http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/"Some people are settling down, some people are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less... than butterflies."en-UKMokoFeed10http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/http://data5.blog.de/design/preview/ce/6b290d1d4ed676e8e5ea8559eda08c_160x200.jpghttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/08/tips-of-the-day-7329660/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-11-08:/2009/11/08/tips-of-the-day-7329660/Sun, 08 Nov 2009 10:54:07 +0100 <p>Just some things I feel like I should say:</p> <p>1. Read <a href="http://kittynervosa.blog.co.uk/2009/11/07/blood-sweat-and-tears-7328581/">my friend's advice</a>. It's <em>very</em> good.</p> <p>2. I am getting louder and louder at screaming at my neighbours, who have sex every Sunday morning and make noises that can only be described as inhuman, nauseating and French.</p> <p>3. Going for a run and practicing pole dancing at 7am is somewhat wrong - and disturbing - yet feels so satisfying.</p> <p>4. How am I going to get tickets to see 30 Seconds to Mars at the end of the month if they're sold out? I need to meet Jared again and more importanly, need to get him to sign my arm again.</p> <p>5. When doing research, if you ask people who played major roles in your life to write something about you and they all begin the reply with 'Wow', what does that mean?!</p> <p>6. And what could George Bernard Shaw see when he said "You see things; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say, 'Why not?'"? Could it be that he was actually crazy and he wasn't talking about his dreams or inventions, and everything I stand for is bollocks?</p> <p>7. Thank God the airport police confiscated my hairdressing pair of scissors, and that the scissors I took from the kindergarten are blunt, therefore can't cut my own fringe.</p> <p>8. I really want to cut my fringe.</p> <p>9. Can you judge someone by their Facebook profile? You're supposed to describe yourself, but the groups you join can say a lot more about you. Here are mine, for example:</p> <p>- I Really Should Think Before I Speak<br> - Those who APPARENTLY talk in their sleep<br> - I LOVE CHEESE<br> - I am not a Lesbian but I'm in love with Zooey Deschanel<br> - Helen's going to jump out of a plane!<br> - Disney Gave Me Unrealistic Expectations About Love<br> - I LOVE PARIS ♥<br> - Melt in the middle chocolate pudding appreciation society<br> - You Haven't Tasted Chocolate Milk Until You've Tasted Chocomel<br> - Betty Crocker is my drug dealer<br> - The Oliver Myles Appreciation Society<br> - When I was your age, Pluto was a planet<br> - Kids Who Hid In Dep't Store Clothing Racks While their Mom Was Shopping<br> - I can name every Jelly Belly flavor<br> - I eat Nutella straight out of the jar<br> - Abusive Coffee Drinkers Anonymous<br> - Jelly Beans are the Sixth Food Group<br> - I have a star tattoo<br> - Just Say No!<br> - The Crepe Appreciation Society<br> - I'm Not Short I'm Petite<br> - Bridget Jones Support Group<br> - Anti War, Pro Puppies<br> - Peanut butter and jam appreciation society<br> - My name is Monica!!!<br> - Liverpool Marketing Elite<br> - Ben and Jerry's isn't just an ice cream but a religion<br> - Tyskie<br> - Randomely laughing because you remembered something funny<br> - Laughing When You Shouldn't<br> - Pineapples do not belong on pizzas<br> - Hate Being Told What To Do<br> - Pretending to Text in Awkward Situations<br> - I still laugh when everyone else is over it<br> - World Nutella Day</p> <p>10. Do not sing Barbie Girl to your man. He might leave, taking you with him, dragging you out of the room naked and accidentally chafing your knee on the wall. This is impossible to remember when you're having a shower, and you'll keep rubbing it with the body puff, thus never allowing it to dry up and stop stinging.</p> <p>Have a great Sunday. </p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/08/tips-of-the-day-7329660/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tips-of-the-dayhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/08/tips-of-the-day-7329660/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/07/i-am-sooooo-embarrassed-about-last-night-here-s-why-7324572/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-11-07:/2009/11/07/i-am-sooooo-embarrassed-about-last-night-here-s-why-7324572/Sat, 07 Nov 2009 10:55:52 +0100 <p>I am sooooo embarrassed about last night. Here's why:</p> <p>16:30: Post-meeting drinks. Two glasses of cosy Glühwein.</p> <p>18:00: Meeting friend. Don't have much time to have a drink as we need to be somewhere at 19:00. Order a carafe anyway and drink two glasses of red wine in half an hour.</p> <p>19:30: Fancy another drink. Have to be somewhere at 20:00. They don't have carafes and a bottle is cheaper than two glasses (I think. Even if it isn't, surely it's better value for money) so we order one. Drink two and a half glasses of wine in half an hour.</p> <p>20:30: Call Stephen to see if he fancies a snog cos I'm walking past his house. Get to his place, go straight to the bathroom to be sick. Accidentally puke on his toilet mat. "Mon, are you puking?" "No..." I was. Decide to go home straight away, without a kiss. (Or did I inflict one upon you?)</p> <p>21:00: Call friend to tell her I'm drunk and walking home, and that I love her. She tells me she's drunk on the ubhan, on the way to meet her friend at the airport.</p> <p>21:15: Get home, head straight to the bathroom.</p> <p>21:30: Wake up with head in the toilet. Phone rings. It's Stephen, asking if I made it home, if I feel okay and if I want him to come over. God no, I say. Don't want him to witness any more of this. Sweet, though.</p> <p>22:00: Get up and have a glass of water.</p> <p>23:00: Throw up water.</p> <p>1:30: Friend texts me to say she's still drinking, and slowly dying.</p> <p>5:00: I wake up. Guess I've had enough sleep. Check my emails. Have a horrible headache. Go back to bed.</p> <p>9:15: Ahh, feel much better. Except for the feeling that I've done 500 sit-ups.</p> <p><em>So</em> unlike me. I went for one drink and all of a sudden, I realised I was drunk. I think I have some apologising, and perhaps some washing, to do today. Again, I am <em>so</em> embarrassed.</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/07/i-am-sooooo-embarrassed-about-last-night-here-s-why-7324572/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>accidental-tipsinesshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/07/i-am-sooooo-embarrassed-about-last-night-here-s-why-7324572/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/07/berlin-macht-wild-7324411/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-11-07:/2009/11/07/berlin-macht-wild-7324411/Sat, 07 Nov 2009 10:15:24 +0100 <p>Yesterday my best friend back home sent me this text:</p> <p><em>"Friends are the ones you don't have to speak to everyday, who understand why you didn't take their advice and the ones who call you at 4am to let you know they are drunk. Who tell you you are stunning even when you're crying and remind you that you can do better than the guy who doesn't treat you like a princess. They listen when they've heard the same story 1000 times, who call you to gossip about nothing and whether you're dancing on the table or passed out drunk they'll turn and say, 'Yeah, that's my friend'."</em></p> <p>That made me feel warm and fuzzy inside, as I thought about my friends. I talk about them a lot on my blog, so maybe it's time I told you more about the lovely protagonists in my life.</p> <p>Let's start with K. I met K a week after I landed here in May. She'd been here a month longer than me, so we were getting to know the place and helping each other settle in. Oh, she succeeded. </p> <p>I had my first proper Berlin night out with her, and didn't get home until 6am. And I've blogged about <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/09/06/ja-ja-ja-6903255/"><em>that</em> weekend</a>, that started with her party. That was one hell of a weekend - we still refer to it as 'that mad weekend'. And she was here when the police came to shut down the party at my place. She's my co-saviour (Stephen is the other one) when I'm lost and need train directions, which still happens every now and then. But never, not once, did she complain about me being a directionless retard. When I was going through a really hard time one particular day, she called me and asked if I was at home. I was in bed, ignoring the world. When I told her I was in, she asked me to let her in, because she was downstairs. She came armed with the biggest bunch of flowers, one rose, Milka chocolate and the sweetest postcard, with encouraging words. She never tells me she's busy when I need to talk, even though she must be sometimes. She listened to my whining on a daily basis when I was locked in the bathroom at work crying because I was losing my mind, and called me after work to cheer me up and reassure me that it would be over soon - she even started a countdown. She taught me the best drinking game ever, one where not many people can remember the turnout - it's that good. She gives me thoughtful 'cheer up' gifts and tells me everything will be fine. She does give me advice, but she encourages me to do what I want to do, unless what I want to do is completely irrational - then she tells me so. She has great ideas: whether it's a pros and cons list, or a question that makes you think about the answer, she knows how to make you have a good time. And let's not forget the jokes. She knows the most awful jokes, which are so awful and cute you have to laugh your head off. There hasn't been one that wasn't hilarious. They're certain to lift up your spirits.</p> <p>So here's to K *lifts up glass of water (I'm never drinking red wine again)* - one of the biggest reasons I'm glad I moved to Berlin. Love ya girlie!</p> <p>(She taught me the choreography to this song, too.)</p> <p>Lots of love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/07/berlin-macht-wild-7324411/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>berlin-macht-wildhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/07/berlin-macht-wild-7324411/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/04/time-to-buy-long-johns-7305426/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-11-04:/2009/11/04/time-to-buy-long-johns-7305426/Wed, 04 Nov 2009 13:58:52 +0100 <p>I was sitting on my bed, typing away on the laptop, telling my friend about my plans for Bonfire Night here, when I looked out of the window... </p> <p>Oh my God. Oh. My. God.