A cuddle in a dolls bottom!

I’m feeling very sorry for myself today, it was the works xmas do last night and whilst I should have been boozing and bopping away with the lads and lasses from the office I was in fact sitting on the sidelines drinking water and feeling rubbish… the drated cold that I thought I had shifted three weeks ago had returned with a vengence to ruin my night out.

I felt so bad this moring that I actually staggered down to the doctors – only to be told that I have a very icky chest infection and must dose myself up with antibiotics for the next five days… and yes, that does mean taking medication on xmas eve wonder if the antibios mix well with dry white wine!

So I am now back in the office feeling miserable but have found a way to smile though the sniffles… Last week work pals and I exchanged our xmas pressies – we’d each bought each other momiji dolls – cute little japanese dolls that have a slot (in their bum!) where the sender posts a secret message. My doll is called ‘giggles’ – they know me sooo well – and my message is this…

“I will not play tug ‘o’ war, I’d rather play hug ‘o’ war. Where everyone hugs instead of tugs, where everyone giggles and rolls on the rug. Where everyone kisses and everyone grins, and everyone cuddles and everyone wins.”

What better way to make yourself feel all warm and fuzzy than to read that a couple of times… thank god for good friends

Shoes… beautiful shoes

I’m newly and wonderfully, ecstatically in love… so much so that all my previous grumps have disappeared – no longer able to cast a shadow on my life because something all bright and sparkly and new has chased them away…

The object(s) of my affections - the most gorgeous pair of ruby satin party shoes (with sparkly heels no less) and they’re mine all mine…

As Imelda Marcos once said “They went into my closets looking for skeletons, but thank God, all they found were shoes, beautiful shoes”… wise woman

How the Grinch(es) ruined Christmas…

OK – I’ve had enough now… am soooooo sick and tired of grumpy ‘grinchey’ colleagues trying to steal my christmas cheer.

Girly pals and I are still frantically trying to organise last minute details for our work xmas do, its a time of chaotic activity but nevertheless should still be quite fun… However a couple of our colleagues seem to have been body-snatched by the grinch and are actively trying to drive us – previously festive and happily girlies – into an early grave with all their difficultness…

Guys, if you happen to be reading this then please do us all a favour and either give the grinch his personality back or don’t come!

wii wish you a merry christmas…

Am very, very excited, having just managed to get my darling boyf the most fabulous pressie for crimble! Even though they’re rarer than rocking horse poo I’ve just managed to order him a nintendo wii that will be delivered in time for xmas and I’ve not paid an over-inflated price for it, just the normal rrp. He’s going to be well happy – muchos brownie points for me I feel.

The best bit about it though is that I quite fancy having one of these in the house too… there is a distict appeal in being able to go home after a frustrating day at work and being able to thump seven shades out of things in the boxing ring – KERR POW!

And no… in case you’re wondering… darling boyf doesn’t read this blog – I know I’m bad at secrets but I’m not that bad

Daemon-ology?

Is it possible that our ‘real life’ pets could actually be our daemons? I don’t mean the evil, devil-hugging kind – even though I’m sure my two cats (pippin & merry) score pretty highly on the ‘naughty-little-bugger’ scale - but more the Phillip Pullman, His Dark Materials kind – minature versions of ourselves in furry form? 

After spending my birthday xmas shopping my darling boyf took me to see The Golden Compass and I’ve come away convinced that our 18-month-old cats are indeed our daemons. Pip – who is my ickle boy – has definate personality traits that seem to trace back almost directly to me. Whereas Merry, who is more of a ‘daddy’s boy’, is a miniature – and very furry – version of darling boyf.

Pip will sulk if ignored; wants everything his own way and is very, very temperamental. Merry is the most friendly of little things who will be your bestest pal as long as you feed him every other minute! In fact – where his stomach is concerned he’s a right little tart… feed him well and he’ll love you forever. A masculine trait if ever there was one

Coincidence… I prefer to believe in the magic!

Prezzies galore (fingers crossed!)

December is a decidedly fab month for prezzies… Obviously crimble is fast approaching (yippeeeeee) but as I write I’m getting immensely excited as today is also ‘birthday-eve’. 

I guess some people may think its a bit of a pain getting all your prezzies in one month but I love it. It gives me the perfect excuse to be excited for nearly the whole month… Something that - as a ’sophisticated 30-something gal’  - I wouldn’t be able to do if I only had xmas as an excuse.

I think my excitement at birthdays and all things presenty came as something of a shock to my new(ish) work colleague who had no idea that putting a birthday card on my desk first thing this morning would result in her being asked ‘can I open it yet?’ every half hour since 9am. Colleagues who have known me longer than a year are wise to this one now and generally give me my card as I’m leaving for the day! Actually I’m quite surprised that she seems surprised… I thought she knew me well enough by now… also her birthday is only two days after mine and I’m sure she’ll be just as bad come thursday!

Admittedly opening one of my presents then sneakily wrapping it up again and innocently smiling when the bearer of said gift told me not to open it till the morrow may have been taking it a tad too far

 Ah well, all’s fair in love and presents!

I can keep a secret… honest ;-)

I got very excited today at work, the secret santa names were pulled out of the hat and it made me feel all festive and full of anticipation of the approaching celebrations. It also made me realise though how embarrasingly childlike I become – as opposed to my normal sophisticatedness (is that a real word?) of course – in the run up to xmas.

Every single person in the office calmly took their names out of the hat, read them, some smiling secretively, and then just got back to work. Me… I giggled, jumped up and ran over to all my closest colleagues asking them who they had got and what they were buying…

And do you know what… no bugger would tell me! (Apart from Robyn – who by the very nature of her christmas-tastic name seemed to get just as excited – if not even more so – than me! Either that or she’s just as bad as me at keeping schtum!) Instead what I did get was a series of serious explanations about why its called ’secret’ santa.

Well ‘doh, I do know that its supposed to be secret, I wan’t going to tell anyone else… I just wanted to know for me – its all part of the excitment isn’t it?

Maybe I’m missing the point of the ’secret’ bit slightly, but bearing in mind my mum still has to hide my christmas presents away – even though I don’t live at home any more – I think I’m being quite restrained not actually telling the person I am buying for what I’m getting her…

Is it really the just the thought that counts?

Why, why, oh why are men so blinkin’ difficult to buy presents for? Its fast approaching the festive season – actually we’re in December now so I guess its already here – and I am facing the same old stuggle as last year, and the year before that, and the one before that… in fact the same one I face at this time every year. Just what to buy my darling boyf for crimble.

Usually by now I have some idea of what to buy, but this year I’m totally stumped, nothing seems to inspire and my creative juices have competely dried up. CDs – there’s nothing he wants; books – I couldn’t even begin to choose; clothes – I’m sure he needs more t-shirts and jumpers, not; DVDs – boring… and so the list goes on – or not as the case may be.

And is he helpful and sensitive to my dilema? Of course not, he just says there’s nothing he really wants. I’m sure he’s secretly enjoying my inner torment while all the time fully expecting me to come up with something wonderful right at the last moment.

Hmmm… maybe this year I’ll really surprise him and not come up with anything. Tell him that, as he told me he didn’t really want anything, I’ve taken him at his word… tell him that I really did think hard but couldn’t think of anything suitable but promise him that I did try really hard. After all, it is the thought that counts…

…maybe not, I don’t really want to be single for new year