Happy war

Christmas is over.

The C'riz household now has a large surplus of vegetables.

We went to tesco yesterday to find a wall of clearance stuff blocking the entrance. About 5 cubic meters (approx guess) each of potatoes, carrots & swedes. All sell by that day, so a trolley full for less than a pound.

Then today we went to asda who had 20 or so boxes of sprouts at 1p per bag. Again, become toxic at midnight. Both stores also had a giant heap of iceberg lettuce, so I guess no one likes lettuce for Christmas.

It's such a waste though. People starving around the world, and Barno shops have massively over ordered on stuff just so they don't sell out, but will end up throwing it all away. I know supermarkets pay very little for products, but surely they can't make a profit this way?

In other news I've started reading a new author - John Barnes. So far I'm liking what I see, it's all pretty twisted far out stuff. The last one was an alternate futures, what would happen if WW2 had been won by the Germans?

Makes you think.... What if Yoko had taken the bullets n John Lennon had lived?

Back to life

back to reality, sang soul II soul.

They left out the bit about it grinding you down. Although, really if I think about it I'm glad to be back working. Christmas hasn't exactly been a barrel of laughs, more a simmering pot of hatred ready to bubble over at any minute. On the bright side I haven't had seasonal depression yet.

It's a false start really, 'cos the post will throw me another stoppage for new year, but then it's ahead, groove factor five! There's so much to look forwards to in the new year! I've got the dentist lined up to tell me a)broken teeth and b) kerching!, the doctor to tell me all about living (or not) with liver failure.

On the nice side of things, the stained glass course starts again, and I may do the spice thing, and I have a few other top secret plans I'm thinking I may do if they don't terrify me silly. More on this when I've thought it through a bit more.

Greets to the other working hommies! Boo to Idiot Girl and her smug still on holiday attitude.

My Christmas

by C'riz, class 2b.

So Christmas day rolls round. I put on my most brave face and go out to face the family.

It's moderately awful on the present front. Every year I tell them I don't want anything. Which is true, if I have desires for stuff I act on them and buy. I don't need things to be happy. This time they've gone for the lots of choklit & a cuddly toy approach. Meh. What's wrong with the amazon gift voucher if a) you really must buy something and b) have no clue?

I then drive to idiot girl's to deliver the heavy things she has got that have been left here. Idiot girl is "ill". Nothing to do with having spent most of the night consuming large quantities of C₂H₅OH... no siree.... I am rather lacking in sympathy. Especially when I am told she has poured a large amount of fat down the sink, and now the sink 'doesn't work'. Guess that will be my fun later.

We watch doctor who, which is, frankly, rubbish. Token 3 minute appearance by Pond & boyo. It's also totally wrong, the doctor reasons with people to change, not meddles with time to force them to.

It's now 7pm, so Idiot girl has gone out for round 2 of liver damage. Ma Ma's magic sink unblocking solution hasn't worked at all, so muggins gets to dismantle the pipes and physically pull out the fat. This pleasant job is made all the better by Ma Ma's stuff being basically strong bleach that burns my arm and ruins my jeans. Marvellous!

Fast forwards to boxing day. Idiot girl is even more "ill". Ma Ma tells Idiot girl she is going to the sales. Idiot girl tells Ma Ma that today is a Sunday (correct), and boxing day cannot be on a Sunday (wrong), and thus all the shops will be shut as it's illegal to be open on the day after Christmas if it's not boxing day.

Bizarrely Ma Ma believes this steaming pile of Tottenham that Idiot girl has invented and stays at home. Well, believes it until the news comes on, broadcasting live from the mall with record crowds. Ma Ma then spends the next hour moaning about it to me.