</p> <p>I called the male. "It's snowiiiing!!" The male grumbled. Ok, wrong person. Called the Australian friend. "It's snowiiiing!!". "Ahhhhhh I knooooow!!!". There we go... </p> <p>I love <a href="http://images.google.co.uk/images?hl=en&q=serra%20da%20estrela%20portugal&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&tab=wi">this place</a> in Portugal that's full of mountains, which get really snowy in winter. It's one of my favourite places on Earth, and it's breathtaking - one of the places in Portugal I'd like to live in. I've been to Switzerland in the heart of winter and wore ski clothes. I've had snow fights with my friends pretty much every year since 2000. But... I <em>am</em> Portuguese, from Lisbon. There ain't snow in Lisbon. And I lived in Sao Paulo - no snow there, either, just smog. And let's face it, snow in Liverpool is pretty ridiculous, as it turns into ice and melts the next day.</p> <p>So, when I saw the snow, obviously I started screaming - half because it's so pretty and exciting, and half because it's only the beginning of November. Make that 80% excitement, 20% fear. Actually, 60%, 40%. </p> <p>Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go and make the most of being unemployed and having an empty house and <del>dance like a lunatic</del> work my ass off in the lounge.</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/04/time-to-buy-long-johns-7305426/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>time-to-buy-long-johnshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/04/time-to-buy-long-johns-7305426/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/03/crazy-berlin-7301468/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-11-03:/2009/11/03/crazy-berlin-7301468/Tue, 03 Nov 2009 21:09:23 +0100 <p>A while ago Stephen wrote <a href="http://berlin2007.blog.co.uk/2009/06/05/watch-out-kreuzberg-here-we-come-6241627/">a post</a> about our intention to try out lots of restaurants around the area where I live. Now let me tell you about my intention to avoid a couple.</p> <p><strong>No. 1: The Asian </strong><br> <em>Monday night, I go in to get some food to take out. </em><br> Asian dude: Oh, you the girl who live upstairs. We neighbours!<br> Me: Oh yeah, that's right.<br> AD: You sing in the house.<br> <em>Shit.</em><br> Me: Oh, sorry, I didn't think you could hear me.<br> AD: No no, you have nice voice.<br> <em>No I don't. Especially not when I'm singing at the top of my voice to some level my vocal chords can't reach.</em><br> AD: I new here. My dad owns this restaurant. I am his son. *smug smile*<br> Me: Oh, that's lovely. Great.<br> AD: You new here too?<br> Me: Kinda, I've been here five months.<br> AD: You from England?<br> Me: Yeah.<br> AD: How long to England?<br> Me: How long does it take to get there?<br> AD: Yeah yeah.<br> Me: About an hour and fourty minutes.<br> AD: By bus?<br> Me: No... by plane.<br> AD: Oh, and by bus?<br> Me: I don't know, I've only ever flown.<br> AD: And train?<br> Me: Again I don't know, planes are quick and cheap with Easyjet.<br> AD: *looks like he's thinking "what the hell is an Easyjet?"* Bus is cheaper. And train is nice.<br> Me: I bet it is.<br> AD: My friend here, we take train to England.<br> Me: Awesome, hope you enjoy it.<br> AD: You want to take this soup upstairs and bring the bowl down after?<br> Me: That'd be great.<br> AD: I take it to the door for you.<br> Me: Oh, you don't have to -<br> AD: No no, let me take it for you.<br> Me: Thank you so much.<br> AD: No problem. See you later girl from upstairs.<br> <em>Not only do I need to find another place to get my fix of Asian food, I also have to move.</em></p> <p><strong>No. 2: The Food Hut</strong><br> <em>About an hour ago.</em><br> Me: Pommes mit mayo, bitte.<br> Crazy Food Man: *says something in German*<br> Me: *pretends it's not directed at me*<br> CFM: *repeats it*<br> Me: Um, Ich kann kein Deutsch.<br> CFM: Oh, English?<br> Me: Yeah...<br> CFM: But you not from England?<br> <em>I give up.</em><br> Me: Yeah I am.<br> CFM: But not?<br> Me: Uh huh.<br> CFM: Not from Philippines?<br> <em>What the...?!</em><br> Me: Er, no...<br> CFM: But the colour!<br> <em>I'm not sure I want to eat these chips anymore. </em><br> Me: Yeah, I know, I look really Filipino.<br> CFM: You have problem?<br> Me: Me?<br> CFM: Yes, I have problem here *points to his back* And he do too *points to homeless looking dude* You?<br> Homeless looking dude: *waves*<br> Me: No, I don't have any problems.<br> CFM: Ahh, good. You good.<br> Me: I am.<br> CFM: No, I mean, you are good. Look. You look... good. Very lucky.<br> Me: Thanks, that's very kind of you.<br> CFM: *pervert smile* You're welcome. So you want ketchup, yes?<br> Me: Mayo please.<br> CFM: You live here?<br> <em>Oh Jesus.</em><br> Me: No, I'm here on holiday. About to leave.<br> CFM: Ahh yes, Berlin is very good. England have money. You lots of money. You come with family?<br> Me: Um, no, just a friend.<br> CFM: Ahhh, friend! Yeaaah, I know friend. *makes heart gesture, nods and winks* No?<br> Me: *nervous laughter*<br> <em>Really hope I don't catch crazy from these chips.</em><br> CFM: Ok my English girl, here chips for Madam.<br> Me: Dankeschön.<br> CFM: Come back! Bye bye!<br> <em>Not if I can find another road to walk through to get to my destination.</em></p> <p>As Austrian composer Franz von Suppè said, "You are crazy my child, you better go to Berlin!"</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/03/crazy-berlin-7301468/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>crazy-berlinhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/03/crazy-berlin-7301468/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/03/lazy-of-leisure-7298259/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-11-03:/2009/11/03/lazy-of-leisure-7298259/Tue, 03 Nov 2009 12:40:45 +0100 <p>Do you ever feel like being filthy and lazy? </p> <p>I'm looking for jobs and have already applied for about 15, so I am being proactive as always. But I'm also in pyjamas, only just brushed my teeth, my hair is a mess, and I intend to have lunch and waste some more time online before I shower and look/feel human. Feels great. Totally necessary every now and then. </p> <p>I need these periods of unemployment and silence to do some life analysis. I often need to remind myself that it's ok to slow down and that I don't want to have a heart attack and die before I'm 30. I enjoy these periods of time. Good things always emerge from my Lady-of-Leisure status.</p> <p>Of course I feel uncomfortable and it bothers me, but not enough to do something about it!</p> <p>Have a great day! <img src="/img/smilies/icon_mrgreen.gif" alt=":>>" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/03/lazy-of-leisure-7298259/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>lazy-of-leisurehttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/03/lazy-of-leisure-7298259/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/02/random-waffles-an-sm-special-7292738/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-11-02:/2009/11/02/random-waffles-an-sm-special-7292738/Mon, 02 Nov 2009 15:41:48 +0100 <p>Four years ago, on a boring afternoon, I started a blog. Two years later, I met a guy who worked for blog. Little did we know that two years after that, we'd hook up...</p> <p>S: *lights up candles and sits next to her watching a film*<br> M: *candles?* *wonders if he's hitting on her*</p> <p>S: Here, have my hat.<br> M: *realises, as she's walking, that she can't see a thing* I can't see anything.<br> S: *looks at her, the hat covering her eyes* Oh Jesus. *fixes hat*<br> M: Can I see now?<br> S: Yes you can.<br> M: *feels like kissing him, but doesn't*</p> <p>M: *accidentally sees his belly when he's taking off his t-shirt*<br> S: Good night.<br> M: Night. *lies on guest bed wondering if he wants to kiss her. She kinda wants to, but doesn't*</p> <p>S: *on the swings in the playground* I can't push myself.<br> M: I'll help you. *holds onto him and feels like kissing him, but doesn't*</p> <p>*sitting on a bench eating chocolate*<br> S: I have a strong desire to kiss you now.<br> M: Really?<br> S: Yeah.<br> ...<br> S: *laughs* <em>"Really?"</em><br> M: Well I just... wanted to make sure.</p> <p>S: What are you writing on me?<br> M: Nothing. How do you spell Spätzle? Are the dots on the A or the E?</p> <p>S: *blows her belly*<br> M: Arrrrggghhhhh *laughing in ticklish pain*<br> S: Blow her belly, it's fun.<br> M2: *blows belly* Oh God, the last time I did that was to my dog.</p> <p>M: My legs hurt and it's your fault.<br> S: How is it my fault?<br> M: You <em>made</em> me have sex with you all night. Tsk.<br> M2: Sixsie...<br> M: You told him?<br> S: *smirks*</p> <p>S: You don't happen to have those gummi bears on you, do you?<br> M: No, do you fancy them?<br> S: Yeah.<br> M: Have a cookie.<br> S: <em>Fuck</em> cookies.</p> <p>M: *in the pool* Come in, I'll hold you, people are weightless in the water.<br> S: *gets in and drowns*<br> M: Hmm, that's never happened before.</p> <p>S: I'll meet you by the big yellow Lego giraffe.</p> <p>M: Do you want some chips?<br> S: I always want chips.</p> <p>M: I've had enough of rom-coms, I'm gonna start watching more butch films.<br> S: So you're just gonna stop watching chick-flicks?<br> M: Yeah, there's not enough yippie-kah-yay-motherfucking-planes exploding in chick-flicks... It was a helicopter, wasn't it?<br> S: In the second one it was a plane.</p> <p>S: I'm really hornover.<br> M: You're <em>what</em>?<br> *hysterical laughter*</p> <p>M: *runs up* I was just biking past and thought it'd be rude not to come up and give you a kiss, so... *kisses him* Bye!</p> <p>M: Welcome back.<br> S: I missed you.</p> <p>M: I saw this and thought of you, so I bought it for you.<br> S: *looks at zombie monkey finger puppet* *laughs* Thanks!</p> <p>S: Welcome back.<br> M: I missed you.</p> <p>S: *outside the bathroom as she's being sick* Mon, can your hair reach your mouth?<br> M: No.<br> S: Alright then.<br> M: *opens the door to find him outside holding a towel to cover her up* </p> <p>M: I think it's sweet that you say I'm the hottest girl you know.<br> S: Well, I'm not paying you a compliment, I'm just stating a fact.<br> M: Awwww.<br> S: Oh shut up.</p> <p>S: *holding her*<br> M: Aren't I light?<br> S: No actually, you're quite heavy.<br> M: Really? But it looks so easy the way you're holding me.<br> S: Well, there aren't many people I could hold like this, but you're still heavy.</p> <p>M: Say 'goat'.<br> S: No.<br> M: Pleeeaaaase.<br> S: No!<br> M3: Why do you want him to say goat?<br> M: Cos it sounds cute in his Irish accent.<br> S: Yeah it's the same with a certain feline.<br> M: It doesn't sound funny when you say 'lion'.<br> S: No not lion, another feline.<br> M: Cheetah?<br> S: Slighter smaller...<br> M: Oh, cat! Cattt. Say cat!<br> S: No.</p> <p>M: Do you want a falafel?<br> S: No thanks.<br> M: You can have some of mine if you fancy some later.<br> S: If you can't finish it, I'll have some.<br> ...<br> S: How slowly are you eating that falafel?<br> M: Want some?<br> S: There's hardly any left.<br> M: Take a bite. A girly bite, not one of your manly bites.<br> S: A <em>girly</em> bite? Ok, I'll take a very dainty bite...<br> M: Wow, that <em>was</em> dainty. Here, have some more.