AaaaaAaaaaRrrrrGgggghhhh!!!!!

Anyone who reads this blog on a fairly regular basis will know that I've been harping on about how great the weather is at the moment.

I'm so over that.

You know why? Because when the weather is nice I have to have all the windows open day and night, and when the windows are open insects, specifically spiders, see it as an open invitation to invade my personal space.

And I HATE spiders.

Right now, gentle reader, I am typing to you from the safety of my bedroom ... because there is a big, bloody, bastard of a spider in the living room.

And no, that's not a picture of it. If the spider in the living room looked like that I wouldn't be bothered at all, I might tell it to see a dentist and give it some style tips (Horizontal stripes? So unflattering on rounder shapes! And green and orange? Please! That's so 80's!) but it wouldn't scare me. The spider in the living room IS scary.

And please don't laugh and say "A little spider won't hurt you!" (people who say that are the only thing I hate more than spiders) I KNOW it won't hurt me, that's not the issue, the issue is that I have a phobia about spiders. And yes I KNOW it's irrational, but that's phobia's "thing". Right now, my phobia is nodding it's head and agreeing with me, saying, "Yup! I'm all about the irrational, baby".

And you haven't seen the spider in question.

It's BIG!

Well OK, not big compared to some; I have friends and relations in Australia who regularly get a kick out of sending me e-mails with titles like "Cute baby pics" and "Dogs do the funniest things!" ... except that when I open them I'm confronted with a picture of a goat sized spider chewing on a live chicken. At which point I scream, swear long and loud, delete the poxy e-mail and then fire off an angry reply to the bastard who sent it to me, severing all ties of blood or friendship forthwith. My cousin got married 2 years ago and I still haven't seen the wedding photos for precisely that reason. (You don't fool me with your "Gorgeous Wedding Pics!" title, missus!)

So I admit, compared to it's freakishly humongous Aussie cousins, the spider in the living room perhaps isn't much to write home about.

But it's big enough to freak me out.

Big enough for me to be able to see the vindictive glint in its eyes and the hairs on its legs ... it's probably in there right now, using my GHD straighteners, singing a chorus of "I Feel Pretty" to itself.

The next question is ... how to get rid of it?

I tried to get my mum to come round and get rid of it for me, but she refused!

(Tsk! 9.30pm isn't THAT late!)

I suggested that she would if she REALLY loved me, which she countered with the fact that she hasn't really loved me since 1996 when I stayed out all night, without permission, or telling her where I was, and since when she has had to regularly dye her hair.

Hmmm. There's some things you can't argue with.

So then I tried my best friend. I tried to lure her round with the promise of a chick-flick and a semi-decent bottle of wine, I was even cute enough not to mention my real motive. But not only did she refuse:

Friend: (suspiciously) What are you up to?

Me: (Adopting my most angelic, nun-like voice) What? I don't know what you mean! It would just be lovely to see you!

Friend: I saw you at lunchtime

Me: Well, I miss you already! I thought we could spend some quality time together!

Friend: You said at lunchtime that you were sick of the sight of me and that you hoped I fell down a hole (now in my defence, she was nagging me about the dating thing again at the time, she wants me to double date with her and her husband and some guy he works with. Bleh!)

Me: (pause, while I consider my options) And I feel just awful about it! Come round and let me make it up to you (clearly going for the suck-up option)

Friend: Bullsh*t! Tell me what you're up to and I'll think about it

Me: (all sulky 'n sh*t) Oh, fine! There's a big effin' spider in my front room and I want it removed before "Pushing Daisies" starts

Friend: (very long, incredulous pause) I don't believe you!

Me: What? You know I don't like spiders! And it's the last ever episode of Daisies!!!!

Friend: Er ... newsflash! Neither do I!

Me: Since when?

Friend: Since forever!!!!

Me: Send Alan over

Friend: Get your own man! Now if you went on that date ...