Ma Ma then settles down to watch, and I kid you not, crocodile dundee (the teatime censored edit). She has the tv cranked up to max volume. Oh Ma Ma, could you turn it down a soupcon please?
She turns it down to the point where it is inaudible, and starts giving me the sigh and glare treatment.
Bugger this for a game of soldiers. I get changed and go to work in my -3 C garage. So I was also joining the illegal working stiffs on my day off. At least it's free from other people there, so I cannot be wrong.
Slight snag that all this cold has turned my coolant tank to a block of ice, but I manage to smash it into smaller chunks and then melt them with fire.

One positive outcome is I'm 95% decided to go for it. I be thinking of joining spice, which appears to attract persons 35 - 45 who have no life and want to meet new people and do new things. Who knows, I could be lucky and get my very own bunny boiler...

Even if I don't, I'm going to try and do more new things this coming year.

Right, off to read the blogs of other nice people. Attempt to get the happy by osmosis. Come on, hurry up and write them....

Merry everythings to all

Even teh Misty who has today blocked me from her flickr. I think it's supposed to upset me for Christmas. Shame it isn't doing. In fact it's a nice sense of closure, draws a line under things. Be a new year soon, and hopefully a new me.

I know you're prolly busy with family, fun, work (delete as applicable), so I'll leave you with a song. I like this one, alien visitation myths are soooo cool!




(Yes, I know it's a cover. I like the smokie version better than mr. lady in red)

Merry everythings, may you find whatever you are looking for.

Sorry doggies

I've found an alternative use for mein papa's money.

A bloke I 'know' from the interweb has been going downhill for years now. Can't get work, isn't entitled to benefits. A couple of years ago he sold his apartment and has been living off the money since. Today he emailed me to say 'goodbye for now', as the money has finally run out and he's being evicted on the 26th. He's in the USA, the land of the free.... free to end up in a tent @ -10C

So I'm sending him the money. I doubt it will go far, but it may help a little. He's hoping to be able to claim disability benefits, but doesn't find out if he 'wins' until 22nd February. Not sure what happens if he loses.

Sad face= on.

Fear

Had a truly frightening experience today. The plan was simple, go to tescos and buy shopping, then go to the tyre shoppe and have my new tyres fitted at vast expense.

Tescos part went fine. Got in the car, and drove onto the road. Ma Ma starts fiddling in her bag. "Are you not feeling well Ma Ma?" (For Ma Ma is diabetic). Indeed she has testing kit in her hand, but appears to be struggling to use it. "No problem, I'll pull into the DIY store car park", which I do 2 minutes later.

"Right, you can test now".

Oh dear.... Ma Ma has fallen forwards with only the seatbelt keeping her from going splat. She is also not responding to me unless I shout, which gets the smallest of eye movement. I don't need a meter to tell me this is mega low blood sugar. I take the bag off her knee to get the glucose tablets out of it.

Er, why are there no glucose tablets, just an empty wrapper? Argh!!!!

You know the bit in back to the future where Marty dives in the delorian to escape from the Libyans? Lets see if you bastards can do 90!!!! It was a bit like that.... Jumped 3 red lights, went down the no entry except buses road, dumped the car and miss. voyage to trip out city on tesco's petrol station forecourt. One dash inside and I have glucose energy drink & choklit.

Came back out to find she's revived to the level where she's holding the blood test meter as if it's an artefact from another planet. Ma Ma, put it down and drink this. No, all of it please...

10 minutes later, and she's back in the land of humans. Where are we? Why aren't we at the cash machine? So obviously all in between was totally lost.

The fear being she's not typically like this. She normally knows when a hypo is beginning (I guess she had an idea 'cos of getting the meter out), but normally she's got 5-10 minutes of feeling ill before she becomes properly ill. It terrifies me to think if this had happened in the town when she was on her own.

Kill it with fire

I'm having a day off. Not 'cos I'm lazy, or can't take it any more, but 'cos it's just too dangerous to work today. Currently it's minus 5 Celsius. My 1940's vintage lathe is frozen solid by ice. At a push I could defrost it, but I think such an old lady deserves better. It would be quite easy to cause an irreparable crack, so I'm going for it's tough if you left it this late to order.

