It has been so long since I’ve been to the gym that my favourite trainer guy has left. I have an appointment on Sunday with some guy called Malcolm. I hope he isn’t scary.

I have a hair appointment on the 1st of June. This is good because I can get it done again right before I go to France at the end of July. Woo for not looking stupid when you feel insecure!

I’m reading the archive of xeney.com at the moment, and in one entry she was talking about songs and mentioned Simon & Garfunkel’s The Boxer. She happened to type the lyrics and my eyes didn’t believe it, so I went to independent confirmation. In the second verse I’d always heard:

Asking only workman’s wages, I come lookin for a job, but I get no offers
Just to come home from the wars on 7th avenue
I do declare there were times
?????
I took some comfort there

Which I admit doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I’m also quick to admit I don’t know the words to anything. Not completely 100% in any event. I’m happy to sing along with things even without the words, provided you make noises that sound right no one notices.That’s what my choir teacher told us to do if we were having trouble mastering the French [or German or Latin etc.] in a piece. Anyway, Beth’s entry said and I have had confirmed and I have re-listened and can hear it so the words are actually:

Asking only workman’s wages, I come lookin for a job, but I get no offers
Just a come on from the whores on 7th avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there

I’m not sure what to think of it. I’m surprised that my Mom let me listen to it. Once shortly after Boys for Pele [Tori!!] came out my Mom was in my room and Professional Widow came on, as some of you know it ends with the words, “give me love, peace and a hard cock”. I hadn’t heard that yet and I hadn’t read the booklet yet either, but my Mom heard it and told me I wasn’t to listen to the song again. I said okay to appease her, but I suspect we both know I had every intention of listening to it again and anything else Tori cared to release. And another time, I was listening to Fear by Toad the Wet Sprocket with her in the room and I skipped Hold Her Down and when she asked why I said because the f-word was in it, she then wanted to know how I knew, thinking quickly I said that Dad had told me [it was my Dad's CD]. She left it there.

Anyway, point is the woman has the hearing of a shark [so to speak]. So is a man getting whores more acceptable than a woman getting a hard cock? If my Mom and I had an open and honest relationship I could ask her, but we don’t.

New Linkin Park and Björk arrived today. If you ever look at a photo of the Björk’s Volta and think that the photo just looks like a solid picture you’d be wrong. The photo is a sticker holding the two parts together. I hope it doesn’t lose it’s stickiness or we’ll have one floppy CD. Linkin Park swear! I’m amazed. Fuck has shown up repeatedly in at least two songs so far! Exciting times. Also, I went for the fancy edition with the MVI CD and the book, they weren’t lying when they said book. I have a hardback novel sized book with CDs on the inside of both covers and the CD booklet is not just a booklet. We’re talking fancy. I haven’t listened to Björk yet and I’m only half way through LP, so I’ll hold off reviewing.

I spent another three hours in the garden startling snails this morning. Startled snails secrete something that looks like saliva with bubbles in. I could feel their anger. I also go creeped out by a recently opened sac of spiders. Anyway, since pictures speak 1000 words, behold:

I feel I ought to mention that the green parts left the gravel are not weeds, but rather two daffodils and some carrots. This whole back bit used to be a vegetable garden until the previous tenants didn’t keep it weed free, when it got overran the landlord just put down black fabric stuff and gravel.

The view from the house isn’t much better from the lower windows [top photo], but the upper windows tell another story:

The top left bit is that bit last Friday when I finished, the top right bit is today when I finished and the bottom one is up close. Even though overall there was less grass this time, it took me just as long because I weeded that bit by the fence, all the cracks in the pavement and I trimmed the hedge [not pictured].

Sadly, I still have a long way to go. I reckon I can get it all weed free in another 10 hours. Then I will spray weed killer over everything.

I need to trim the hedges properly, weed that back bit and the side bits, I’d like to get the wood chips we bought last year put down and of course I’ll need to mow the lawn once in a while.

I really ought to do some homework now, but I think I’ve earned a quick game of Settlers.

I’m eye-burningly tired. I have been for the last hour. This whole getting-back-into-my-life-after-four-months-off thing [or GBIMLAFM... which is clearly easier] is proving harder than I expected.