Me: (feigning sudden static on the line and a dodgy Chinese accent) Oh, sorry ... what's that? ... I can barely hear you ... aw, I better go, bye! Love you!

So back to the drawing board.

And "Pushing Daisies" is on in 20 minutes! Arghh!


Wait a minute! ... I have a cat! Cat's eat spiders. Right?

OK ... wait right here a minute.


(10 minutes pass)


FFS!

I'm back. And the spider is still in the living room. And I hate my cat.

I finally found her, she was sleeping under the bed. OK, she wasn't too happy to be woken up and dragged out and then pushed into the living room. When I peeped in a minute later she was just sitting in the middle of the floor, licking her bum. She tried to make a dash for the door when I opened it but I caught her and set her firmly back in the room.

Me: Get the spider! Lily, get the spider!

Cat: (look that said "You muppet!")

Me: Get it, Lily! Mmmm, nice tasty spider for Lillums!

Cat: (look that said "Lillums? God, how I despise you, you feeble minded dimwit!")

She didn't even seem to have seen the spider on the ceiling, so I moved nearer to it, pointing gingerly up at it to show the cat it's location (and yes, I know, how was the cat supposed to get the spider when it was on the ceiling, blah, blah ... my plan was to get the cat interested, knock the spider down with a stick and then let the cat catch it and eat it. Duh!)

Me: Look, Lily! Big, fat spider! Yummm!

The cat finally looked up, saw the spider, looked at me,

Cat: (look that said "What did your last slave die of? Exhaustion? Kill it yourself. I have a bowl of gently broiled Coley in the kitchen, your spider doesn't tempt me, foolish human")

At this point I lost it.

I ranted at the cat. I told it I'd had enough of it's superior, snooty behaviour, I was tired of it's constant mockery, not to mention it's total lack of contribution to the household! All I wanted it to do was kill a goddamned spider, but noooooo ... it wouldn't even do that! Effin' freeloading, fuzzy-butted, bitch-cat!

Cat: (look that said "Hahahahahaha")

I decided enough was enough. That spider was going down, my friends.

Right down the nozzle of the vacuum cleaner.

Except that by time I got it out of the cupboard, plugged it in, found the tubey, attachment thingy ... the spider was gone!

You know what the only thing more terrifying than having a big, eff-off spider in your living room is? It's having a big, eff-off spider in your living room and having absolutely zero clue where it actually is.

Yes. I got the hell out of there.

(I'm still in a cold sweat at the thought of it)

I may never use my living room again.

I might never feed the poxy, ingrate of a cat again.

I'm now having to watch the last ever episode of Daisies on the crappy little bedroom TV instead of the lovely, big widescreen in the living room.

And I've missed the first 20 minutes of it.

Sometimes life, spiders and cats are a bitch!

In which boredom strikes and our heroine gets into trouble ...

Last night I had an amusing gmail conversation with a blog-chum which lead to my confessing that I am in fact ... a phantom jelly biter.

Yes, you did read that correctly.

It's a "quirk" of mine ... which I think is quite amusing and even rather endearing in it's own way. Sometimes when I'm in the supermarket, doing the deadly dull grocery shopping, just to relieve some of the boredom, I like to take a packet of jelly (see pic) and just gently bite it.

Don't say "Urrrghh!" like that!

I don't break the plastic wrapping! I just bite it hard enough to leave teeth marks in the jelly.

The reason I do this stems back to when I was a child. I was at my friend Kim's house, we must have been about 5 or 6 years old at the time, and her mum was making a trifle. We were at the table, colouring or something and chattering away, when suddenly her mum said "Oh good grief! Who on earth would do THAT?".

Being curious, as all small children are, we asked what the matter was to which she replied "Somebody's been biting this jelly and then put it back on the shelf!"

Of course, we demanded that she show us the offending jelly, which she did. And she was right. The jelly was pocked with teeth marks.

We thought it was the most excellent thing we'd ever seen.

And we thought it was hilarious. Reasoning that anything that disgusted a grown-up must be a very good and cool thing indeed.