Plus the radio has found a new way to torture me. If you dare, clicky here followed by the play arrow.

Please note this is not my local radio station. Imagine the same thing, but without musical backing, or anyone capable of singing, being 'energetically' shouted by a half drunk Yorkshire man.

It needs killing to death. With fire.

Oh mein papa

No, not the song by the man with the golden trumpet.

I'm talking the one I'm (unfortunately) related to. I realised some gimp was thumping on my door, and hoping it was my new books being delivered went to look. No such joy, tis mein papa.

Come in, we can talk.

Of course this is the one thing we actually can't do. He doesn't want to listen to anything I have to say. He tells me how drunk he got. (I'm so impressed). I then get the questions. The same old tiresome questions.

These are:
1) How's your mum?
2) How's your sister?
3) Are you courting?

One day I'm going to really give him an answer to 3) Prolly the only reason I've not done so far is I've not decided which I like best.

"Actually, I'm gay. Ok if I bring my boyfriend round for sunday lunch?"
or
"Money can't buy you happiness. But it can buy you the love of a honey skinned dancer from Brazil."
or
"My cult leader says I must stab anyone who asks that. ~fx: sharpens knife~"

More (better) suggestions on a postcard plz.

Oh, and I got the same old envelope. The one I know will contain the same card as the last 20 years. I think he got them in bulk. But something is different this time.... there's £50 in it. Frankly, I'm not interested in him or his money. I'll prolly give it to Idiot Girl to burn, unless you have a better plan?

L.F.T

Or I'm going to die.

So my day starts with noticing the snow is coming back. I also have a message saying my aluminium has been delivered, so that's my day planned for me then, go fetch it while I'm still able to.

Halfway there and my phone rings. Tis Ma Ma, telling me the doctors has phoned, and would only say it's nothing to be worried about and to call them.

Awooga! Awooga!
They never phone you, you always have to chase them for results. So I'm instantly suspicious something is wrong. The feeling intensifies when I got there. (I called in as it's on the way home).

"Ah... Yes... you need another blood test, and then you'll need an appointment to see the doctor."

Crystal palace, go to defcon 2... Blood tests always work like take the test, results come back to the doctor, you phone up and they tell you what the doc thinks. I need an appointment before taking tells me they just want confirmation that I'm still on my last legs.

The last blood test had every box possible ticked. This one only has LFT, which of course is liver function test. Or maybe liver failure time.

Anyone want to bagsie some bits in my will?

Songs in the key of argh

If you work in a shop, or have the misfortune to spend more than 20 minutes in one you will no doubt hear one of those Christmas songs that makes you want to kill.

I think it's important to share things with people, so here's my lazy blogging of my least favourite Christmas song:



You may be thinking, but this isn't a Christmas song. Well, technically, no it isn't. But I've only got to hear 5 seconds of it and I get the horror come flooding back. It was in the charts Christmas 1992. I was working in a dive bar in a west end town in the centre of sunny Barnsley. It was awful, to ten decimal places.

The worst thing was the place couldn't decide what it wanted to be. I think technically it was supposed to be an Irish themed olde worlde pub. When it was quiet you would have old men, and the background muzzax was irish. To the point where the staff would pay to use the jukebox to turn it off.

But it also had insanely cheap drink promotions, so it was like a switch was pulled and all the younger peeps would appear and dance round their handbags. So that was my Christmas hell. If
I hear "man in the moon", "dancing queen" or "my way" I'm transported back there. Telling the boss I'm just going out for a smoke (when I don't) was the only way to escape the madness.

And your personal soundtrack to hell includes.....?

Faith, hop, and charity

And the greatest of these is hop.

(They just don't make tv like that these days).

So today I joined the rest of the lemmings for "a bit of last minute xmas shopping".
Yes, of course it was awful. Though low stress as a) I know exactly what I want and b) I don't know people, so didn't have to join in with the standard tiresome conversation (Eyup jack, hows tha goin? Not bad Fred... Is tha ready for xmas? etc etc as you block the way for people on a mission).

