Sugar mice

in teh rain:


Yes, lazy blog day again.

I'm not 100% sure, but I'm fairly certain marillion is something you either like a lot, or are blah! about.

I think I fall into blah. I really like this one.... and I suppose Kayleigh is ok in an on every 80's compilation album filler kind of way... but other than those I couldn't name another song. Sorry Fish....

Toy story

No, not the film / lunch box / back pack / marketing machine.

This toy story:


~wavy lines~
Back in my youth, I got (at the time) the ultimate lego set, the technic car chassis. Wow, I'm so lucky!

Or not. A certain parent decided I was not suitable to touch it. Said parent then spent the best part of two months building the thing with plenty of on the go swearing as he was, frankly, crap at it. It was then put on display, where I wasn't allowed to play with it.

Obviously I cannot recreate the magic of that Christmas. But as I've just survived the rapture, I had the thought that I should buy some lego of my choosing, and I could build it, and darn it, wouldn't it be fun?

Snag #1 was detected on visiting the toy shops. Lego is now very expensive. £30 gets you a small model that looks like it could be built in about half an hour. No fun!

So evilbay was visited, and I came away the proud owner of said used truck pictured above. For £41.59 delivered to me.

Said big box arrived today. Progress has been perhaps a bit on the sedate side of things. I've followed seven pages of instructions, and have a bit of rather sad looking chassis assembled. A major part of the problem being the set has 1027 pieces. That are all in the box, mixed up. The joys of second hand lego... methinks I need to get some boxes and do some sorting if I don't want to exceed the giffer's slow build record.

Think of the children

So I watched a bit of tv.

It's an expose on how old TVs that should be recycled here end up in Nigeria, where poor children like the one interviewed scavenge metals out of them and are exposed to massive amounts of toxic stuff. It's all awful and it's our fault!

But then I thought about it a bit more.
Yes, the toxic exposure is pretty bad. But...

They examined a container of TVs and found 30% in working order. So presumably the man in Nigeria who's name is on the outside of the container buys them like this as he can make a profit selling the 30% that do work. You could argue that he is also the villain for dumping the 70% that don't work for children to scavenge from.

Child interviewed states he no longer goes to school, as his mother died and he is collecting metal from TVs to feed the family. So if the evil modern world stopped sending bad TVs, he would be in school instead? Er, or more likely he would be working on something even more awful or hazardous... you only take the worst job if you can't get a better one.

30% of them work??? They say these are TV's that have been thrown away at council dumps as unwanted / broken. Who are these wasteful people? Prolly the same idiots that must have the latest iphone.

I think I should go back to my policy of only watching Doctor Who. TV is the devil's tool.

size matters

Excitement for Ma Ma!

FX: phone rings.

Hello, I would like to purchase the smallest hair drier in the world!
Er, we don't sell hair driers of any size.
You don't?
sorry, no.
But the website says you do?
Sorry, we don't...

I'm glad she got this call instead of me. Intrigued I googled said phrase. Turns out one of the places I buy ducks from also sells "the smallest hair drier in the world", and has me down as a stockist, which is nice, if inaccurate of them.

Sadly, I got this earworm which I will share with you now in the traditional lazy blog way:



If only there had been the technology to blanket broadcast Ms. Fields to Germany during ze war it would have all been over within 3 weeks. Surrender or we play the b sides Adolf...

Top tip

When Ma Ma puts your olbas inhaler through the washing machine in your jeans pocket, do not:

a) unscrew the cap and check that it looks physically intact.

followed by

b) apply to nostril and inhale deeply.

Trust me, throw the damn thing away. Unless you like a mix of detergent, and mega strong decongestant blasting your face off. And your nose burning for the next 30 minutes as you struggle to breathe.

Feel free to share your top tips.
NB: Ma Ma already knows the one about your offspring will sulk if you laugh at his misfortune.

On helping

Or wanting to, but failing to do so.