<br> S: *eats falafel and her fingers*</p> <p>S: Why does it say on your profile that you're 23?<br> M: Because I'm 23?<br> S: You're 23? You're 24, aren't you?<br> M: No, I'm 23!<br> S: That means you were 22 before! Jesus!<br> M: *looks confused and unimpressed*<br> S: I should really know that, shouldn't I?<br> M: Yeah.</p> <p>M: Ooh, can I write something else?<br> S: Ok.<br> M: Hehe. Hehehe.<br> S: *looks in the mirror* I... hmm, N... what does it say?<br> M: Insert penis here.<br> S: Ha, that's pretty funny.</p> <p>M: *looks at his football jersey* Ha! Montella! Mon Nutella.</p> <p>S: Oh God, those eyes, stop looking at me with those puppy eyes, I can't do anything when you -<br> M: But look at the eyes Stephen, look at them.<br> S: Oh, for fuck's sake. *kisses her*<br> M: *giggles*</p> <p>M: *feels water on her bum*<br> S: *smiles*<br> M: Did you...?<br> S: Ass crack!</p> <p>S: Are you sure you're ok?<br> M: Yeah I'm fine.<br> S: Is that the type of fine that really means fine or the type of fine that's gonna come back and bite me in the ass?</p> <p>M: This cookie smells good. *puts cookie under his nose*<br> S: *eats cookie and her fingers*<br> M: *looks at him* *fishes the cookie back out*<br> S: You're not going to -<br> M: *eats the cookie*<br> S: Oh noooooo, that's sick! That's <em>sick</em>!<br> M: It's <em>my</em> cookie.</p> <p>M: Do you wanna go on a date with me on Tuesday?<br> S: I have plans for Tuesday.<br> M: Wednesday?<br> S: I'm teaching late. I'll check my schedule.<br> M: *fake cries* I just gave you a blow job and you don't wanna go on a date with me. *fake squeals*<br> S: Thursday! Thursday!<br> M: Great, pick me up at 8.</p> <p>M: *grabs another cookie*<br> S: What does it smell like?<br> M: *starts to move it towards him* ...Ah ha!<br> S: *grin*</p> <p>M: Ask for the big green pepper.<br> S: No.<br> M: Bitteeeee.<br> S: No!<br> M: Die groß grün Paprika bitte.<br> Kebab Guy: *washes pepper* Für Madam.<br> M: Danke schön!</p> <p>S: You look great today. *after food poisoning night*<br> M: I feel like shit.<br> S: But you look great. You should stay up puking all night more often.</p> <p>M: *opens eyes in the morning to find him sitting on the bed staring at her with a massive smile, still drunk from the party*<br> S: Whoah, you look skanky today.</p> <p>M: You were snoring like a motherfucker last night.<br> S: I'm sick!<br> M: I know, that's why I didn't hold your nose until you woke up...</p> <p>*watching a scene in a film where the guy starts dancing after hooking up with the girl*<br> S: That's true.<br> M: What is? The dancing?<br> S: Yep.<br> M: Do you do it?<br> S: Yep, I did it after I dropped you off at the airport in March.<br> M: Did you see blue birds too?<br> S: Yep.</p> <p>M: I love the smell of my new shower gel, smell me.<br> S: If I smell you I'm gonna want to have sex with you.<br> M: ...Smell me.</p> <p>M: Should we go in the other room?<br> S: I think she's in there.<br> M: Oh, then should we close the door?<br> S: *nods*</p> <p>M: *wakes up out of breath* *realises he was holding her nose*<br> S: *smiles* </p> <p>S: So when did you stop watching the film?<br> M: I don't know... but the part I saw was funny.<br> S: Yeah, the opening credits are hilarious.</p> <p>M: You know, you're one of the nicest and most thoughtful people I've ever met.<br> S: I'm a dick.<br> M: No, you're really nice and thoughtful.<br> S: I'm a dick.<br> M: Well dick, I wouldn't have you another other way.<br> S: Thanks.</p> <p>S: Does it still say 'insert penis here' above my bum?<br> M: Hmm, no, it's gone. Want me to write it again?<br> S: No thanks.</p> <p>S: Ooh, teeth. *rushes towards bathroom*<br> M: I'm gonna head out.<br> S: *turns around* *kisses her* See you later.<br> M: *smiles* Bye.</p> <p>xx</p> <p>(I hope I haven't misquoted you, Rampage. <img src="/img/smilies/icon_wink.gif" alt=";)" class="middle" border="0">) </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/02/random-waffles-an-sm-special-7292738/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>random-waffles-an-sm-specialhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/02/random-waffles-an-sm-special-7292738/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/01/weekend-waffles-7284809/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-11-01:/2009/11/01/weekend-waffles-7284809/Sun, 01 Nov 2009 11:51:54 +0100 <p>M: Mary Magdalene was shagging Jesus.<br> S: Mary Magdalene was Jesus' mother!<br> M: Obviously you haven't seen Jesus Christ Superstar.</p> <p>M: Urrrgh! Oh my God! *covers face with hands* ...What happened?<br> M2: Maybe you should watch the movie!</p> <p>M: I'm a hypocrite as in... Well, for example, I would advise all my friends not to hook up with someone they were just spending a weekend with. But I have done it before and I will do it again. I mean, I won't. Not while I'm with you. I mean... Let me think of another example.<br> S: Please do.</p> <p>M: I met Jared Leto.<br> M3: Oh my God! I hate you even more now!<br> M: He signed my arm and mentioned me in a interview for a magazine. I didn't wash for about a week.<br> M3: A week?! I would never wash again!<br> S: You still haven't given another example.</p> <p>K: We cooked, but it didn't work.</p> <p>K: There's a sex orgy in this film. It says so on the back of the cover.<br> T: A sex orgy? Like there are lots of other types of orgy. Oh look, it's all one word, too. Sexorgy. Sexorgy. What classification is this?<br> K: R18.<br> T: Oh my...<br> K: And that's saying something for Germany.</p> <p>K: Would you like a tattoo?<br> M: I'd love one!<br> K: You can choose between an arm, a leg, a whole skeleton, a -<br> M: Ooh, the little head!<br> M2: You mean a skull?<br> M: That's the one.</p> <p>M: I like the way we have communal Nutella.<br> M3: Yeah, it's like toilet paper!<br> M: And it's good for our self control, cos knowing somebody else will eat it makes us not stick our fingers in the jar.<br> M3: Exactly!<br> M: Just use a clean spoon every time you dip.</p> <p>M: So I was thinking about having some tea and biscuits, or beer in my case, and then hitting the gay museum because it seems like something nice to do on a Sunday afternoon.<br> L: The what museum?<br> M: The gay museum.<br> L: Oh, er, yeah... that's interesting.<br> ...<br> K: Are you gay?<br> M: No.<br> K: You're just curious?<br> M: Not really.<br> K: So why do you want to go?<br> M: It's a gay museum, what reasons could you have to <em>not</em> want to go?!<br> K: You're weird.</p> <p>M: There's some dressed up kids heading this way, don't answer the bell if it rings.<br> K: They've already rang.<br> M: Did you give them sweets?<br> K: No, we pretended we weren't in.<br> R: We had some at our place too.<br> M: Did <em>you</em> give them sweets?<br> R: No, we turned the lights off and pretended we weren't in.<br> A: Some kids rang our bell before.<br> M: Did you give them sweets?<br> A: No, we turned the lights off, stayed really quiet and pretended we weren't in.</p> <p>Have a great Sunday!</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/01/weekend-waffles-7284809/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>weekend-waffleshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/11/01/weekend-waffles-7284809/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/31/the-hangover-7281026/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-31:/2009/10/31/the-hangover-7281026/Sat, 31 Oct 2009 15:34:15 +0100 <p>Yesterday was my last day at work and it was also the Halloween party for the kids and parents. I ate copious amounts of cakes and sweets and was on a complete sugar high, as well as a natural high, for obvious reasons. Then I decided to have a beer a few hours later, skipping dinner altogether.</p> <p>Stephen and I had a gig to go to, so I thought I'd bike to his house so that we could go together. Fuck me, it was painfully freezing. When I got there, he was a liiiittle bit tipsy too. We danced, did a taste comparison between a Tyskie bought in Poland and one bought here, and drew little spiders on each other with a permanent marker. We decided to get the train instead of riding our bikes.</p> <p>On the way to the gig we stopped for food. He asked for something, and I told him to ask for the big chili pepper to go with it. He said no. So I did it myself... The guy must've found my German cute, cos he washed it and gave it to me. Or rather, gave it to him, so he could give it to me - that baffled me a little bit. I took a bite of it and we carried on walking.</p> <p>Soon after we arrived, I realised how strange holding a big green pepper was and people were asking about it, so I left it on the sink in the toilets, which, by the way, smelt really, really bad. The gig was great as usual, and I started to feel bad about leaving my pepper behind, so I took it back and put it in my bag.</p> <p>After a short wait for the train, we finally started to make our way home. We were one of <em>those</em> couples you hate to watch and made out rather shamelessly. I sang 'Hit me baby one more time' on the train, and he put out his hat to make me look like a busker (but to be honest I'm better at making out than singing). When we got off the train, I started dancing too. Then we both started singing in the street, and I used my pepper as a microphone. I then took another bite out of it, quickly and horrifically remembered where it had been, and started screaming that I had Aids, which attracted some weird looks. We walked in and I told my flatmate the same thing, which prompted her to switch off the TV and have an interesting conversation with us - as she usually does when we come in looking merry.</p> <p>We decided, at 2:30am, to return 33 bottles of beer to the shop to be recycled and get ourselves a refund, which we invested in more beer, of course. They stunk of vinegar, for some reason, and one of the guys who works there wasn't very amused. I then bought a falafel and straight after I said "no cucumbers please", the dude chucked a few pieces into it. Blergh.</p> <p>We got back home, drank our beers, had more in-depth conversations with my lovely flatmate and then, well, kept busy until dawn...</p> <p>It's funny how he's a quilt hogger and I'm a bed hogger (But to my defence I'm going after the quilt <del>1% of the time</del>. And to his defence he looks really cute when he makes a quilt sausage roll of himself), yet when we're really away with the fairies, we can share a pillow and wrap ourselves around a single quilt. </p> <p>This morning, after uttering those hungover grumbles and grunts, we finally got up at 12pm. And then went back to bed. But then we did get up for good and go for a mandatory kebab for lunch. </p> <p>I then went to pick up my bike, which I remembered last night - again in horror - that I had left it chained up by the frame (not the wheels) on a flimsy metal bar. Luckily nobody fancied stealing a pink bike with my name on it.