I hate being weak. I find it frustrating and I have these two battling voices.

Voice One says, “Cycle harder, don’t drop below 12 miles per hour.”
Voice Two says, “Come on, you haven’t ridden a bike in over a month, not properly anyway, staying above 11 miles per hour is fine.”

VO says, “Take the long 30-minute path home.”
VT says, “You just worked an 8.5 hour day, you’re knackered, why torture yourself? Take the dirt path home instead.”

VO: “What do you mean you’re going to waste another 10 minutes sitting under a towel with a bowl of hot water?”
VT: “I know steaming is boring and you hate doing it, but you know that it loosens things up and helps you feel better.”

VO: “Good idea, get back to a glass of V8 & Orange Juice and a bowl of Shredded Wheat for breakfast!”
VT: “I’m sure there are some Cinnamon Graham somewhere… oh and the very yummy date bar things Stoat gave you for your birthday! Have that! Breakfast of champions!”

VO: “You should do some homework.”
VT: “It’s okay to take your time with your school work and re-read the bits you’re having trouble with, one step at a time eh?”

VO: “You suck.”
VT: “You’ll get there, go team!”

I have to say, I hate them equally.

Happily, my shirts from Littlewoods arrived today! Sadly, two of them lied about being useful for people with big boobs. The other one is lovely. I’m waiting for the other order. Meanwhile, I’m going to have to keep shopping. I hate shopping. Actually, I might not hate shopping, Horatio and I are off to Leeds in the second weekend of June and Leeds is full of lovely shops I’ve always wanted to shop in, this could be nice.

I’m so tired and frustrated and desperate-to-be-normal-again [and if I'm honest somewhat hormonal] that I did something I’ve never done before: I shouted at Weasel and Horatio at the same time. Truly one for the record books. Happily, they both love me and issues were resolved and all is well again.

I chickened out, I’m not going to the gym tomorrow, I’m going to battle the garden some more and play on my exercise ball instead. I am going to call the gym though and book an appointment for next Wednesday so I cannot get out of it. I’m also going to call the hairdressers and get an appointment because my hair is much too long and much too not-red. I’m not going to call the dentist because I really don’t want to be told that I should probably get some nice surgery to get my wisdom teeth taken out. There is just no room on my jaw, we’re all full up. I can feel them growing, they showed up on the x-ray the ENT took and he said he thought some of my tooth pain could be their fault. If I am going to have any surgery in the next few months it’ll be to have my ear drained and the grommet fitted since I am very tired of being half deaf in one ear.

I forgot to mention some recent hilarity.

When I called my parents on Friday my Mom told me that I’d got a letter there. This is strange on its own since I haven’t lived there since September 1999. So my Mom opened it – I’ve been called for jury duty! From 4th-15th of June!

I’ve always wanted to be on a jury.

Sadly though, I simply cannot take more time off work, or get a plane ticket cheaply with that little amount of notice. If it was 4th-15th June 2008 I might have said yes.

She called them and explained that I hadn’t lived there for a number of years. The woman was confused as to why I was even on their list and my Mom said that I still enjoyed voting. So now my Mom writes a letter saying what’s what and they take me off the list.

I would have been an awesome juror.

Weasel and I worked very hard to get out of debt last year. We spent some time this year putting together a budget. One of the things in the budget is that we each get £100 to spend on whatever we want. This was good because it would get Weasel’s spending under control and encourage me to spend money. I managed to spend it all in January and £60 in February. I was so ill in March and April that I only spent £8 on a PS2 game I was too ill to play much anyway.

Anyway, when the end of April was upon us I got very upset, because as part of our budget we agreed that if you didn’t spend the money you could carry £50 over to the next month but after that it was just gone. I’d lost access to £290.

Weasel very kindly took mercy on me and said I could have £150 for May and June. So to that end, I had that disastrous shopping trip on Wednesday. I’ve spent the last few days trying to find clothes online, Weasel gets the Long Tall Sally catelogue and I hit upon the idea that tall people needed longer waists which is what I was after. I had the same problem there, the clothes were okay, but I didn’t love anything. I tried other ‘tall’ shops online, then I tried the plus sizes shops. I’m in a bit of a no-man’s land I’m at the top end of the ‘normal’ sizes and at the bottom end of the ‘plus’ sizes, so it can be hard to find things that look okay.