We decided that there was a phantom jelly biter, lurking in supermarkets, probably with a mask and a cape, just like Batman but instead of a bat on his chest he'd have a big letter "J" or even better a picture of a big jelly, like you get when you use one of those moulds! And he was our hero!

The next time we were in a supermarket together we remembered the phantom and managed to slip away from Kim's mum and made straight for the jelly. We eagerly scanned the packets, looking for the phantom jelly biter's mark. But they were all smooth and pristine.

We were horribly disappointed.

Then Kim said "We should bite the jelly"

I looked at her, unsure. It seemed like a terribly naughty thing to do when we wouldn't even be buying the jelly. "He can't bite all the jelly" she explained, in some exasperation at my denseness, "He's not magic, like Santa". For some reason this made total sense. The poor guy could probably use some help, we would be the phantom jelly biter's little helpers. That was pretty badass!

And that's how it started.

Whenever we had the opportunity we would sneak off in supermarkets and bite the packets of jelly, giggling helplessly and feeling terribly naughty and daring.

As we grew older it became more about the forbidden side. We didn't believe there was a phantom jelly biter any more ... we had BECOME the phantom jelly biter, and it seemed like the most hilarious thing to do as teenagers. We wanted to do it just because we knew adults wouldn't approve and therefore it felt rebellious.

By our late teens and early 20's it had just become an in-joke, a little quirk we fondly shared in remembrance of our lost childhood.

Kim stopped doing it when she got married and had children of her own. I remember being round at her house one evening, we were sharing a bottle of wine and some memories when the subject of the phantom jelly biter came up. We laughed so hard at the memory of all the surreptitious jelly-biting we'd done over the years:

Kim: Aw, I do kinda miss it

Me: Don't you do it any more then??

Kim: (laughing) No, of course not! I'm an adult now!

Me: (nervously) Oh

Kim: (long pause) You don't still do it ... do you?

Me: (forced laugh) Me? God, no! I mean, that would be totally childish!

Kim: (Thoughtful, suspicious look)

Me: More wine?

Kim also told me that she'd be horrified if her kids ever did anything like that and strictly forbade me to tell them about what their mother and "Auntie Kate" used to get up to. I didn't think it appropriate to argue with her ... but let me tell you, just as soon as those kids get old enough, "Auntie Kate" is going to take them for a trip to the supermarket that they will NEVER forget!

Some traditions simply need to be upheld.

The phantom jelly biter WILL live on in the next generation.

Anyway, I digress ... today I just happened to go to the supermarket.

(you know what's coming, don't you)

Yes, I remembered the conversation from last night and nostalgically bit some jelly, just for old times sake. It felt ridiculously good. I was giggling and smirking to myself, wishing Kim could see me, wishing even more that I could see the look of horror on Kim's face when ...

"Er ... Miss? What are you doing?"

I froze.

I couldn't believe it! I'd been caught! For best part of 23 years I'd been biting jelly, and not once had I been caught in the act! Why now? I'd been appropriately sneaky, hadn't I? I'd checked to make sure I was alone in the aisle ... where the hell had that shop manager come from?

"What are you doing?" the voice sounded mildly imperative but I was also satisfied to hear a hint of nervousness, this guy was determined to do his job but he was also going to be ready to make a sprint for it if mad jelly woman decided to go loco.

I turned round, my most winning, dazzling smile stretching across my face,

"Just checking!" I said brightly

Now I was looking at him I could see the fear in his eyes (and the spots on his chin ... why are so many supermarket managers spotty adolescents these days?), he looked kinda weedy, I'm a total girlie wuss but I felt confident that I could take this guy in an arm-wrestling match. It gave me new confidence.

"Checking for what?" he asked, licking his lips nervously and checking for the nearest exit out of the corner of his eye,

"Oh, just to make sure it's fresh. It gets a bit rubbery if it's stale" I bullsh*tted.