The day starts with a phone call for me. From Sonja. Which means her 20 something idiot son has screwed up the computer again and she wants me to fix it. Ok, I'll be 10 minutes...

Sure enough, mega screwed up. One of those fake "your computer is infected" things that stops you running anything else 'cos it's "infected". Normal action being to system restore back to before it happened, except system restore not working even in safe mode. Fun!

Made more fun by trying to be diplomatic. "Why does this keep happening?" asks Mumsie. The answer of course being "because you have a stupid 20 something son who keeps looking at porn sites and is stupid enough to click anything that says click here". He's not even smart enough to use private browsing... But of course you can't say that... you can be none committal, and watch boyo squirm, and blame the same people that hacked the sony playstation network.

So that was a fail, as I'm going to have to go back with usb stick full of goodies to fix it.

Coming home, I call in at the supermarket. Hmmm, busy roads here. Ah, that would be because there is a small nissan micra blocking the critical petrol station junction bit. A micra with the added feature of the driver's side being caved in. Presumably owned by the crying woman nearby. Restyled by another woman in a mondeo.

I want to help. I want to tell her it will be all right. That she's not hurt and that cars can be mended. And put in a big whiplash claim for a free holiday.
I don't of course, for I have the people skills of a slug, and I'm sure the last thing she needs is some gormless gimp on top of her motor getting bent. I mentally project good wishes and go on my way, but feel bad about it.

More not helping on the morrow.

Claret

Or my day going splat.

I've got a thing about blood. Or more accurately my blood. I'd be upset if you was bleeding to death, but not as much as if it was me injured.

So I'm doing the usual garage work thing. Lathe running, boring a gaiter fixing. Yes, it's as dull as it sounds. But I have to stand there and watch it, as it gets hot doing it, and I haven't got the coolant system working yet, so the high tech solution is to dribble a bit of oil on the cutting tip every now and then.

Dull, dull, dull! Until...... ARGH!
Mr. not concentrating here has only gone and made contact 'twixt thumb and rotating chuck. Oh dear.. Shut the machine down, DON'T LOOK AT IT, go and see Ma Ma.... Plz to fix the damage and make it better while I have a little collapse on this nice floor... SPLAT!

I come round, and from my angle on the floor the new (broken) window looks more broken. So still a bit woozy go to investigate it. DON'T TOUCH IT! shouts Ma Ma.

Too late... OW! Splat #2? Don't mind if I do.....

What's love got to do with it?

Not a lot as it happens. For this is about windows. The glass kind.

The one in the kitchen went defective, so you can't see through it for the condensation between the glass. Idiot girl has a bezzie mate who's a real professional window fitter, and he'll fix it properly, no bother.

Weeks pass by while we wait for him to come and measure the glass. More tumble weeds pass waiting for him to come and fit it.
Today is the day! I am woken by vague thumping noises! I wait till they stop and go back to sleep.

I get up at the usual time, and comment to Ma Ma "well that looks better!"
"Er, not exactly" she says, "look more closely".

I do. It's no longer steamed up. But there's a huge crack running up it. "Oh!"
Mr real professional broke the new window fitting it... And he's going on holiday for a few weeks now, but promises he'll come back and fit a none broken one instead...

Lazy blog:
What's love got to do with it? - a 'slightly different' cover version.

Retail therapy

Sometimes it doesn't hurt to cheers oneself up with a bit of mindless purchasing. Today was my day.

I bought:

A tile cutting machine, used (£1)
Ma Ma asks why? Well I may want to cut tiles someday... plus I have a moderately mad idea for glass work that I could use it for.

Four alloy wheels, used. (£450) For the car that hasn't moved for 5 years, 2 months.
Ma Ma was most pleased with this purchase. I can tell by the way she said "you're insane".


Note boring standard wheel fitted to car, and OMG SEXY! rare alternative wheel. (not fitted).

A grinder stand, used. (£1)
I've got to show you this sweetie:


Isn't she a dreamboat?