I also did a bit of the charity thing. As teh Misty is now officially an ex friend (n yes, still makes me sad) that means I don't have to buy her a present. So I have more money to use up.

Charity #1: Barno dog rescue.
Who are asking for food for dogs. I like this, it's direct and you are obviously helping the ones in need (teh dogs). I buy them dog food.

Charity #2 is found at tescos: The salvation army.
They want money, and have three men armed with instruments attempting to persuade you to give it. They must be the backup team, as normally the SA have big bands who can play. This lot though where I felt going for the pity vote. They would start strongly on a carol, but after about 45 seconds it all goes a bit wrong as the bloke with the tuba fluffs it, and they realise they don't know all the music. There was then a pause while they confer on what to try next, sadly with the same result.
I gave them 10 quid, and was wished a merry Christmas in return.

I don't mind giving them money, as I believe on the whole they do good work and help people. Ok, I'm still unsure on the god question, but you can put that aside and admire the help they give to people. If there is a God I'm sure all (s)he really wants is for us to be nice to each other.

Charities I'm not helping this year are the ones who have sent me fancy letters asking for help. This may appear mean when all they want is £20 to save a life / build a well / help Simba's cubs / cure cancer etc, but I've fallen for this one before. You give them £20, and over the next year they spend £19 of it sending you letters asking you for more money. I'm sure it's a front for a paper making company. I'd much rather buy dog food as I know it helps dogs.

Compare. Contrast.

I had the misfortune to be in the garage with the radio on at the same time as the charts was on. The dross that passes for music these days is unbelievable.

But there was one interesting thing. This year's first attempt at getting an anti x factor Christmas no 1 made it to #9. It was this song:



They played about 15 seconds of it, and then cut it, the oh so clever 'presenters' basically saying what a load of old sh*t, but in polite radio speak.

The chart then continues until #4 which is this:



This is apparently dead brilliant sayeth smashy n nicey.

The question:
Am I the only one to spot a similarity between said songs? Surely you could take teh bird song, add some random idiot mumbling rap over the top and it wouldn't be a million miles from teh hair song?

Answers on a postcard....

Doctor Doctor

can't you see I'm burning burning? (And repeating my words.)

Our doctor's operates a system whereby you have to plan illness 6 weeks in advance 'cos that's how long it takes to get an appointment. Unfortunately I forgot to plan ahead and so didn't have an appointment.

My problem is thus:
I'm itching. Randomly. With no spots, redness, etc. I can want to tear my face off for an hour, and then it stops and moves somewhere else.

After a week of this, life has been less than fun. So once again I check the online booking thing, and lo! there is an appointment in half an hour! Zoomed down there, told my tale of woe to the nice lady.

After a few random guesses (have you changed washing powder?) , and vice investigation (how much tea /coffee / alcohol? Er, none), I am booked in for a blood test with all the boxes ticked.

I am also 'given' this rather large 1kg tub of magic cream. Which doesn't do that much, but looks impressive.




Feel free to play diagnosis if you like? Bonus points for dead by xmas.

Erection

I was woken this morning by a large erection. Or more precisely by the monkeys constructing said erection next door. Said erection was pointed out to Ma Ma, who was less than happy.

Yesterday we spent quite a bit of time shovelling ice from the street so the bin could be placed exactly on the pavement edge. Said bin hasn't been emptied for three weeks due to the snow, so it is essential it gets emptied today. We know that if they have to walk on frozen stuff to get the bin, elf n safety will decide it's dangerous, and it won't be emptied.

So Ma Ma is quite peeved that the monkeys have a) moved the bin back onto the snow and b) are using the cleared bit to unload their truck. Some people would get passive aggressive here. Ma Ma prefers the direct approach. "Oi, monkeys! Put my bloody bin back where you got it from or I'll empty it in your bloody truck!"