</p> <p>I went for a bike ride to soak up some gorgeous sun. It really is an incredibly beautiful day today. Now I'm just sitting back and relaxing until it's time for the Halloween gathering later.</p> <p>This morning, I remembered that I had this in my freezer:</p> <p class="center"><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/sdc12758/4060343" title="SDC12758"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/343/4060343_42bab24f10_s.jpg" alt="SDC12758"></a></p> <p>Though I cannot, for the life of me, remember why on Earth I put it there. But I remember everything else... <img src="/img/smilies/icon_wink.gif" alt=";)" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>The other thing I have is a hand print on my arse. But that I can't, and won't, show you a picture of. </p> <p>See, hangovers are fun!</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/31/the-hangover-7281026/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>the-hangoverhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/31/the-hangover-7281026/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/28/distance-7264007/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-28:/2009/10/28/distance-7264007/Wed, 28 Oct 2009 20:44:51 +0100 <p>I used to find it weird that quite a few of my friends live in Liverpool and travel to Manchester for work. The idea of travelling such a long way to go to work everyday didn't seem very appealing to me. And then I decided not to move to London because I couldn't afford to live in actual London and didn't want to commute to work for hours everyday. But when I moved to Berlin, my opinions changed. </p> <p>I took this photo when I walked out of my workplace today:</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/sdc12716/4051958" title="SDC12716"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/958/4051958_98de9e367a_m.jpg" alt="SDC12716"></a></p> <p>And this one when I walked out of the train station, close to my house:</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/sdc12717/4051960" title="SDC12717"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/960/4051960_5276b5cca0_m.jpg" alt="SDC12717"></a></p> <p>That's rain, not snow. Yet. <img src="/img/smilies/icon_mrgreen.gif" alt=":>>" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>This city is huge and travelling hours to get to work is completely normal. Besides, you just have to go where the work is. Live and learn... live and learn.</p> <p>xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/28/distance-7264007/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>distancehttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/28/distance-7264007/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/28/poke-at-your-own-peril-7263190/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-28:/2009/10/28/poke-at-your-own-peril-7263190/Wed, 28 Oct 2009 18:47:11 +0100 <p>What annoys you the most?</p> <p>The thing that annoys me beyond comprehension, makes my skin crawl, makes me want to yell at the top of my voice and makes red smoke come out of my nostrils is condescendence. When somebody even just mildly suggests that I'm not intelligent, or that I can't do something, or that I'm not as good as somebody else, I go mental. This happened today. </p> <p>My colleague is putting all her efforts into making my life hell for my last few days at work - and she can try all she likes because I'm not going to let it rise to me as much as she wants to. That would give her pleasure, and I refuse to contribute to her happiness.</p> <p>I am many things I'm not proud of. Hypocritical, impatient and selfish with my possessions, for example. But stupid, I have never been. I always see past the obvious and straight to a more complicated version of any given sentence someone might say. Sometimes I come across as being a bit air headed because I don't know what people are on about, but that's because I'm thinking "can it really be that simple?" and trying to figure out what the point of it is. I find most people I meet too dull to become good friends with. I am judgemental and critical. There are very few people who can challenge me. Albeit, if you're reading this, you're probably none of those things and I do really like you. <img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>But stupid? Really? I moved to a country without speaking more than two words of its language in October and in the following May sat my exams and passed with better grades than most kids in my class. I had to start reading Macbeth straight away, even though I couldn't understand a thing and everybody else had been reading it for two months, and I got a B on my English literature exam. I got accepted into seven universities with unconditional offers - one of them being Oxford. I get bored far too quickly because I find most things too easy, so I'm always giving myself seemingly unachievable goals to keep myself entertained. I was three marks off a 1st on my degree. I was promoted to a managerial position two weeks after starting at the company I worked for before I moved here. When I want something, I work for it and I get it - it's not a matter of 'if', but 'when'. So if I ever make a silly remark, it's because I'm human, and indeed very silly at times, and I don't mind that nor am I ashamed of it. Ok, maybe sometimes. </p> <p>But, stupid! <em>Stupid</em>! <img src="/img/smilies/grayupset.gif" alt=":##" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>I'm sorry, this sounds totally egotistic, but I just had to let it out of my system. Besides, isn't that what blogs are for? <img src="/img/smilies/icon_wink.gif" alt=";)" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>Ahh, I feel better now. Kinda. </p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/28/poke-at-your-own-peril-7263190/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>poke-at-your-own-perilhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/28/poke-at-your-own-peril-7263190/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/27/krazygarten-7255090/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-27:/2009/10/27/krazygarten-7255090/Tue, 27 Oct 2009 19:01:13 +0100 <p>I have had the most insane conversations with the kiddies at work. Some of them may put me in a bad light, so before I share some with you, let me just reassure you that I do like children. I do. Love 'em. Just don't want to spend any time with them, for a very long time, after my last day at work on Friday. Unless they're clean and quiet.</p> <p>L: *shooting a kid with a gun made of Lego* Bang, bang, bang!<br> M: Hey! Don't shoot him, that's not nice. (The word 'naughty' has been forbidden by my boss, because apparently it's horrible to call children 'naughty' - says the German lady who doesn't speak English. But anyway, going off the point...) *puts hand in front of "gun"*<br> L: Neeeiiiin! Bang, bang, bang!<br> M: L, I told you, no shooting!<br> L: Bang bang!<br> M: *takes half the lego off him* Ah look, the ammo's gone, you can't shoot him anymore.<br> L: Waaaaah! Bang, bang!<br> M: I don't know how you're shooting him, you have no bullets.</p> <p>*all kids playing musical instruments*<br> M: Oooook, music time is over, there's more to come tomorrow my lovelies. Let's put those drums to rest!<br> S: M, they can play more if they want, it's early!<br> M: Do you want to stay here with them while I make the lunch?<br> S: *shocked face*<br> M: Didn't think so.</p> <p>M: Kids, pumpkins, sweethearts - listen!!! Hey, sunshine, listen. Listen to that.<br> *all kids stare*<br> M: Ahhh, do you hear that? You know what sound that is? ...Silence. Isn't it beautiful? Let's cherish it. </p> <p>D: Beh-gah!<br> M: Oh God. What?<br> D: Baggah!!<br> M: Whoah! You've just said bugger in the most cockney accent ever! Nice!</p> <p>O: Hammer time!<br> M: Did... Did you just say... <em>Hammer</em> time?<br> O: Yah! Hammer time!<br> M: Er, ok, sure. *starts singing and dancing Mc Hammer*</p> <p>S: Isn't the tree nice?<br> M: *utters the most feeble 'yeah'*<br> S: How can we make it nicer?<br> M: <del>By hanging the kids off it. By hanging the kids off it. By...</del> Flowers, maybe?</p> <p>M: Oh my God, there's a spider crawling down from a web!<br> S: Are you scared?<br> M: *analyzes spider* No, I'm trying to think of the best way to kill it.<br> S: What?! You can't -<br> M: *smack*</p> <p>P: M, he understands you.<br> M: Yeah.<br> P: But... but you're speaking English with him.<br> M: <del>It's a bilingual kindergarten. You've only just noticed that? Oh my God, am I???</del> Kids are so intelligent, it's beautiful to see - they can learn another new language so naturally! <del>And I thought yours was the most idiotic child I'd ever met. Kudos to him.</del></p> <p>S: What you just did was very dangerous.<br> M: I put the gloves on him!<br> S: Yes, and they're too big, he doesn't need gloves!<br> M: <del>His parents must hate him then. You're not the one who's gonna have to hear the kid crying 'cos he's cold.</del> Oh, I see. <em>Bad</em> gloves.</p> <p>D: Mah Mah.<br> M: Nope.<br> D: Moh Moh!<br> M: Close...<br> D: Moh. Nnnn!!!!<br> M: Aww, there you go!</p> <p>N: *crying while changing nappies*<br> M: Look, I don't know why you're crying. You just have to sit there and wait for the pretty lady to change your dirty nappy, and I have to actually touch your excretion, with gloves that don't even fit me properly, may I just add. If you think about it, if anybody should be crying here, it's me. So shush.</p> <p>T: *picks up <em>that</em> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/22/artlessness-7223900/">poetry book</a>*<br> M: Oh, great, my favourite book. Here we go again.</p> <p>Seven days down, three to go...</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/27/krazygarten-7255090/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>krazygartenhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/27/krazygarten-7255090/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/24/pukey-face-7234071/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-24:/2009/10/24/pukey-face-7234071/Sat, 24 Oct 2009 09:49:48 +0200 <p>I have a classy story to tell. So, I thought I was going to die last night. I honestly did, not even exaggerating. I had some grapes and mushrooms with toast for dinner and then made us all some green tea, we watched a film, then I left the party and went to sleep because I felt shattered. Less than an hour later, I felt really sick and threw everything up. It was not pleasant. Got back into bed, fell asleep again, then woke up feeling sick again to throw up some yellow liquid. Nice. Back into bed, fell asleep... woke up feeling sick again. My flatmate decided to give me some stuff to calm my stomach, which I threw up about an hour later, too. </p> <p>I thought maybe the gigantic grapes didn't like me, so my body tried to expel them, which was fair enough - I love how bodies are so clever. Problem is, there was nothing else to throw up, yet I still woke up and heaved, and heaved and heaved all night. I felt like my stomach was twisting itself and it was quite painful. My flatmate was freaking out and didn't know what to do with me. I didn't know what to do with myself. I felt like the exorcist girl. I felt cold, hot, sweaty, shaky, there was blood coming out of my nose and I could hardly breathe between the retching. </p> <p>At about 6am, after another bout, I came back to bed again feeling more exhausted than ever. And when I woke up this morning, surrounded by yellow patches of intestinal juice, I just felt lucky that my body seems to have fixed itself. But I'm scared of eating anything now...