He clearly didn't buy it and attempted a mocking raise of one eyebrow which just made me want to laugh at him, "You're going to have to buy that, madam"

I considered him for a second, it was so tempting to give in to my mischievous inner child and refuse to buy the jelly, even though I'd just been biting it, but then my conscience whispered in my ear, sounding suspiciously like my mother; it told me I'd been in the wrong and to give in graciously and just buy the damned jelly! ... and furthermore that it served me right that it was an orange jelly (which I hate) and not a lime jelly (which I love) and that I should have thought of that before I started playing silly-buggers in the middle of the supermarket!

Sigh!

It's a lowering thought to know that I'll never be a really bad girl. If I was I would have just laughed, chucked the jelly at him and said "Catch this, spotty" and run off, giggling. Instead I admitted defeat and was practically frog-marched to a till where I had to buy the awful, teeth-marked orange jelly.

Although it did give me some small satisfaction to know that there were 3 other packets on the shelf that he clearly hadn't seen me biting.

Muahahaha!

Maybe I am a little bit naughty after all :P

Ansel Adams & Annie Leibovitz Have Nothing To Fear Here ...

Well I found the dl cable for my camera ... turns out there's a reason why it was stuffed in the back of the draw ... it doesn't work. Tsk!

So I've had to use my phone-cam, which is totally rubbish (as you'll see), the quality is a load of pants and it won't let me alter the brightness or zoom size ... I effin' hate technology!

But I promised I'd post some pics of the super-dooper prizes Diane and Dominica sent to me and I'm not one to go back on my promises ... unless it involves not eating somebody else's chocolate (sorry Mum ... you shouldn't have left it lying around like that ... in the fridge ... tucked behind the eggs ... and that big container of homemade soup)

First though, just for my lovely US BFF Lopez, here's a pic of my awesome handiwork from yesterday, yes it's the notorious curtain pole. Doesn't it look spiffing? (btw: the camera is at an angle, that's not how I put it up ... honest)



















Here's my cat, Lily, giving me a typically superior and snooty look ...




















And now some shots of the said awesome prizes, starting with the message on the postcard Dominica sent with her parcel to me (doesn't she have beautiful handwriting? you can tell she's artistic) ...



















Dominica's gifts came wrapped up in the sweetest little parcel of green tissue paper with a pretty orange ribbon and stick-on flower, it was so lovely I saved it. You can't see them very well from this crappy pic, but that's two little brooches in the middle, which I absolutely adore ...





















Here's the rest of the prize, super-lickalicious lollipops, Hello Kitty (which I'm SUCH a big fan of, I have t-shirts and underwear with it on) stick-on tattoos, a chocolate face mask and a cute little cut-out of a gnome! (lol I love stuff like that) and the trendy postcard Dominica sent me ...





















And now the parcel from Diane, here's the message in the little accompanying card that she sent me, she also has lovely, curly writing which I think shows her warm, fun-loving character ...




















Some tights in lovely summery colours, the footless blue and yellow ones will look fab with my denim mini skirts, plus the pretty little card from Diane ...




















Slippers and foxy leopard print pashmina that makes me want to go "Purrrrr" ... my mum has her eye on that pashmina ... I shall have to hide it in a cunning place (I think that's a finger or thumb in the bottom left corner ... see, that's why I hate taking pics, I'm hopeless) ...





















I can't wait for summer so that I can wear this groovy little vintage dress! (sorry, didn't realise my cargo's had got into the shot until it was too late and was too frustrated with my phone-cam to take another one) ...




















Here's the uber-silky, uber-sexy vintage Victoria's Secret's nightie ... this was my absolute fave item of them all, I just love beautiful lingerie and I cherish the thought that some guy's gonna get a lot of pleasure from this one day :P





















I can't begin to tell you how excited I was when I got my parcels and I must confess that there was more than a little childish squeaking going on as I opened them, so thank you again to my two blog-chums and style Goddesses, Diane and Dominica for all the cool stuff and the smiles that went with them :) xx