For a 5 foot woman she is very intimidating. Said bin is replaced. Sadly I am kept awake as they create their erection all morning.

The house next door now has scaffolding all over the front with a bit looking like a diving board platform extending to the chimney. Quite what the intent is I'm not sure, but Ma Ma is getting a good head of steam built, as after all the chimney is 50% ours. Observe this space for developments.

Upbeat

Re-reading my rantings this month, it would be fair to say they project a picture of misery and depression. Whilst it is true all the Idiot Girl tasks have been less than fun, this is perhaps to borrow an s. duck phrase "the best Christmas Walford's ever seen".

Normally by now Xmas will have started getting to me, and I will have started acting fairly S.A.D

I don't know if the anger / sleep deprivation / mind numbing stupidity / sub zero temperatures is what's stopping it this year, or if I'm somehow magically cured, but I suppose I should enjoy it while I can.
Though I do keep going off on flights of fancy about saying sod it all and going to visit friend in New Zealand to escape.

Onto teh lazy blogging:



Anyone else remember this?

Must admit it's the video that sticks in my mind, pretty amazing for 1985. Of course today any child with a pc could do it.

Not again?

Yes, again.

Idiot girl again destroys my peace and calm. She does this by the power of telephones. You may or may not know, but I hate the bloody things, gives me the wiggins. So you can imagine my pleasure at being woken up by three phones (house, my mobile, Ma Ma's mobile) all ringing simultaneously.

Not much of a shock to find out all three are in fact her. She as always has a demand: Instantly take the keys for her sold house to the new owner. Now! I command you! Slightly annoying as it's already been arranged they where to be taken today.

To keep the peace I get up and we sort of follow her demands. We take them to the estate agents instead.

As we have now done her bidding she keeps the annoyance level high by phoning every hour to find out if her car is fixed yet.

The day ends, and she should be happy. House sale is fully done, and cannot be reversed. She has her car back and it's cost her nothing. (me £60, Ma Ma £200). So she is in a foul mood instead. I truely wish she would move to Australia, but that's a soupcon unfair on the people already there.

Downwards spiral

I go shopping moderately late night (9 - 10pm). This suits me as a) less people and b) more 'must sell before midnight or we throw it away' bargains.

Recently I've noticed more people. Lots more. Methinks more people have noticed the offers. So nobody buys in the day hoping to get things mega cheap at night.

It's working, but it's only going to end in tears. If they only sell stuff at reduced price surely the point will be reached where they order less stuff in the first place?

Some of it makes no sense though. Eg, 1 litre of paint full skim milk, 10p. Display until today, best before 7 days from today. What's that all about?
We bought one for idiot girl, as no suprise she likes the bloody awful stuff. Except.. Oh Ma Ma, why does this tea taste bloody awful?
Er, it's IG's Awful milk.

IG refused to have it as 'reduced', and even IG's dog wasn't stupid enough to drink it, so Ma Ma thought she'd dump it on me in the hope I wouldn't notice. Er, peal the reduced label off & put it in IG's fridge.

I did enjoy the 1/2 Kilo of perfect grapes for 10p. And the 6 pack of teacakes for 2p where perfectly fine, though Ma Ma usually refuses to buy reduced bread. Don't know why, it's still fine to use.

Methinks half the problem is the silly sub 10p pricing. If they charged more it wouldn't spiral downwards to the point where all people have is reduced stuff. It does feel 'nice' to have a full bag and have spent less than a pound though.

Idiot Update

I am officially poorer. And have had a nightmare morning.

Went to the bank. "we're closed, try our other branch". Went to bank #2.

Hello, I would like to make an instant transfer of lots of money from this account here...
Sorry, no can do, that's a savings account.
Ok, what about this business account here?
We cannot do that in branch, phone our helpline. Phoned them, yes we can do it, we will post you out the forms. Er, hardly an instant transfer if it's by post is it? That's the policy sir, bugger off.