</p> <p>Any suggestions as to what might be a good thing to eat? I'm thinking turnip soup, since it's the only raw ingredient I have in my house, and soup would be easy enough to swallow. And will follow my friend's advice: "Maybe you should start eating normal things, and by that I mean, no Nutella."</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/24/pukey-face-7234071/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>pukey-facehttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/24/pukey-face-7234071/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/22/artlessness-7223900/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-22:/2009/10/22/artlessness-7223900/Thu, 22 Oct 2009 17:13:20 +0200 <p>So there I was, begging the heavens to give me patience and breathing deep as I prepared the kids for their nap. Job done, a few minutes to myself to shove some food down my throat and drink some scalding coffee, and the cleaning up process had to be started straight away. Just before I finished, some kids woke up, so I put the mop away and tried to stop them from crying. I decided to read them a book, and picked one called 'My First Rhymes', because I thought it would be nice to instil some poeticism into them.</p> <p>Two seconds later, I was a little disturbed by <del>my dirty mind</del> the content of this book. Here are a few samples:</p> <p><em>The owl and the pussycat went to sea<br> In a beautiful pea-green boat.<br> They took some honey, and plenty of money,<br> Wrapped up in a five pound note.<br> The owl looked up to the stars above,<br> And sang to a small guitar,<br> "O lovely pussy!<br> O pussy, my love<br> What a beautiful pussy you are.<br> You are, you are!<br> What a beautiful<br> Pussy you are!</em></p> <p><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong>****</p> <p><em>Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,<br> Eating her curds and whey.<br> There came a big spider,<br> Who sat down beside her,<br> And frightened Miss Muffet away.</em></p> <p><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong>****</p> <p><em>Jack and Jill went up the hill<br> To fetch a pail of water.<br> Jack fell down and broke his crown,<br> And Jill came tumbling after.</em></p> <p><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong>****</p> <p><em>Rub-a-dub-dub,<br> Three men in a tub,<br> And who do you think they be?</p> <p>The butcher, the baker,<br> The candlestick-maker,<br> Turn them out, knaves all three.</em></p> <p><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong><strong>*</strong>****</p> <p><em>There was a crooked man,<br> and he walked a crooked mile.<br> He found a crooked sixpence<br> against a crooked stile.</em></p> <p>Maybe I should be more worried about my extensive knowledge of filthy words.</p> <p>I love it when things aimed at kids entertain us adults, too! </p> <p>Four days down, six to go... on the bright side (here I go again...), I won't bite my nails, because I stopped putting my hands anywhere near my mouth the day I started changing nappies.</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/22/artlessness-7223900/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>artlessnesshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/22/artlessness-7223900/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/20/that-monica-s-show-7210755/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-20:/2009/10/20/that-monica-s-show-7210755/Tue, 20 Oct 2009 20:19:14 +0200 <p>Some quotes from the past few weeks:</p> <p>M: I've been taking flu antibiotics and my curtains keep spinning at the end of the night...<br> D: Does your medicine have a Smirnoff label on the side?</p> <p>D: My wrist was in a cast for 18 weeks, I'll never forget what the nurse said when I asked "will I need physio?"<br> M: Did she say "I'll massage you myself, rwaaar?"<br> D: Haha, no, young boys tend to do their own physio.</p> <p>M: No means no!<br> Baby: No *bitch* no.<br> M: Oh God. Means! Meee-nnn-sss.<br> B: *Bitch*.<br> M: Oh no, Jesus, please don't say that.<br> V: Jesus.</p> <p>R: I walked out of work today.<br> M: It's the UK, just say you had a headache and had to leave, or the swine flu or something!<br> R: Yeah I got swine flu... sorry I only just realised it 6 hours into my shift.</p> <p>M: Are you making chips?<br> F: Yeah! Don't they put vinegar in them in England?<br> M: Yeah, greasy chips with lots of salt and vinegar are the best. Disgusting, but the best.<br> F: Disgusting things are really tasty.</p> <p>C: Have you ever had any weird cravings?<br> M: Sushi with Nutella.<br> C & OC: Ewwwww!<br> M: Don't knock it til you've tried it.<br> C: Is that a British thing?<br> M: Yeah, sure.</p> <p>M: Hey, go on Skype!<br> D: But but but I'm a geek who hates seeing his pic on the net and talking, plus I look awful today. Do I sound like a girl?<br> M: Yes you do!</p> <p>M: I've just actually ran away from work and saw a road with your name!<br> L: Awww, did you take a photo for me?<br> M: Yeah!</p> <p>M: See you tonight! Oh, I bought bread. Oh, and please help yourself to Nutella... (three seconds later, pops back in) And I haven't stuck my finger in the jar, honestly!<br> F: It's ok, I trust you.<br> M: I used a spoon.<br> F: I know.</p> <p>MJ: Who was it who had a weird obsession with Nutella... was it you?<br> M: No...<br> S: It's her.</p> <p>B: Does this coat make me look like I have huge hips?<br> M: Yeah, it does...<br> B: Bugger. I like it so much.<br> M: Then take it, it looks good on you.<br> B: But I don't want men to think "phowah look at that really hot girl, shame about the huge hips".</p> <p>F: Hey, can I use some of your milk?<br> M: I have milk?<br> F: Yeah, milk and beer.<br> M: The beer would probably taste better with your cereal than that milk.</p> <p>M: Don't go in the kitchen, the neighbour is watching us watch her.<br> F: Why???<br> M: Because she's creepy.<br> F: No, why are you watching her?<br> M: Because she's really creepy!</p> <p>M: Can I borrow a book?<br> S: Yes, want me to recommend something?<br> M: Please.<br> S: *picks one*<br> M: "This is an extremely intelligent book"...?<br> S: Hmm maybe I shouldn't have recommended that to you.</p> <p>M: Have you ever dyed anyone's hair?<br> F: Yeah...<br> M: Will you dye mine?<br> F: Sure, are you gonna try real purple this time?<br> M: Nope, red. Elmo red.<br> F: <em>Elmo</em> red?</p> <p>K: I'm reading this great book about how to motivate yourself.<br> M: What's it called?<br> K: How to Motivate Yourself.</p> <p>My life is a comedy, and my lovely little protagonists are fabulous... <img src="/img/smilies/graysmilewinkgrin.gif" alt=";D" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon<br> xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/20/that-monica-s-show-7210755/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>that-monicas-showhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/20/that-monica-s-show-7210755/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/18/the-h-word-7194816/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-18:/2009/10/18/the-h-word-7194816/Sun, 18 Oct 2009 16:39:45 +0200 <p>Ladies, I have a question for you. What's the funniest, weirdest, most evil thing you've done while under the influence of hormones?</p> <p>The reason for the question is that I have always claimed that I don't suffer from PMT. Yet, I know I've been lying to myself. This week I've been too nice, too bitchy, too nice, too bitchy, too emotional, irritating as hell, and so anxious at times that I couldn't even sleep. Today I had Nutella for breakfast, I went to brunch and ate a lot of food, including cheesecake, strudel, creme brulee and apple tart for dessert, and three hours later I was hungry again, so I made mushroom risotto. But then there's the good things, like the bigger boobs and, erm, that's about it.</p> <p>Let's not forget to mention the poor victims of our hormones - mostly the men in our lives. Here's a classic conversation:</p> <p>Man: Your boobs look great.<br> Woman: Urgh, they're swollen.<br> Man: You're not pregnant, are you?!<br> Woman: Do I look pregnant to you???<br> Man: *finds shovel*<br> Woman: Huh???<br> Man: *keeps digging*</p> <p>I take it in light spirits, but I know other people don't. So, I wanna hear your stories. Entertain me. Let's all laugh about this. And if you're a man, let us hear your view on the matter.</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/18/the-h-word-7194816/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>the-h-wordhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/18/the-h-word-7194816/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/18/multirooted-7192291/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-18:/2009/10/18/multirooted-7192291/Sun, 18 Oct 2009 10:05:46 +0200 <p>Lately I've been thinking about how the places where I've lived have effected my personality. These are the places:</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/lisboa/4014296" title="Lisboa"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/296/4014296_54e3321010_m.jpg" alt="Lisboa"></a></p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/sjc/4014297" title="SJC"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/297/4014297_9ccabaa5d5_m.jpg" alt="SJC"></a></p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/liverpool/4014298" title="Liverpool"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/298/4014298_24ebba6a9b_m.jpg" alt="Liverpool"></a></p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/berlin/4014299" title="Berlin"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/299/4014299_5919ec35a4_m.jpg" alt="Berlin"></a></p> <p>I'm a person who loves bread, red wine, eating for three, family, the beach, farofa and brigadeiros, guitars, farms, incredulous heat, cosy nights in, mad nights out, live music, sunday roasts, chippie chips, drinking in the pub with friends, catching up with friends over a cappuccino in a little café, brunch on Sundays, lakes, house parties, getting home at 7am, lazy nights in with good company, apfelmus, living like every day is my last and appreaciating that I'm living my dream. </p> <p>I wonder if I would be the same person had my life been different. I like to think I wouldn't, and I like that.