Ma Ma refused to help me carry it. And yes, it's probably worth £30 in scrap metal alone, and weighs URGH! kilos.

Books! (£50)
Well, I haven't got them yet, because they're coming from USA. 'Cos they're signed by the person who wrote them.

Perhaps it's a good thing that most of the time I'm incredibly careful with money.

Bonus audience participation!
What retail therapy have you bought yourself recently, and why? Enquiring minds want to know.

Other side of the coin

I don't flickr that much since the whole Misty thing, it's kind of taken the fun out of it. Occasionally I'll have a look and see what peeps I know are up to. Sometimes I go against my better judgement and see what she's up to.

Today was one of the times I shouldn't have bothered. She gets setup with a "we miss you comment", and replies thus:

I've been better. I'm going through a seriously shitty time for a while and having one certain reader that I thought was a good friend leaving really nasty and hurtful comments over on my blog as well as here did nothing to help matters, and everything just got on top of me leaving me with crippling writer's block...
The only reason I'm still on Flickr is because a) I refuse to break my run of finished Scavenger Hunts, and b) I could block that person's comments and delete what ever else they'd written!
I do miss you all and I hope I'll be back sometime soon!
*hugs*

O'realy? Nice to know that I'm now the cause of all her woes.

My side of the coin remembers it as a) I stopped giving her money b) she started giving me the cold shoulder in direct proportion to how much money she was missing out on. I pointed out this wasn't very nice & got banned for it. The end.

The other difference is of course she has an army of people who will read her every word, and I have my blog with 2 followers who will think argh! why am I still reading this pap. So 100's now think I'm an arse, and 2 know it for sure. And I can't even put my view in reply.

Still, no one said the world had to be fair...

On the best laid plans of mice and men

I do the stained glass class thing. It's actually something I greatly enjoy, takes my little mind off other things, and the chance to slowly gain lead poisoning at the same time.

The person who teaches it gave me a card at the last session. "you are invited" it says in big friendly letters "to come to my open studio event".
I wasn't going to go, 'cos I always think they must have printed too many cards, and are just using up the surplus on me. Really, who would want me around their home?
But last Saturday I thought sod it, and went. A nice drive in the sunshine along winding country roads. True, there was episodes of fear when I actually got there, but I was welcomed, and generally had a nice time.

The fail then kicks in.
She pimps her taster session of making things with willow. So as usual I can't commit and say I'll think about it. Got back home, thought about it, and yes I would like to have a go. Sent a text message, got no reply... so being a gimp did nothing about it, and session missed.

Friday comes around, and glass class starts again. She tells me she didn't get my message until Tuesday, but there's one last class on Saturday if I still want to do it. YES! I sayeth.

Saturday AM, text message, "I is ill, class cancelled". Methinks some things are not to be.

Urine extraction

That's what idiot Girl is doing AGAIN.

It's now official, she has a new bloke. And so must have "right kegs" constantly, or is not happy. As mundane things are not kegs, they are to be passed off to any other sucker.

A while back IG decides the bathroom is crap. So it's "really therapeutic" to smash all the tiles, and put big holes in the wall in the process. She's 'helping' to get the job done, 'cos when she gets a new bathroom she won't have to pay someone to take the tiles off.
Slight flaw being a) will have to pay for all the extra damage fixing, and b) no money to pay for it, so left in a smashed mess for years.

Fast forwards to now... new bloke and my bathroom is awful! So she arranges for a man to fix it. And tells him you can come any time, we will work around you!

There are no prizes for guessing this means he says Monday, so the Idiot Girl party goes on holiday on the Saturday before.... or indeed for guessing who's problem it becomes.

Tomorrow is my turn again to be 'useful'. Idiot Girl is going avec Ma Ma to see "ghost the musical". She thinks "well the dog will be ok dumped in the house all day". No, no it won't. So I get to do the dog ownership thing by default while she goes looking for poor dead Patrick Swizzle.

Vaguely appropriate lazy blog: Take it away Eric!