On Saturday night I announced that I would be cooking something sensible. Does a plate of new potatoes, green beans and gravy count as sensible? Or is it just a healthier manifestation of my extreme laziness?

I fear it may be laziness again. What the hell is wrong with me?

BIG PLANS, MY FRIEND. BIG PLANS INDEED.

Today I would very much like to:
-- Sweep up the leaves from outside the front of the house
-- Clean the kitchen
-- Sort out at least one box of crap from the cupboard under the stairs
-- Get at least a few thousand words drafted on at least one of the terrifiying uni things I've got on the go at the moment
-- Transcribe the episode of 'Never Mind the Buzzcocks' I recorded for my linguistics thing.

It's possible that I will actually achieve:
-- Arsing about on the internet
-- Reading a book
-- Making a sandwich

I have seriously got to get my arse in gear. It's just ridiculous how not bothered I am about doing things at the moment.

GIANT INFLATABLE BALL

Sing a song of joy and celebration! Sing it loudly! Wave your arms in the air (like you just don't care)! Get your lighters out (but keep them away from the ball)!

I! Have! The! Gym! Ball!

Oh, the excitement. The huge, collosal excitement.

I fell in love with the birthing balls at the antenatal class last week and, after trying one out for a few minutes, refused to get off it for the rest of the day and demanded that I wanted, nay, NEEDED one.

And now I have it. Alex spent an hour and a half last night blowing it up for me...but it was worth it. It was worth all the puffing and sweating. Not worth it for him, you understand. Worth it for me. I love the ball. I really, really love the giant inflatable ball.

Although, Alex has been coming up with new and interesting functions for the ball.

Firstly, we decided that the ball could be used for cat herding, in the style of 60's tv show 'The Prisoner'. The cats are terrified of the ball and I have a feeling that their fear may be due to subconsciously linking the huge silver ball with the white orbs used for social control in the crappy tv show. Poor cats. We locked the ball in the nursery and their noses did eventually go back to their normal colour (pale pink instead of red and throbbing, also known as 'DEFCON PINK' as Alex and I have renamed the cat-panic state).

In taking the ball upstairs to hide it from the cats, Alex figured out that it fits perfectly on top of the rails that run up the walls on either side of our stairs...meaning you can push the ball up there and then release it, resulting in the ball rolling back down at speed. Alex spent a good five minutes last night playing 'Indiana Jones' and terrifying the cats even further.

He's really quite mad. But he needs to be - I don't think I could be with a person who wasn't a tiny bit loopy.

AH SHITE...OH WELL...

Dammit, it appears to be raining. Well, that's the sweeping up the leaves task cancelled for the day. Well, unless I want to leave muddy tracks everywhere. Which I don't. I don't want the front of the house to look like a giant lake-dwelling creature (possibly Nessie, if he/she had felt like a trip to the midlands) has dragged itself into our back garden.

GREAT ADVERT.

The adverts for all bran are fantastic. Well, one advert in particular, which begins with:

People: "William Shatner!"
WS: (very pleased) "It's me!!"

I really like that.

TAKING THE PISS OUT OF BAD ADVERTS.

I've been told off for taking the piss out of adverts which are bad without being really bad (a la 'Seagull of Hope' badness). Like the Specsavers 'free trial on contact lenses' advert. (I have used the word advert too many times in the past few minutes. "Advert advert advert advert advert advert advert." The word no longer has any meaning). Yes. The young girl drags her boyfriend to meet her mum. Mum opens the door and girl says "Hi Mum" in a squeaky little voice with the fakest smile ever on her face. I suspect girl hates her mum. But that is beside the point.

I can't help but chirrup "Hi Mim!" every time this advert (there it is again, that nonsense word) comes on tv, and I think I may be starting to drive Alex a bit batty with it.

But I hate it. I hate it so much.

Almost as much as I hate the "Get a little closer" chewing gum adverts. They're horrible! They're ridiculous! Wrigley seem to be trying to suggest that curing the nation of halitosis will cause the whole population to become happy friendly tree-hugging hippies who will happily cuddle each other/play in strangers afros and generally embarrass themselves in public places! No! And besides - if a stranger offered you a stick of gum, would you possibly develop slight paranoia about your dental hygiene? I know I would. Ooh, check out the website - they're actually proud of the cheesy soundtrack too. "The original pop wonderstuff - Hanson". Oh God, Wrigleys, please shoot whoever is responsible for this stupid campaign and try to move on.

MY DAD FELT THE KICKING, AND HE WAS VERY MUCH PLEASED!!

I'M STILL IMPERSONATING BARRY WHITE...SURELY YOU CAN'T BE IMMUNE TO THE CHARMS OF BARRY WHITE? COME ON! HUG ME!


give Kate-Lee more *HUGS*Get hugs of your own