de reden waarom wij, hij en waarschijnlijk ook U verslaafd zijn aan The Block is het fantastische koppel Dieter en Filip!

Keihard werkend, singletjes uitbrengend, frietjes etend, bekommerd om een meerwaarde en altijd onbegrijpelijk en schandelijk genegeerd door die kut-experts. Maar ja, "wat weten vrouwen daar nu eigenlijk van". Een Hamam in een loft is toch uniek! Ik zou het bijna "unieker" noemen. En een safe! In de slaapkamer! Deze artistieke visie werd echter nooit beloond. Begrijpelijk dan ook dat de Heren in een dipje zaten.

Dank U, dieter-en-filip, dat U voor eens en altijd getoond hebt aan Vlaanderen dat niet alle homo's strandjeanetten zijn. Er zijn blijkbaar ook Blockjeanetten (de vraag is welke soort jeanet erger is). Bedankt voor ettelijke weken kijkplezier, plaatsvervangende schaamte, 'honesty' en emmertjes naar boven dragen.
En nu kijken of de loftkopers jullie meerwaarde erkend hebben.

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Idiots.

I came home this evening to find that the cats had broken out of the kitchen, into our downstairs toilet and the scullery.
Urgh.
There were paw prints inside the toilet (I don't even want to know what they did there), they chewed on our garbage bag (that'll be 1.25 Euro please) and probably sat on their bags of (fresh) kitty litter. They also played around with an empty bag of catfood.

The idiots didn't see the full bag of catfood I'd forgotten in the kitchen though.

Ha!



(In work news: I feel I'm getting close to snapping at people and telling them "to sort it out themselves, who do they think I am, a bloody magician!?!". Might not be such a good idea.

I'm also more and more annoyed with my colleagues. Why oh why am I always stuck with the born again christians? She's probably the funniest of the bunch and she's always nice to me (despite my being a big fat LESBIAN of course) but now and again this little homophobic viewpoint comes out... oh dear. Not that some of my other colleagues are much better ... how I wish I could tell them what I really think of their views on sexuality and gender!
"I really don't understand why so many men marry women when they know they're gay" *looking at me for the answer*... What? I'm to be held accountable for that?? Aargh.)

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Fortysomething

A babyshower allows you to see your colleagues in a more relaxed and personal atmosphere.
Isn't that lovely.

"You sure eat a lot of chocolate, Piglet! And you don't gain weight!" (after one glass of wine)

"And you drink lots of coca cola as well! I mean!" (the second glass of wine...)(Erm, actually I just drink the one kiddie bottle of coke a day, for The Energy. Better than Red bull of which they'd think it was alcohol)

"You sure eat a lot of sweets, Piglet!" *angry glance* (erm...)

"Watch my word though. When I was your age, I could eat whatever I liked as well. But now... " *ominous glance my way*

Bitchy women in their forties. What a joy.

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Shock and Horror

Below are the prices for a hospitalisation insurance at my health insurance (well, I need to get one sooner or later... if I want to financially be able to give birth in a hospital one day):

0 - 17 yr: € 24,48
18 - 24 yr: €42,84
25 - 59 yr: €64,32
60 - 69 yr: €122,28
From 70 yr: €180,48

I'm shocked and horrified.

What the hell do they mean, I'm in the group with people up to 59 years old?!

It's official.
I'm over the hill.

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Smarmy Git



Alan Shore: "You know I'm not about to go to Texas and not ride the mechanical bull, Chelina. That would be like going to Los Angeles and not sleeping with Paris Hilton."

Will you look at this smarmy git. Alan Shore. Isn't he obnoxious? You should hear what he says and does, that 'll make him even worse.

But I love him.
Purely platonic of course!
All this to say Our Favourite Geek got us Season 1 and 2 of Boston Legal.
And we like it.

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Meddlesome Monsters

Our cats aren't subtle. If they want food, they'll walk in front of you on your way to the kitchen until you trip over them. If they want to be petted, they force themselves on your lap or in front of whatever you're reading until you do as they ask. If they want to go outside they whine at the door or -much simpler- they escape whenever they get the opportunity.

I feel they're getting more and more meddlesome however.
Yesterday they broke into the cupboard under the sink and displaced the bucket (there to catch the water that falls from wherever we've got a leak) causing us to have a swimming pool in our kitchen. In Cat Language that either means: "you're not home enough so we had to punish you" or "we started flooding this damn kitchen so you'd finally clean it, lazy arse!".
Today they'd dragged a plastic bag into their litter box. Either they'd tried to fill the bag with the dirty litter, or they just wanted to tell us to clean the damn thing.

What's next though? They'll be rolling the phone to us to tell us to phone our parents? Block our view of the tv when they feel it's time for bed? Start playing with the bills on our notice board when they feel we should pay them?
We're completely whipped...

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Test drive

I tried out The Girlfriend's new second hand car today. I had no choice, since my own car was at the garage to be serviced and I had to do the work-thing. Took it for a test drive yesterday evening, with a shrieking girlfriend next to me: "switch gears faster! This is petrol, not diesel!" "what are you doing?!" and more encouraging words like that.

I'm glad to report that I didn't have a single accident.

I did accidentally honk at the police, and I blinded all the other drivers when driving back home with the big lights on...

But apart from that it went perfectly!

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Shaken, not stirred

Zurcherart over on Livejournal pointed me to this gem.
This walking washboard stomache nearly won the Eurovision and it's all because of you poofs out there! For once I wished for you to get your mind out of the gutter. Shameless! Shameless!

And to think I thought the boy was just naive back then. This video is by far the biggest gay soft porn music video I've ever seen, no one could be *that* naive...
Anyone who knows of a more gay-porny video, do point it out (for research purposes only, of course).

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November 11th

Today it's 12 years since Pedro Zamora died. The cause of many an angsty bout of teenage depression for me and scribbled mottos and quotes on my school books.
Also the cause of my pinning a red ribbon on my bag ever since then (even though I've lost my latest one and desperately need a new one. Bastards) and becoming a bit of an activist.

It might have been silly teenaged hero-worship on my part back then, but the guy did a good thing and he went too soon.
Bloody bastard disease.

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Granny Central

Friday afternoons are Granny Central at my local supermarket. Grannies and Grandads side by side, strolling through the shop as if they've got all the time in the world. Well, they do of course. Lucky bastards. All of them were amazed by the crowds in the shop today but -as they noticed- the shop probably won't be open tomorrow will it. No, love, it won't.
Holidays on a Saturday are fantastic for people working in shops, but hell for those of us who don't. After all, what to do on a Saturday when you can't spend money?! Yikes. Many a queen will drive himself mad with anxiety!

Trying to locate all the stuff The Girlfriend uses in her experimental cooking wasn't easy. I brought home enormous amounts of stuff I know she likes (which will then go off before she has a chance to eat and drink it all) and threw in some gifts for myself, like er... cleaning products. Oh, the things I treat myself to when I know she's not there.

The cats are currently eating the plastic wrapping of tissue paper. I think it might be their way of telling me to buy unwrapped stuff. "Save the environment, you polluting human!"

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