</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/18/multirooted-7192291/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>multirootedhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/18/multirooted-7192291/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/16/pda-7181322/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-16:/2009/10/16/pda-7181322/Fri, 16 Oct 2009 14:12:22 +0200 <p>One of today's pictures on a website I really like is about <a href="http://fuckyouverymuch.dk/post/214650969/we-kiss-in-public">kissing in public</a>. I've never made a secret of being a hypocrite, I don't like watching people getting it on and kissy couples make me heave; however, if I'm involved, it's not so bad. It depends on the place, of course, but usually I don't care who's watching. The picture reminded me of another couple I <del>am a part of </del> saw on a train a little while ago, and it was hilariously shameful, even though one of the parties doesn't quite remember just how affectionate he was, or how many people were watching in disgust (with the odd perv smiling and nodding in approval and encouragement for more). </p> <p>So, what's your view on public displays of affection?</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/16/pda-7181322/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>pdahttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/16/pda-7181322/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/16/the-wheels-on-my-head-go-round-and-round-7179902/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-16:/2009/10/16/the-wheels-on-my-head-go-round-and-round-7179902/Fri, 16 Oct 2009 10:04:16 +0200 <p>I was walking home this misty morning, breathing in much needed fresh air after spending the day yesterday feeding my lungs central heating, and started thinking about everything. Not just one thing in particular, but everything that could possibly cross my mind at the same time. I thought about what the hell I'm gonna do now that I've quit my job and haven't got another one yet. I thought about how annoying it is to have to pay for medicine when it's not your fault that you're sick and you pay a fortune a month for health insurance that should cover it. I walked past a lady with a dog and thought about how much I miss my dog and how much I wish he was here so that we could go for walks together. I saw a man sleeping on a doorstep and felt lucky for having always been privileged, and somewhat guilty for not being able to help him. I thought about what I was going to do today and got annoyed at my inability to just do nothing, and how much I miss trivial things like daytime TV in English and being able to take my pick at a book from my bookshelf, which was filled with girly goodness. I thought about how much I enjoy being in control of my own life and how completely out of my control it is at times. I thought about how frivolous life can be here, and as much as it was the break and breath of fresh air I needed and wanted, sometimes I miss having some sort of structure and substance. I thought about my Brazilian friends and how lazy my attempts to communicate with them have been lately. I thought about my sister and my best guy friend getting up to go to work, a daily routine they don't enjoy but put up with so that they can spend money on nice things at the end of the month just like most people in society. I thought about how I've never wanted to be one of those people and how hard I find it to accept that I will have to be one day, sooner or later. I thought some more and accepted that, but I know that it will be a challenge. I thought about how many different colours I was wearing now that I was out in daylight, and that purple and green look kinda cool together; then I remembered my mother teaching me the colour wheel, which was another test to her patience, as it ended up with me claiming that it was wrong and if I like it, it's a good combination, even if it's not. I thought about how much like my father I used to be and how many people I offended with my bluntness. And then about how I am slowing becoming my mother, a woman who loves people unconditionally, has the patience of a saint and is often willing to put others first in order to see them happy, something that comes naturally and makes her happy too, rather than being a compromise. I really did not see this coming; it scares me and pleases me in equal measure. I wondered how I went from keeping everything to myself and being told off by literally everyone in my life for not sharing my thoughts, instead brewing them up in my head and inevitably losing my temper, to being so outspoken I can hardly keep anything in my head, even the tiniest thing has to come out. I am aware of the consequences, but that doesn't seem to matter when my head is buzzing and my heart is pounding and I just have to say it. It is undeniably more annoying for me than it could possibly ever be to the people who are listening. I thought about my unusual lack of appetite but bought bread and had some with Nutella anyway, because I was bored. After all this, I went back to thinking about what I am going to do today, and decided that maybe a day in listening to the rain and watching happy films isn't such a bad idea, after all. </p> <p>All my love,</p> <p>Mon<br> x </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/16/the-wheels-on-my-head-go-round-and-round-7179902/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/16/the-wheels-on-my-head-go-round-and-round-7179902/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/15/baking-mad-7175795/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-15:/2009/10/15/baking-mad-7175795/Thu, 15 Oct 2009 16:42:42 +0200 <p>I know it sounds strange, but I like baking when I'm feeling a bit miffy. I don't like following recipes usually, I much prefer to come up with my own concoctions. The latest one is cappuccino and almond cake with Nutella topping:</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/sdc12540/4005991" title="SDC12540"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/991/4005991_f3c5fec372_m.jpg" alt="SDC12540"></a></p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/sdc12541/4005992" title="SDC12541"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/992/4005992_83f2a5d3d9_m.jpg" alt="SDC12541"></a></p> <p>The doctor told me to eat only hot food for now, so I better get to this slice before it goes cold... <img src="/img/smilies/icon_wink.gif" alt=";)" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/15/baking-mad-7175795/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>baking-madhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/15/baking-mad-7175795/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/15/the-one-where-monica-said-no-way-7174072/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-15:/2009/10/15/the-one-where-monica-said-no-way-7174072/Thu, 15 Oct 2009 12:15:19 +0200 <p>Have you seen what an allergy test looks like? I've just googled it to find out what I've got coming for me, and they can fuck right off, I ain't doing one. The lung tests look fine, just blowing into tubes really. But the allergy ones, nuh uh, no chance am I doing one. I've had a gigantic thick needle inserted in my neck and there was no way out of that, but there is a way out of this, and it involves me not going to the allergy place. So there.</p> <p>In fact, even though I know I can't eat chocolate without getting itchy rashes, I really, really feel like hot chocolate cake now. With hot chocolate, and chocolate sprinkles on top.</p> <p>And I've been told to only eat soup until Sunday, but I really fancy a hot curry. If you think about it, curry is almost liquid and it can have chili and ginger in, which the doctor recommended. </p> <p>I am full of reasoning today. The only thing I can't reason is why a dude at the bakery said I was the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, when I look like a zombie. </p> <p>Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and find good food to gain back the 2kg I've lost since Sunday. </p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/15/the-one-where-monica-said-no-way-7174072/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/15/the-one-where-monica-said-no-way-7174072/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/14/coughing-up-adrenalin-7167130/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-14:/2009/10/14/coughing-up-adrenalin-7167130/Wed, 14 Oct 2009 12:14:16 +0200 <p>Oh what a funky day I'm having. I'm enjoying it so far, so I thought I'd share it. First of all, I woke up at 6am as usual, with a horrible sore throat, got in the shower, nearly fell asleep and decided there and then, under my new jet of water which is ever so strongly soothing, that I couldn't and shouldn't make it to work. As I had no food in for breakfast, I went to the 24-hour supermarket and bought lots of yummy things, and baked a cake at 8am - as you do. I had two slices of it and decided that riding my bike to the doctor's was a good idea, especially because the sky was blue and it'd save me train fare.</p> <p>Oh, what a mistake. It was freaking cold and windy. I got to a roundabout and pondered; roundabouts are an uncoordinated person's worst nightmare and I've never successfully been in one, or rather got out of one, without the aid of a driving instructor (or my dad/mum urgently and manically grabbing the wheel to steer us in the right direction). For some reason I decided to learn by doing, with my bike. And right in the middle of the second turn, my bike chain twisted itself and made my pedals stop spinning. Perfect timing. But not as good as the timing that followed, i.e. the speed at which I got off the bike and dragged us to the pavement.</p> <p>I got to the doctor's (go me, I read a map and found a place I'd never been to before straight away! Woohoo!) and waited for an hour to be seen. The doctor finally called my name but said he had to give a few injections first, to which I replied 'no problem, just take those needles away from me', to which he laughed. I love it when I make Germans laugh. He thought I was crazy for having gone to work in this state and couldn't understand why my boss was so annoyed at me for staying off for a couple of days last week. He also tut at me for not having had an allergy test, because as soon as he hard me cough he asked what I was allergic to. Oops. Then I tut at myself for choosing the worst day not to wear a bra. He lifted up my top to hear my back and when he turned me around my boobs were right in front of his face. When I picked my clothes this morning I had another booby-staring-male in mind, but nevermind, he's a doctor and that didn't faze me. He sent me off to do a breathing test and the lady who did it couldn't speak English, so I had to speak German with her. I always love to find out how much I can actually understand and speak a new language, it makes me so happy. The lady asked for my height and I said I didn't know it in metric, so she looked at me, and put me down as 1.55cm. I snarled at her. Back in the doctor's office, he prescribed me drugs, more drugs and a referral to a lung specialist, which ever so luckily is on the road next to mine. Hurrah for living in a fabulous area! He asked how long I wanted a sick note for, and even though the words '3 weeks, 3 weeks, 3 weeks' (my last day at work - I'll tell you that story another time...) kept repeating in my head, I was a good girl and asked him what he thought was the best thing to do. He told me to take really good care of myself until Sunday and go back on Monday if I'm not better. He also told me to be energetic and do things, and go to bed early but not spend much time in bed. Funny, since energy and bed are two things that go <em>so</em> well together...