There are some things that should not be allowed in films or on tv. For example:
--People who have something drop over their head and say "Who turned out the lights???" whilst stumbling about and knocking things over. Is it not obvious that you have a bucket on your head/duvet covering your body? And why are you so interested in WHO turned the lights off? Surely it would be better to shout "Turn the sodding lights back on you bastards!" It is not funny. It makes me want to smack people on the face.*
--People who are cast as being dippy but friendly scientists: they are always short, ever so slightly chubby, have large unstylish glasses and messy hair and, usually in American films, wear a checked shirt. Why, film-making-people, why do we have such a one-sided view of friendly scientists? They're either evil or dorky, and always scatterbrained. It's unfair representation of scientists and everyone will be very sorry when there are no scientists left anymore. Oh yes they will.
Ooh, creme egg mission. Be right back.
*Smacked on the face. I have a new shovelnose (Jodie Marsh) theory - maybe she really hasn't had plastic surgery. Maybe her nose is shaped like a pringles dipper because people kept smacking her on her face for being so fucking annoying and talking about sex without taking a breath for the past two years or so. Over time the shape of her nose gradually changed...flattened on the top from the repeated smacking. It is entirely possible.
ANNOYANCE AT PEOPLE! THE RETURN OF IRRATIONAL RAGE!!
Remember the cretin known only as 'Madam'? She's back. And I once again wanted to beat her to death for making STUPID STUPID COMMENTS. Right - some background information. I am 23 weeks pregnant (and, coincidentally, 23 years old): I have frighteningly large breasts (F cup**) and am developing a bump. I have an eating disorder (yes, I am mental) and am finding the changes in my body shape a little disconcerting to say the least. So.
Walking into the building at uni where our first lecture of the semester was to be held, I did not appreciate 'Madam' bouncing up to me and shouting "Ah wow, man, you've got mommy-boobs! How wicked is that!?" I know my desired response of "please fuck off. You are a moron" would have been relieving, but I have more self control than that so I settled for just looking at her. Well, really - is there an actual response to that statement?
**I found this a little startling. Even more startling was the shop assistant who demanded �86 in return for a small bag containing bras, pants and some socks. I do have some pretty bras now though. Like the one I'm wearing now: baby blue and black leapard(sp?) print with pink straps and some pink detailing. Very odd. Very pretty.
Mmm. Creme Egg.
I! Am! A! Proper! Housewife!
Well, I am today. Or I will be as soon as I've finished writing this diary entry and had a cup of tea. Yes.
Yes indeed. I shall shortly do the washing up and clean the downstairs of the house, INCLUDING VACUUMING (wow). I shall then remove the foodstuffs I purchased earlier and shall begin preparing the dinner I am cooking for Alex tonight. A meal that is being cooked from scratch, involving vegetables and tinfoil and things. I intend that this shall be ready for 7pm, roughly half an hour after Alex gets home...how good am I?
We'll just ignore the fact that I've done bugger all round the house recently, and that when Alex got home yesterday the only indication he had that I'd even got up was that I was fully clothed under the duvet and I had smudged make-up on. He won't complain though - I have the "I'm making a person, what have you done lately?" excuse.
IT'S A BEAUTIFUL, MAGICAL TIME...
Bollocks is it. If anyone else tells me that pregnancy is a beautiful time, I shall assume that they have never been pregnant or that they were smacked off their face (different to shovelnose "smacked on the face" theory) for the duration of their pregnancy.
Things that people don't mention when giving a happy-fluffy-cute rendition of the magical pregnancy experience:
--Frequent farting - evil farts that creep up from underneath the duvet brandishing medieval weapons and state of the art James Bond style spy kits.
--Increased vaginal discharge (especially uncomfortable when it's cold, like now. The other day I was walking down the street and I had a sudden onslaught of 'discharge', which then seemed to turn to ice in my underwear, causing me to walk like charlie chaplin until I could get home and clean myself)
--Sore boobs, itchy boobs, boobs of redness, boobs of amazing growth
--The irritating time when you are too big to wear normal clothes but not 'bumpy' enough to wear maternity clothes and therefore look scruffy in everything
--People commenting on your body/asking how much weight you've gained/paying compliments that have the opposite effect to what they intended (for example: Alex's mom with "at least your face is still slim". What?? So the rest of me is fat now?? Hmm??? I had the urge to beat her with something whilst bellowing "I'll have you know I'm still a UK size 8 round my hips! Dont judge me on the boobs and bump you old mare", but that would have been overreacting and could have caused family problems.
--Overreacting to everything, shouting at people and cats, random bouts of depression and laughing at things that aren't funny
--Constipation: I haven't had a proper poo in two weeks and I'm sure my insides must be all clogged up and disgusting
--Not being allowed to eat or drink lots of things. And your body reacting in unexpected ways to things you'd always been able to eat before (I can't eat cheese! Cheese!!! Cheese makes me ill! I can't have takeaway pizza! Oh, the humanity!!)
