Monthly Archives: July 2004

Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce to you, Tatiana…

She’s a 20GB beauty full of class, style, and tunes. I’ve been spending the last few days getting to know her, and in that short time we’ve pinkie promised that we’ll never talk shit behind each others backs and always be the bestest friends for like, ever and ever, times ten.

(Yes, I know it’s weird to name my fucking iPod, but I’m also the person who names all of her computers after deceased pets. I’d like to thank Eric for giving her to me as an early birthday present.)

Last weekend I went to a friend’s wedding where the bride’s brother rocked up in a panda costume. After he hugged everyone present and took off the panda head, I inquired about the reason behind it all and it turned out that there was no “dress as a panda” printing error on his invite, and he wasn’t asked to entertain the large amounts of kiddies present while their parents got tipsy, his explanation as to why he was wearing a panda costume was simple…

He just felt like it.

[Update]

The panda lied! Today I was told the truth about the panda. Years ago, when they were both very little, my friend said to her brother (the panda) that she’d never get married and he promised to her that he’d come dressed as a panda if she did get married. The promise was kept, and he attended the wedding dressed as a panda.

I now know to never trust a bloody panda…

I sat on my mother’s bed, in between her files from work and a pile of clothes. We were chatting about my brother’s birthday (he turned 21 yesterday) and I was trying to fix the case which his birthday present, an expensive pen, lived in. She asked me what I was doing for my birthday…

Nikita: “I’m not sure, it falls on a Monday so there’s not much to do, and everyone will be at work. Maybe go to dinner or something.”
Mum: “No, it falls on a Sunday.”
Nikita: “What?”
Mum: “I checked on the calendar when I was at your grandmother’s today.”

She got up and hunted through her work files to find a calendar, “Yes, see it says here your birthday falls on a Sunday, Sunday the 1st of August.” she said with reassurance.

I looked at her trying to keep a straight face. You see, I wasn’t born on the 1st of August, I came into the world on the 2nd of August and it wasn’t like I was born at 12:01am. Oh no, I was born at a good 8:01pm, so no “but you were so close to being born on the first” excuse could be used. You’d think since she was like, an active participant and all, that she’d remember, but no.

Nikita: “I was born on the 2nd not the 1st mum.”
Mum: “Oh, really?”
Nikita: “Yes.”
Mum: “That’s weird, your grandmother and I could have sworn you were born on the 1st.”
Nikita: “Oh my god. You have seriously forgotten the day I was born. The shame!”

I got up, threw my arms in the air and walked out of her room muttering “oh my god” and “the shame” a few more times for comedic value. Over the last few days I’ve been bringing it up randomly in conversations, mainly for laughs, but also to make her remember that I wasn’t born on the bloody 1st ever again. The shame.

I was watching The Panel tonight (or should I say last night since it is 1am), where they showed a clip of Ashley Olsen being interviewed on Rove Live. Nothing odd about that, just one of the Olsen twins doing an interview. Well, not really. During the short interview, they counted how many times she said “you know” and it ended up being about 56 times. Fifty-bloody-six times. Which is a lot of you knowing (maybe we DON’T know).

The interesting thing was it started catching on, kind of like Ebola, but instead of blood being splattered everywhere it was you knowing that made its presence felt. Even Rove (the host of Rove Live) started saying “you know” and I also noticed that the folks on The Panel, who were laughing about the amount of you knowing going on, started saying “you know” shortly after watching the clip.

My friend used to do something similar, she’d say “right” a lot, and by a lot I mean to the point where I wanted to hurt her, in the most lovingly way possible of course. So I started saying “right” all the time… “Right… are we going now? Right, let’s go then. Right.”… you get the picture. When she inquired as to why I was doing this, I told her it was to show her how fucking annoying it can be. She stopped saying right soon afterwards.

I just thought I’d share that with you, you know.

I was once told dogs can understand over two dozen words, which got me thinking, what are some of the words that Harry understands? So I’ve put together a list of words Harry seems to recognise…

• Food – He’d personally love it if this was the only word I ever said.
• Mat – The thing I tell him to sit on when he’s bothering me while I’m trying to cook the above word.
• Walkies – Something we (myself and Harry) hardly ever do these day due to the fact he likes to walk me and dislocate my shoulder.
• Outside – The cold world. Outside is somewhere he’d rather not be.
• Couch – The warm world. A place he’d like to never move from.
• Gwammy – My grandmother. The person who brings him yummy treats and me warm hand-knitted scarfs.
• Din-din – That fantastic time of the day when he gets food, streamers fall, balloons appear and the whole world has a parade at this time of day. It’s din-din time.
• Stinky – His nickname.
• Cat – That thing that gets to sleep on couch and seems to be given food 50 times a day. To be avoided at all cost. Has sharp claws that have been known to nearly take out an eye.
• Wheres-ya-ball – Said very quickly to hype him up. A ball hunt begins shortly after this word is said.
• Boozy – His other nickname, normally said whenever he does that “I didn’t do it” face.
• Bath – Something that is hardly ever done, as he is not fond of baths.

I’d like to note that there is no ‘sit, stay, heel’ or any other normal doggy words in there, he understands them alright, he just doesn’t want to do them, especially the ‘heel’ one. When I have a moment of insanity, forget the past shoulder injuries, and we do go on ‘walkies’, he seems to think ‘heel’ means “Yes, go piss on that tree, and that lamppost, and that other tree, and that letter box… Hell, piss on everything if you please.”

Dear lower back,

Hello, how are you today? We’re having some really cold weather lately, aren’t we…?

Ok, let me get straight to the point. I know that I’ve royally fucked you up in the past by falling on you and such, and that it’s taken me a while to sort out what was wrong with you, but do you have to keep telling me about it? The chest pains a few months ago, middle back pains for the past few weeks and the headaches this week are truthful not needed. I get it.

I’ve been trying to get you fixed too, attending physiotherapy sessions and even letting friends do strange healing on you, but all you can do is complain. There’s no “thanks mate”, no sign at all that you notice, just sharp stabbing pains. All I ask for is a nice warm feeling, just to show that you care.

Anyway, I don’t understand why you’re being like this, we’ve been together for nearly 20 years this August, I’ve always treated you well by bending at the knee’s when lifting and putting heat packs on you during cold nights. Maybe you’ve forgotten about all that. It seems to me that you’re being very selfish, all the other parts of my body totally agree, even the feet. You might have noticed that the hands have completely ignored you over the past few months, they’ve had it with you, and some of the major organs are pretty close to doing the same thing.

You, my dear back, can be a total wanker some days. If you want to be like this, fine, but remember I can always take some pain killers to shut you up, even if they do make me forget my shoes and see creatures that look like water bottles during the night. I’ll so do it!

Listen, cut the crap or I’ll get a new back on eBay!

Love always,
Nikita