</p> <p>When I walked out of the practice the sky had turned dark grey, so I thought I better ride home quickly. I've never ridden so fast in my life. It took me 35 minutes to get there and 7 to get back home. It was exhilarating! I love biking! I even biked on the road, it's better than pavements since it's less bumpy and there are less pedestrians to hit. The only fault with this adrenalin rush was that I didn't have a helmet and the air going into my lungs was freezing - but whoah! It was so much fun! </p> <p>Then I got home, made a gorgeous sandwich and I'm going to head back out to do alergy tests and lung tests, whatever that means. Am I scared? I'm petrified. But then again I already know that chocolate makes me itchy and rashy, so there can't be much that's worse than being allergic to chocolate.</p> <p>Hope you're having as interesting a day as me! But perhaps ever so slightly less, erm, eventful.</p> <p>Lots of love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/14/coughing-up-adrenalin-7167130/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>coughing-up-adrenalinhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/14/coughing-up-adrenalin-7167130/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/07/infatuation-7119610/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-07:/2009/10/07/infatuation-7119610/Wed, 07 Oct 2009 18:47:38 +0200 <p>Five months ago I fell in love. It was beautiful. I was leisurely walking and all of a sudden a rush of emotions came to surface, and I couldn't help but want the object of my desire there and then. I was so consumed by it I almost forgot to breathe for a second. </p> <p>But as we all know, love is painful, and soon I realised that it wasn't going to work. I was distraught as I walked away, and felt empty inside as it dawned on me that we would not be spending days and nights together.</p> <p>Today, however, something clicked. I decided to ignore reason, listen to my heart and just go for it. And oh, am I glad I did. </p> <p>Here it is, my new laptop table:</p> <p class="center"><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/sdc12396/3978032" title="SDC12396"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/032/3978032_4f5b6d2dec_m.jpg" alt="SDC12396"></a></p> <p>I'm not gonna say that it was easy; it took me quite a while to figure it out. It has already hurt me, as I put things together. But now I feel fulfilled, my irrational need to get it has been put to rest - even though the chase was interesting - and we shall share a house for many years to come.</p> <p><img src="/img/smilies/graysmilewinkgrin.gif" alt=";D" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/07/infatuation-7119610/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>infatuationhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/07/infatuation-7119610/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/flat-is-not-good-curves-are-7110467/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-06:/2009/10/06/flat-is-not-good-curves-are-7110467/Tue, 06 Oct 2009 14:07:25 +0200 <p>So today I woke up, got up, felt like I was gonna die and got back into bed. Normally us Portuguese people (or is it just my family?) don't go to the doctor's until we've actually died - and that's for an involuntary post-mortem - but this time I decided to go because I wanted to prevent it from getting worse. So I went, and was told to rest for two days, and go back on Thursday if I'm not feeling better to get some antibiotics.</p> <p>While I was there, I also thought I'd (when I say 'I' I mean my flatmate, because the doctor doesn't speak English) ask about my foot, which has been hurting since August, when I was jumping around with the kiddies at camp. So the doctor squeezed my foot here and there, then looked at it and said 'it's flat'. 'What did she say?', *flatmate gestures a flat road with her hand*, 'Deutsche Deutsche Deutsche orthopaedie Deutsche'. For ages I've been thinking that I have nice feet, they're not manky and my toe nails aren't horrible, so imagine my shock at hearing that a flat, non-manky foot is actually a <em>bad</em> thing. She referred me to an orthopedist, to get a shoe insole. It's gonna look hot with my stilettos.</p> <p>So, I already have curly hair, glasses, a blog, I ocassionaly snort when I burst out laughing, and now I'm gonna get shoe insoles. My geeky status just keeps getting better and better. No offense, fellow beloved geeks. <img src="/img/smilies/icon_wink.gif" alt=";)" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>After the doctor's, Milena, my flat foot and I went shopping for cosy jumpers and I left with five; and she bought me some tea that I don't know what it is but it tastes good and apparently it's good for colds. I also bought some <del>syphilis</del> physalis because they're incredibly healthy. And tonight I'm going to <del>have drinks with the girls cos I'm off work tomorrow</del> stay in cosy, drink hot chocolate and heal.</p> <p>I'm a wimp and I'm whiney when I'm sick. I'm gonna go whine at my flatmate some more and watch some German daytime TV.</p> <p>*blows nose*</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/flat-is-not-good-curves-are-7110467/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/flat-is-not-good-curves-are-7110467/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/1-is-there-anybody-you-just-wish-would-fall-off-7108473/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-06:/2009/10/06/1-is-there-anybody-you-just-wish-would-fall-off-7108473/Tue, 06 Oct 2009 08:42:32 +0200 <p>1. Is there anybody you just wish would fall off the planet? Kinda.</p> <p>2. How do you flush the toilet in public? With my elbow.</p> <p>3. Do you wear your seatbelt in the car? Always at the front, not always at the back.</p> <p>4. Do you have a crush on someone? Yes.</p> <p>5. Name one thing you worry about running out of. Hope.</p> <p>6. What famous person do you (or other people) think you resemble? Other people have told me I look like Eva Longoria, I fail to see it but thank them anyway.</p> <p>7. What is your favourite pizza topping? Cheese, mushrooms, sweetcorn, peppers.</p> <p>8. Do you crack your knuckles? No, it drives me nuts when people do.</p> <p>9. What song do you hate the most? Ones with filthy and offensive lyrics about women.</p> <p>10. Did just mentioning that song make it get stuck in your head? Can't think of one in particular right now.</p> <p>11. What are your super powers? I have magic kisses and cuddles.</p> <p>12. Peppermint or spearmint? Whatever.</p> <p>13.Where are your car keys? In Dreamland, with my driving license and my car.</p> <p>14. Last song you listened to? </p> <p>15. What's your most annoying habit? It used to be biting my nails, need to find a new one now!</p> <p>16 Where did you last go on vacation? Portugal.</p> <p>17. What is your best physical feature? I like my eyes.</p> <p>18. What CD is closest to you right now? I haven't got any here.</p> <p>19. What 3 things can always be found in your refrigerator? On the rare occasion when it's not empty, one might find jam, cherry tomatoes and a bottle of water in my fridge.</p> <p>20. What superstition do you believe/practice? I don't read old horoscopes cos apparently it brings bad luck.</p> <p>21. What colour are your bed sheets? White.</p> <p>22. Would you rather be a fish or a bird? A bird.</p> <p>23. Last thing you broke? My laptop.</p> <p>24. What are you having to eat tonight? Don't know yet, but I'm making red pepper and potato soup for munchies today.</p> <p>25. What colour shirt are you wearing? White pyjama top with red velvety Westies on it. <img src="/img/smilies/icon_lol.gif" alt=":DD" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>26. If you could be doing anything else today, what would you rather be doing? Sunbathing on a gorgeous beach, with a cocktail in hand.</p> <p>27. Do security cameras make you nervous? Nah they're funny, especially when you make out with someone and <em>then</em> see the security camera, which happens to transmit to a big TV at the front of the shop.</p> <p>28. If you wrote a book about your life, what would the title be? I am writing a book about my life, and I can't think of an apt title for it.</p> <p>29. Last time you went to a cemetery? Nine years ago.</p> <p>30. Last concert you went to? Oh God I can't remember, obviously it's been too long since I've been to one. <img src="/img/smilies/icon_sad.gif" alt=":(" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>31. Favourite musician(s)/bands you've seen in concert? I feel like the guy in High Fidelity; I always have a top 5 favourite songs and bands, but whenever I'm asked my mind goes blank. </p> <p>32. Next concert you're planning to attend? Ok that's my new mission, will get on it now...</p> <p>33. Do you talk to yourself? Yeah, but unfortunately I never listen to myself.</p> <p>34. Have you ever adopted or purchased a pet? Several hamsters and fish, and my baby, the love of my life, the apple of my eye, my fluffy puppy - Oliver.</p> <p>35. Have you ever been present when an animal is being born? No, I don't think I'd like to, either.</p> <p>x</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/1-is-there-anybody-you-just-wish-would-fall-off-7108473/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/1-is-there-anybody-you-just-wish-would-fall-off-7108473/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/it-s-cold-and-i-m-a-bit-meh-7108420/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-06:/2009/10/06/it-s-cold-and-i-m-a-bit-meh-7108420/Tue, 06 Oct 2009 08:31:19 +0200 <p>1. Who was your first love? A pretty blonde called Andrew.</p> <p>2. Who was your first kiss and when? A boy called Paulo, who had long blonde hair and looked like a surfer. I was 13, and it was behind the basketball court after school, and my friends were watching from the other side.</p> <p>3. Who was your first prom date? Mike. Sadly there probably won't be any more proms.</p> <p>4. Who was your first room mate? My sister, when I was 4. <img src="/img/smilies/icon_mrgreen.gif" alt=":>>" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>5. What was your first job, and how hold were you? Other than babysitting for friends when I was a kid myself, my first proper job was as an office junior in a law firm when I was 18.