--Random tiredness at various points throughout the day, like a more friendly and less invasive version of narcolepsy
--A new one: painful ribs when sitting on uncomfortable chairs for too long. Weird and unexplained: it feels like my ribs have been squeezed by giant hands. God knows what that is.
--Permanently stuffed up nose
--Baby stamping on my bladder in the middle of debenhams and making me want to wet myself
--Baby kicking me in the stomach when I'm trying to eat a particularly yummy dessert, meaning that I have to stop and breathe for a while, prodding at my belly in the hope that baby will change positions while waiters hover menacingly wondering whether I'm finished or not***
--Crying at everything, even adverts
--Mental dreams (apparently caused by increased levels of progesterone) in which there is much violence and blood and death, which cause me to wake up in a blind panic almost every night
--And...just for fun...apparently I've got incontinence to look forward to as well!!!
It is a beautiful time. Seriously, feeling the baby having a kick makes up for it all: I'm not as ungrateful as I sound here. Really I'm not.
***I have now forgotten what this note was meant to be about. Hang on there while I go back and check. Thank you for your patience. Ah yes - waiters who hover (as in stand around waiting [as waiters are apt to do], not as in "floating a few feet above the floor"). I have the same primal reaction to this as I do to the cats when they start stalking me for food - it makes me want to eat very quickly whilst keeping one eye on the predator (waiter or cat). It took a long time to realise that the cats had ruined many meals by stalking menacingly, and it took even longer to realise that I could solve the problem by making the cats sit on the stairs. Maybe next time I'm cursed with a hovering waiter I could try "If you carry on doing that you'll have to sit outside. Ok? Go on, out you go."
Weirdest ever lectury type woman is taking us for the PRACTITIONERS OF DRAMA module (why does it need such a flouncy sounding name?? Why???). Today she did a weird weird exercise in which she got us all to take an item out of our bags. She then went around everyone and asked us to all tell a lie about our item. Then again, making a truthful statement. Then again, telling everyone how our item was related to world politics. What the fuck? Weirder still...she got incredibly excited when I told her my diary was related to world politics in as far as it is a key player in the fight towards racial equality. I don't know what this woman's on...but jesus christ I want some of it.
YET ANOTHER CRAP ADVERT OF GREATNESS.
A woman is walking down the street. A man picks up a glove from the ground and holds it out to her, saying "Excuse me, did you drop something?" The woman turns and smiles in a manner known only as flirty and responds with "yeah - a dress size!" She then swishes her hair and buggers off down the street, leaving a no doubt thoroughly bewildered man still holding her glove. Did she lose so much weight that her hand shrunk to the point that her old gloves fell off, rendering them useless? Did her brain shrink along with her waist? And why do we not see the reaction of the man? Or what happens next? Why?
This advert rivals the seagull of hope in its inadvertant stupidity. In the Seagull of Hope advert, lots of people are standing around outside, looking at pieces of paper labelled "CCJ" and "Final Reminder" and things of that nature. The sky is grey and bleak...bleak as their miserable financially unstable lives. Suddenly, a man looks up and his face is lit by a golden glow. He begins to smile and we see the glow moving down the street of bad credit. Cut to a shot of the sky, where we see A GLOWING SEAGULL swooping and diving in the clear blue between fluffy white clouds. Seagull of Hope - he will solve your financial problems.
Also, the loans advert where there's a bloke collecting rocks on a beach, trying to spell out "SOS". Now...these tiny rocks are supposed to represent all the different payments bearded man is having to make. He then takes out a loan to do the consolidation majiggy and we see him sitting aboard a big ship, shaven and sipping at a cocktail. But surely, if we were sticking to the rock metaphor, shouldn't the man be dragging the huge fuck off rock of his consolidated loan? Hmm. Ocean Finance, you are not being faithful to your metaphors. You are misleading. Besides, man on beach only needed to look to the sky, I'm certain the seagull of hope would have been there to help him out.
I'm rambling now..or as Led Zeppelin would say:
"I can't find my bluebird!
I'd listen to my bluebird sing but I can't find my blue bird
A-keep-a ramblin' baby..."
Damned awful when you can't find your bluebird and you have to ramble anyway. Led Zeppelin - singing about lifes biggest dilemmas.
Sorry, I really will bugger off, I just have to draw your attention to the 'lyrics freak' website. In the middle of the lyrics to 'Whole lotta love' they have inserted the line "various mumblings and screechings with cool effects"...I know that's an accurate description...but don't you wish that'd been an actual line in the song?
I'm rambling again now. I really will go. Or, to put it another way "I ain�t jokin� woman, I got to ramble."
God dammit woman, can't you see I'm trying to ramble here?