FAQ

What's up with you and the bunnies?
pygmy bunnies are super-cute, especially with the big eyes and the flopsy-forward ears. Also, I'm desirous of a pet, but I read Bridget Jones' Diary a while ago* and the thought of dying old and alone and being devoured by my cats/ dogs/ pet rocks became sort of a theme in my more obsessive moments** rabbits are a) vegetarians and b) mostly live in cages, so they don't get to live off my body. A horse would probably also be okay, but they're a bit big, aren't they? A teeny tiny horse, therefore, would be perfect.

What's the weirdest birthday present you ever received?
Mr Flinn sent me a full-frontal naked picture of a young Tony Danza. I'm now pretty convinced that He's the Boss. Tony Danza, I mean.

What's your natural hair colour, anyway?
Sort of a dark-blonde-to-light-golden-brown. It's unexciting, except that in sumer it used to go pretty light. But since I was 16 I've had red hair, auburn, champagne blonde, black, brunette, platinum blonde, and even a brief, accidental period of purple, which taught me the lesson: don't dye your hair in Israel. All of which has been way more fun than my "natural" hair colour, aside from the occasional need to remove all my hair.

Axl Rose: what's up with that?
I dunno. He used to be the epitome of bad-boy cool. Mind you, that as when I was about 11 or 12, but still, everyone that year had the bandanna or the sticker or the little Gn'R pendant/earring whatever. Then he got all weirdy, tubby, and...ginger. How do you suddenly become an eyebrowless Ginge? was he not blonde, most of the Cool years? How does it take ten years to record an album? Actually it's more like 15 at this point. Whether or not the album is good or not is somewhat moot: would people spend money on what is essentially a joke band at this point?

Mind you: people buy Michael learns to Rock***, Avril Lavigne, and Nickelback. Next question.

What's the longest English word in the world?
According to Wikipedia it's (deep breath, now) pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, a 45-letter word which refers to a lung disease contracted from the inhalation of very fine silicious particles, which just goes to show research scientists have as much of a sense of humour as the rest of us. When I was in junior school, however, I was taught that it was Floccinaucinihilipilification, the act of estimating something as worthless, which ironically enough, was what I was doing earlier with Nickelback. Think about it, very time you find yourself contemplating Urine...I mean Irene Bester, you're engaged in Floccinaucinihilipilification. Don't you feel more well-rounded and interesting already?

Why do you swear so much? And why is your blog so relatively sweariness-free?
I can't swear so much on my blog because I'd get blocked, or some shit. The kids read this stuff, you know what I'm saying? But swearing is fun, satisfying, and also it juxtaposes nicely with my cute, sometimes ladylike exterior. Belching loudly and being cynical are also hugely entertaining, especially if I can do all three at the same time.

Better yet: making up my own obscure cusswords. People are never sure how to react when you call them a bok-dancing monkeysmuggler. Or a pituitary-glandular Robespierre. They look at you funny, and that's the cue to feel smug and superior.

What are we having for dinner tonight?
I dunno, what are you cooking?

Don't be like that. I made Sashimi last time.
Yeah, sashimi is hard to make.

Biyatch.
dumbass. What kind of questions are these anyway?

* I'll never admit that again.
** All the time.
***he actually learned to suck.

Rampant Materialism, or Gimme! Gimme! Gimme

So, it's my birthday in 2 weeks. I'll be turning 30, which is sweet because it's a round number. Odd numbers always piss me off. Even numbers are better and round numbers are the best*. Anyway, birthdays aren't as cool when you're an adult because you don't wake up to a mountain of gifts**, which...well, it kinda sucks. And the worst part of it all is that you're not even supposed to want or care about gifts..you're supposed to be adult and above it all and all: "oh, don't spend your money, give it to charity or something".

Bugger that.

I'm acquisitive, see, and even though I'm not expecting the aforementioned MOG*** I'd like to assert my right to covet things. Lovely things. pretty things. Possibly ridiculous things. But things that, in general, I want. In no particular order, then, my top ten birthday list****.

1. Cool 70's-style retro wallpaper for putting on only one wall of my domicile. I like Mimir, Helena, Flapatos, Branch and Galatea in pink.
   
2. Katamari Damacy. And A PS2 to play it on. the console need not be a gift, lendage is fine. And if you can actually find it in this country I'll name my 17th cat after you*****
3. Clinique Dramatically Different Moisturiser, oil-free. I'm classy, me, and I have expensive skin to maintain. Well, ish.
   
4. Lots of designer vinyl toys from Toi-toy (Moofia! Dunny! Smokin Labbits!). Or a giant Gloomy Bear. I LOOOOVE GLOOMY BEAR! He rips open the bodyof his adopted owner because he's a godd*mned bear!!!!
5. Gingham Wedges! Because I love shoes, I love shoes, oh god how I love the shoes. A pair of all-black high-top Cons would also be more than okay.
6. Lots and lots of books. I hear in the olde tymes, the Pharoahs used to cover people who did good with gold until their bums no longer stuck out******. I would like someone to do this with books and my bum.
7. Pocky Mousse. Or Special Sakura KitKat. Because I can't get them here and they taste of yummy numminess.
8. A Polarising or Infrared lens to fit my Fz-50. I recently realised that it does actually have a thread so filters can be used: therefore this means there's a Hoya adapter out there with my name on it. Sexy sexy sexy infrared. Infra-RAD more like!
9. A teeny tiny tan or black pygmy bunny with big manga eyes and flopsy-forward ears. the ears must flopsy forward, not up, or back. Forward. I'm quite insistent on this point.
10. I'd like to wake up in the morning next to a mountain of gaudily-wrapped gifts. And a cake. with excessive frosting and Marzipan Roses. To be a kid again, and have the full complement of parents and grandparents, and not a care in the world except that I might get clothes instead of toys this year. Except clothes are awesome too! Clothes and toys. And clothes for toys.
    

So, I am done, my list is presented. And now my crisis of conscience: please don't actually get me any of these things, because I'll feel AWFUL. I don't like asking for things. it makes me feel tawdry....however..if you feel you must... suppose I'll have to live with it.

Tawdry.

*as in: 'round up to the nearest five/ ten"...see?
** when you're little it always at least seems like a mountain of gifts
***mountain Of Gifts, do I have to explain everything?
**** I may have been writing such lists since I was four. Or it may have been earlier.
***** I've already made promises about future children, dogs, hamsters and other assorted pets.
****** source: Asterix. It's a valid historical text, bizzatch!