</p> <p>6. What was your first car? It was a black Fiesta, but my dad kept it for himself cos I didn't get my license...</p> <p>7. When did you go to your first funeral? When I was 14, it was my great-grandma's funeral, and I really didn't like it.</p> <p>8. How old were you when you first moved away from your hometown? 7.</p> <p>9. Who was your third grade teacher? A woman called Lourdes, she slapped me cos I was humming in class.</p> <p>10. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane? Italy.</p> <p>11. Where did you go for your first date and who was it with? Oh Jesus. I can't remember.</p> <p>12. When you snuck out of your house for the first time, who was it with? I don't think I've ever done that.</p> <p>13. Who was your first best friend and are you still friends with them? Vanessa and Monica, even though our friendship is different now, cos we haven't seen each other in nine years, I love them and miss them. </p> <p>14. Who was the first person to send you flowers? Andrew.</p> <p>15. Where did you live the first time you moved out of your parents house? Sefton Park - not bad for a first flat eh!</p> <p>16. Who is the first person you call when you have a bad day? Kalinda.</p> <p>17. Who's wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid or a groomsmen? At my mum's cousin's I was a flower girl with my cousin, and we <del>lost</del> misplaced the rings. But I'll be a bridesmaid at my friend's wedding next year.</p> <p>18. What was the first concert you went to? Hmmm, Reef, I think. </p> <p>x </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/it-s-cold-and-i-m-a-bit-meh-7108420/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/it-s-cold-and-i-m-a-bit-meh-7108420/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/02/and-the-tales-go-on-7085772/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-10-02:/2009/10/02/and-the-tales-go-on-7085772/Fri, 02 Oct 2009 17:05:15 +0200 <p>Last night I was all ready to go out and meet my friends for a drink, as we are trying to find nice bars for the winter since the beach bars are all closed now. We have also decided to switch from cold beers to red wine, a choice I am very much in favour of.</p> <p>However - ah, there's always a however - in the end I felt so crap and my mysteriously diseased toe hurt so much that I decided to stay put. If the Mon doesn't go to the drinks, the drinks go to the Mon, though... and after a few, it was 2am and we were still drinking, yes you guessed right, cold beers. </p> <p>By the time I got home and got to sleep, it was 3:30am. I had to get up at 6am to go to work. But I'm responsible, you see, so I did wake up at 6am. And when I woke up again, it was 6:45am so I just put clothes on (but before that I kicked a glass of water that was next to my bed), got ready in the dark so that I wouldn't wake up an ever so cosy looking Rampaging male at that ungodly hour and ran out of the door to catch my trains. Just missed the first one. Got on the wrong second train and realised it four stations later, as I as looking at the walls and thinking 'hum, this is a nice shade of green, wonder when they painted...' - run.</p> <p>Got to work on time, with a bright attitude, and the first thing my colleague said to me was 'You make party?'. Shit, was it that obvious? I know I had last night's make-up on and I didn't brush my hair, but... so I went to the bathroom, caught my reflection in the mirror, and started repeating blasphemy (i.e. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, and so on). </p> <p>Strangely enough, work was just as notorious as usual and I feel fine, taking into consideration that I've slept about three hours since 6am yesterday. The worst part is that I've caught the kindergarten lurgy, and would do anything to be home and to have my mother's soup right now. The closest thing to it is a Mustafa's kebab; it's comfort food, hot, smells as good as it tastes, has vegetables in it and makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and subsequently much, much better.</p> <p>Before and while eating my kebab, I got hit on by no less than four men - all disheveled, dirty bastard types. Clearly lack of sleep and grottiness make one look sexy and eating gigantic kebabs which are twice as big as one's mouth is the cherry on top of the cake.</p> <p>In other news, it's now Liverpool-winter-cold in Berlin and all my winter clothes are <em>in Liverpool</em>. This is hilarious, really.</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon x </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/02/and-the-tales-go-on-7085772/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>and-the-tales-go-onhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/10/02/and-the-tales-go-on-7085772/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/09/30/i-am-never-eat-with-my-fingers-again-7070264/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-09-30:/2009/09/30/i-am-never-eat-with-my-fingers-again-7070264/Wed, 30 Sep 2009 17:50:54 +0200 <p>That's not really true though, since I ate a kebab just a little while ago. Anyway, I will never forget today. Today, my friends, I changed my first nappy, ever. And it wasn't as bad as I was expecting - except for the smell, <em>that</em> was worse than I could have <em>ever</em> imagined.</p> <p>I also tried to quit my job but my boss talked me out of it.</p> <p>I heard a kid calling my name for the first time and it gave me a sense of pride. Another kid tries to call me Monica, but it always comes out 'man' in a Jamaican accent instead.</p> <p>I noticed a baby was up in the tree house and ran up to get her, but of course I didn't see how low the ceiling was and banged my head straight up on it, then asked the kid if I had blood on my head - she said 'yes' because that's all she knows how to say - and now have a painful bump on the top of my head.</p> <p>I hand-painted leaves (which I drew and cut out) with two one-and-a-half-year-olds and possibly made more of a mess with my hands than them. My colleague laughed at me and told me to go and wash my hands as if <em>I</em> was a kid too.</p> <p>I cleaned snotty noses about 60 times.</p> <p>I jumped up and down on a mattress holding hands with a kid as he yelled 'boing boing boing' with the happiest face I've ever seen. Right then I realised that things could be much worse.</p> <p>In less than 24 hours I've been called a perfectionist twice. I've been told that I'm always trying to make everything perfect and I'm not happy if things aren't. When I heard it for the second time, I nearly burst into tears. I don't even know why. I've <em>always</em> been told that I'm too much of a perfectionist, that I want to do everything all the time and put too much pressure on myself; and it upsets me when people see it as a flaw.</p> <p>The best news of today: my laptop is working properly again! Hurrah!!!! <img src="/img/smilies/icon_mrgreen.gif" alt=":>>" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/09/30/i-am-never-eat-with-my-fingers-again-7070264/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/09/30/i-am-never-eat-with-my-fingers-again-7070264/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/09/26/welcome-autumn-7044605/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-09-26:/2009/09/26/welcome-autumn-7044605/Sat, 26 Sep 2009 17:07:02 +0200 <p>Ok so we decided to have an Autumn party last night. Leah made lots of delicious food and we had so much booze there's even quite a lot left over, unopened, and the empty bottle stash is looking worse, or indeed more impressive (depending on which way you look at it) than ever. It was a great night, everyone dancing and talking and making merry... </p> <p>... and then the police came about 3am. And again five minutes later. And then they waited downstairs for everyone to leave.</p> <p>I don't know about you, but I'm quite proud, obviously it was a good party. <img src="/img/smilies/icon_mrgreen.gif" alt=":>>" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p>We'll host the Halloween do at another venue though.</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/09/26/welcome-autumn-7044605/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>welcome-autumnhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/09/26/welcome-autumn-7044605/#commentshttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/09/24/berlinnaversary-7033915/tag:diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk,2009-09-24:/2009/09/24/berlinnaversary-7033915/Thu, 24 Sep 2009 21:03:33 +0200 <p>It's <em>only</em> been <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/05/23/deutschland-here-i-come-6165546/">four months</a>. Four months! Let's see what I've done, shall we? </p> <p>I got a job as a support consultant and worked there for a month. I went to Hamburg and Bremen. I left the job and got another one as an English teacher, which I did for another month, and during which I went to Olympiastadion, a farm and the Baltic Sea. I got another job which I've been doing for a month (uh oh, let's overlook the obvious pattern...) as a kindergarten teacher. I've made lots of new friends, have gone on countless nights out and to a ridiculous amount of parties, and have made a <em>lot</em> of great memories. I've been on and off, on and off, and on again. I've had my hair cut <em>four</em> times - more than I used to have it cut in two years. I've read lots of books, seen all the Die Hard movies, the Jurassic Park movies and every chick flick in my local video store. I've tried all the Berlin beers I have seen and spent many afternoons in the park enjoying the sun with my friends. I lived on my own for seven weeks while my flatmate was away. I learnt how to ride a bike in the city (albeit still need to focus on avoiding pedestrians). I've had more kebabs from one place than anyone I know who's lived here for much longer than me, except Stephen of course. I've had many trips to the waxist and even made friends with them. I've learnt the names of all the stations, in order, on three train lines (and this coming from a girl who used to read maps upside down). I've learnt how to read maps! I've started to understand some conversations people are having in German...</p> <p>Let me stop and catch my breath!</p> <p>It's been crazy and exciting. I've never had such a wide range of feelings in such short time. And tomorrow, after I've spent the day looking after babies, I will dance at my party like nobody's watching, and will celebrate the end of Summer, and the beginning of another season, and the adventures that are to come.</p> <p>Prost!</p> <p>Love, </p> <p>Mon xx </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/09/24/berlinnaversary-7033915/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>berlinnaversaryhttp://diaryofwhatever.blog.co.uk/2009/09/24/berlinnaversary-7033915/#comments