Helpful lady in branch asks if it's ok. No, it isn't ok. I have lots of my money in your bank, and I can't spend it.

I then had an idea. Er, can I open an account that I am allowed to spend my money out of, so you can put my money in it, and then I'll instant transfer it out? Bev (for we are on first name terms by now) thinks it's a plan that may just work.

We open a new account. I'm missing out the bits where they ask everything including your shoe size, but I pass the credit check to open an account.

Ok, will just transfer the money out now. Success? Oh, no. Have to follow procedure... computer asks do I have the cash card for the account? Er, no, 'cos we only created it 5 minutes ago. Computer says no.

Bev phones helpline who spend about 40 minutes checking my dna, passport authenticity, etc etc before finally saying yes!

I nearly broke down and cried, and it's not even for me. I am officially 14K poorer and Idiot Girl now doesn't own a house.

So we phoned IG to tell her the news (this has taken about 2 hours by now). IG's idea of thanks is to snarl FINALLY! and slam the phone down.

Went to the shops, followed by a return to the bank to give Bev flowers.

Job done, just IG & car to sort out now, and I can get back to a peaceful life.

Groundhog minute

It's like groundhog day, but worse.

So idiot sister finds out that her house sale must complete tommorrow, but to do so the solicitors wants 14K of real money. Idiot girl has approx 57p. I am thus a target, as I save for the bright future that's just round the corner, honest.

Engage panic mode! This involves Ma Ma & Idiot Girl phoning a) solicitors, b)estate agents, c)bank, and d) each other.

D) is the killer. Because Ma Ma repeats to idiot girl everything she's said to a,b, &c. IG does likewise. Ma Ma then repeats the entire conversation to me. So I've heard it 3 times already. Then she spends the next hour either a) Saying shall I phone X, or b) rehashing everything that has been already said.

By the end of the day even though I've never met any of the people involved I feel I know them all intimately. I definately know exactly what they have said. I also feel the urge to destroy every phone I see. And to play this very loudly.

Of course Friday is also gonig to be fun. For 'tis off to the bank where I have to somehow sameday transfer £14,000 of my lovely hard earned money from my account that the bank staff are not allowed to talk to me about. (Internet management only).

Methinks it will be more groundhog fun. Send me positive vibes please if you have some to spare.

Foot. Gun.

Bang!

This guide brought to you with the help of Idiot Girl. (Naturally).

Situation is: still plenty of snow about, IG does not have her car. Yesterday she refused my car 'cos it wasn't defrosted and heated for her.

Today the queen arrives, and long suffering Ma Ma points out there is over 14 inches of snow on the back road where it is parked, and is IG sure she can actually drive it out backwards for 100 yards to the clearer roads?

IG tells Ma Ma to p*ss off and throws the keys in the snow and stomps off. Ma Ma doesn't do the logical thing of letting her (as she only hurts herself by walking), and gets your poor suffering narrator out of bed. I drive the car onto the main road. I then phone IG.

Do you want the car?
sweary sweary.
I'm not in the mood for your shit this early in the day. Do you want it, yes or no, or I'm putting it back away again.
Can I drive it?
Yes.
Can I drive it all day?
~sigh~ yes.
Fine! Phone slammed down.

Drove to IG's house. Here is the car IG. "Just drive me to the bus station"

By this point I've had enough of her games, and am not going to beg her to take it like she wants. I drive. Here we are, get out of my car, see you later!

But... I've not got wellies, I thought I would be driving!!!!!

You asked for the bus station, you get the bus station. Bye!

~~~~wavy lines~~~~~ (that's time passing you know)

It's now mid afternoon. IG presents a new problem. Can I lend her in the region of £14,000, and it must get to her solicitors by tommorrow or her house sale will fail.

Yes, I am stupidly trying to sort it. No I do think it's likely to happen. Somebody pass me something very good for headache curing plz?