I ended up at Littlewoods in the end, they actually had a shirt I liked. Then I found three others and some night shirts too. Then I found another shirt I liked at Ulla Popken. Then I decided that I’d get Björk’s new album and while I was at it Linkin Park’s new one too!

I feel sort of light headed.

And shaky.

I also bought American Doll Posse for my sister earlier this week.

After watching Eurovision I fell in love with the Bulgarian’s [Stoian Iankulov and Elica Todorova or Stoyan Yankoulov and Elitsa Todorova depending on who you ask] and I want to buy their album from 2004 Drymboj [Drumboy]; but the only place that lists it [BulgarianCDs.com] doesn’t have any in stock, so I must wait. Meanwhile I found that I could download a nice MP3 of Voda [Water] from Stoyan’s website. I’m really not sure if I’ve missed their CD because the spelling changes depending on which language you’re coming from. So if anyone else finds it please let me know.

I may actually manage to spend it all this month!

I love the Eurovision Song Contest, I turned the TV on early so I wouldn’t miss the beginning so I got to see the tail end of the national lottery, the phrase “big money balls” caught my attention and my imagination. Anyway, I voted got Bulgaria; they were amazing, I have a thing for drums. My list:

1. Bulgaria
2. Serbia [very close second]
3. Slovenia and Georgia tied
4. Moldova
5. Finland

The UK’s entry was shameful at best, I was saddened by the very bad pun and the song seemed to have been written solely for Eurovision… and the ‘sexy’ flight safety instructions gave me the fear.

EDIT: Serbia were awesome, glad they won rather than second place: Ukraine – they were awful.

So you can see what I was on about; Bulgaria played the below, I’m so tracking down more:

Yesterday, I was determined to get some work done in the garden. Weasel had an appointment so she got up around 7 and I couldn’t get back to sleep after her alarm so I got up. I plotted by the phone waiting for 9 so I could call and be the first person to sing Happy Birthday to Horatio while still respecting his birthday right of sleeping in. After we spoke I headed out.

The weather was just right, partly cloudy so I didn’t get too hot and the rain from the previous day meant the ground was nice and soft and happy to give up the weeds. Since the bit I was doing was so very choked with weeds, I started at the entrance and worked my way to the far corner.

Now at that point, I could have simply done another row back in the other direction, but I decided to turn the corner and keep going.

When I got to the next corner, I did the same, again and again. The result? There’s a roughly three foot wide weed-free path around the outside edge of the gravel bit with an island of weeds in the middle [incidentally, Weasel commented that it sort of looked like the UK - minus Northern Ireland]. This is okay when you’re in the garden, you can see that my 3.5 hours of work was worth it, see the five bags that I filled with weeds. Sadly, from the house, all you can see is the UK island of weeds still left in the middle; it doesn’t look like I did anything:

Thankfully, I was so exhausted that I could enjoy the funny side of this instead of crying. I still have a long way to go:

Even the hanging baskets have weeds:

My garden hates me.

This morning at 6:45 I managed to knock some things off my bedside table, namely a music box that immediately started with Sunrise, Sunset I was trapped in my blankets and I lost a sock before I managed to rescue it [the box]. I was all befuddled because I was having a very intense dream where all of my cousins were gathered around discussing toys. I was doing an odd impression of a walking/barking dog my sister had. I got back into bed where my bladder suggested that while I was awake I might help it out. So I got up and the muscles that had been so rested during my four month illness felt the ‘benefit’ of gardening.

So now I haven’t had enough sleep and everything bar my stomach hurts. My hands are so sore I can’t grip very well and clapping while I watch the Eurovision Song Contest is impossible. Poor Weasel is still banned from lifting much of anything while she recovers and now I’ve managed to fuck up my hands, back and arms. We continue to make a sorry pair. Despite this I managed to make fancy bread from my bread machine recipe book that Weasel generously got me for my birthday, I present pesto bread: