A very short post today. Tom and I are hosting a New Year's Eve party this evening and in an attempt to turn myself into a domestic goddess, I have decided to bake a cake, make a salad, a batch of biscuits and my very popular, very famous chocolate meringues. But after a lunch yesterday with Deb where we spent much time making one another laugh at silly, meringue-related innuendo, what more inspiration did I need to post?
I've been making my meringues for the past few years and never have I received so many compliments on my cooking. At least, I assume it's my cooking.
Over the years of my making these chocolate meringues, much innuendo has been had. One former colleague described them as 'divine'. Another friend as 'delicious'. I'm sure you can see where both of those comments ended up being taken. These days, it seems that most of my conversations with Deb and Al tend to be peppered with phrases such as 'S.T.S' (Al's shorthand for 'So to Speak', often said slowly and slyly) and 'I bet you did' (also said slowly and slyly). No matter how innocent our conversations in content, there will always be one or two sentences wherein the meaning can be twisted to something smutty. And we love it.
Happy New Year, everyone! Celebrate safely and see you in 09.
Wednesday, 31 December 2008
Monday, 29 December 2008
Double happiness
Reading Andrew's post today, it made me recall a conversation I had with Andi not so long ago. Early on a Sunday morning - so early that it could still be considered late Saturday - the Nokia beeped with a message from her.
OMG! I just got hit on by a hot lesbian!!!!
The exclamation marks alone were enough to make me schedule a catch-up. It emerged that during the course of a dress-up pirates and wenches party, a friend of a friend had taken a shine to Andi and let her know about it, leaving Andi a little excited.
The woman in question was, in Andi's words, 'hot'. And really cool. And, er, a lesbian. This piqued my curiosity. To the best of my knowledge, Andi isn't interested in women.
We met for coffee and just to be sure, I asked her whether she liked women. She doesn't. And yet the fact that this particular woman fancied her seemed to excite Andi more than the interest of any man that I could recall in recent months.
Why? Well, it emerged that being considered good enough to be hit on by someone of the same gender was a massive compliment for Andi.
Not only do men find her attractive, but women do, too. That's got to be a good thing.
OMG! I just got hit on by a hot lesbian!!!!
The exclamation marks alone were enough to make me schedule a catch-up. It emerged that during the course of a dress-up pirates and wenches party, a friend of a friend had taken a shine to Andi and let her know about it, leaving Andi a little excited.
The woman in question was, in Andi's words, 'hot'. And really cool. And, er, a lesbian. This piqued my curiosity. To the best of my knowledge, Andi isn't interested in women.
We met for coffee and just to be sure, I asked her whether she liked women. She doesn't. And yet the fact that this particular woman fancied her seemed to excite Andi more than the interest of any man that I could recall in recent months.
Why? Well, it emerged that being considered good enough to be hit on by someone of the same gender was a massive compliment for Andi.
Not only do men find her attractive, but women do, too. That's got to be a good thing.
Wednesday, 24 December 2008
The Good Stuff
Home again so blogging again. Sickness can really be a blessing.
Recently, a girlfriend happened to mention to me that she had watched a 'really good porno' on the weekend. I was intrigued. Not because my friend watches porn - hello, I've lived in Europe where you watch it simply by virtue of turning on the tv after 10 pm - but that there was such a thing as a really good one. At least, as far as women are concerned.
I asked her, what makes a good porn film? Is it the script, the setting, the acting or the er, quality of the sex scenes?
All of the above, apparently. According to Ange, if you can get a storyline that makes sense, half-decent actors and sex scenes that add to the plot, you've got yourself a winner.
I never knew. Can anyone then tell me why 1 Night in Paris was such a hit?
Recently, a girlfriend happened to mention to me that she had watched a 'really good porno' on the weekend. I was intrigued. Not because my friend watches porn - hello, I've lived in Europe where you watch it simply by virtue of turning on the tv after 10 pm - but that there was such a thing as a really good one. At least, as far as women are concerned.
I asked her, what makes a good porn film? Is it the script, the setting, the acting or the er, quality of the sex scenes?
All of the above, apparently. According to Ange, if you can get a storyline that makes sense, half-decent actors and sex scenes that add to the plot, you've got yourself a winner.
I never knew. Can anyone then tell me why 1 Night in Paris was such a hit?
Tuesday, 23 December 2008
The things you do for love II
Right. A trip to the doctor this afternoon has confirmed that yes indeedy, I do have tonsillitis. I've had this bloody condition so often now I can self-diagnose. Move over Dr Phil, here comes Dr Diarist.
Further on the 'things you do for love' theme, Tom, knowing that I was suffering, came home from work during his break today to check up on me. Bearing chicken soup.
Everybody together now: Awwwwww.
Further on the 'things you do for love' theme, Tom, knowing that I was suffering, came home from work during his break today to check up on me. Bearing chicken soup.
Everybody together now: Awwwwww.
The things you do for love
Gah. Has been almost a month since I last posted. Where, oh where, has 2008 gone?
It's a wet and wintry Tuesday in Melbourne and I'm off sick today with suspected tonsillitis (oh yes, they work us right up to Christmas Eve in these here parts). It also so happens that I am house-sitting once more the house that I was looking after when Tom and I first got together, now over 6 months ago. Again I ask you, where has 2008 gone?
I can vividly recall sitting at this very same computer, agonising over whether or not to press 'send' on a Facebook message to Tom after our first farewell left me somewhat puzzled. I also recall Al, standing at my elbow, violently urging me to just do it. Thank goodness for bossy friends, eh?
But I digress. It's good to get back to blogging. I had intended to do so last week, but what with the imminent arrival of Christmas and my dear boyfriend deciding to turn 30 on the weekend, things just got away from me a bit. And here's where I get to the point of the post. (You were wondering when it would arrive, weren't you?).
After much nagging from yours truly, Tom organised a party at a lawn bowls club, followed by drinks at a bar. With approximately 50 people expected, including his family and my family, I knew it wasn't going to be the small affair he had described, so, in something completely out of character for me, offered to provide the food. Tom, being something of a dab hand in the kitchen, offered to help.
But there was a flaw in his plan. His best friend, Liam, turned 30 on Friday, so we all trekked down to the pub to toast his slide into middle age. Tom perhaps a little too much. By the time I wheeled him out of the pub at midnight he'd enjoyed several pints, a few shots and, for reasons still unexplained, a bottle of champagne.
Needless to say, he was a mess come Saturday, despite the fact that I had found him a very clever birthday card, the front of which simply said 'Cake and Kisses'. Tom struggled to eat breakfast before returning to bed whilst his domestically disabled girlfriend wore an apron and cooked her little heart out for SEVEN hours. Yes, 7. This comes as a surprise to most of those who know me - I do not, can not, cook. But cook I did.
50 cupcakes, baked, iced and decorated? I did it. Savoury slices? Done. Pecan crostini? Tick. Layered Dips? Yup. And on it goes. By the time 4 pm rolled around, Tom was feeling well enough to join me in the kitchen, where I made him cut up french sticks and say nice things to me.
When all's said and done though, I enjoyed the process. Sure, I did burst into tears at 4.30 when a cheeky Anna thought it would be funny to hide several cupcakes and tell me she'd eaten them all, but aside from that I was fine. It gave me a huge amount of satisfaction to see Tom enjoying his party and, incredibly - to see people eating my food. As in, food that I had made. And not get sick.
Quote of the evening, however, had to go to Anna. Taking plates of food around, I heard her telling several people the same thing.
'Yeah, MD made this... All of it... No, really, she did...
I've never seen her this domesticated. She must really love him.'
It's a wet and wintry Tuesday in Melbourne and I'm off sick today with suspected tonsillitis (oh yes, they work us right up to Christmas Eve in these here parts). It also so happens that I am house-sitting once more the house that I was looking after when Tom and I first got together, now over 6 months ago. Again I ask you, where has 2008 gone?
I can vividly recall sitting at this very same computer, agonising over whether or not to press 'send' on a Facebook message to Tom after our first farewell left me somewhat puzzled. I also recall Al, standing at my elbow, violently urging me to just do it. Thank goodness for bossy friends, eh?
But I digress. It's good to get back to blogging. I had intended to do so last week, but what with the imminent arrival of Christmas and my dear boyfriend deciding to turn 30 on the weekend, things just got away from me a bit. And here's where I get to the point of the post. (You were wondering when it would arrive, weren't you?).
After much nagging from yours truly, Tom organised a party at a lawn bowls club, followed by drinks at a bar. With approximately 50 people expected, including his family and my family, I knew it wasn't going to be the small affair he had described, so, in something completely out of character for me, offered to provide the food. Tom, being something of a dab hand in the kitchen, offered to help.
But there was a flaw in his plan. His best friend, Liam, turned 30 on Friday, so we all trekked down to the pub to toast his slide into middle age. Tom perhaps a little too much. By the time I wheeled him out of the pub at midnight he'd enjoyed several pints, a few shots and, for reasons still unexplained, a bottle of champagne.
Needless to say, he was a mess come Saturday, despite the fact that I had found him a very clever birthday card, the front of which simply said 'Cake and Kisses'. Tom struggled to eat breakfast before returning to bed whilst his domestically disabled girlfriend wore an apron and cooked her little heart out for SEVEN hours. Yes, 7. This comes as a surprise to most of those who know me - I do not, can not, cook. But cook I did.
50 cupcakes, baked, iced and decorated? I did it. Savoury slices? Done. Pecan crostini? Tick. Layered Dips? Yup. And on it goes. By the time 4 pm rolled around, Tom was feeling well enough to join me in the kitchen, where I made him cut up french sticks and say nice things to me.
When all's said and done though, I enjoyed the process. Sure, I did burst into tears at 4.30 when a cheeky Anna thought it would be funny to hide several cupcakes and tell me she'd eaten them all, but aside from that I was fine. It gave me a huge amount of satisfaction to see Tom enjoying his party and, incredibly - to see people eating my food. As in, food that I had made. And not get sick.
Quote of the evening, however, had to go to Anna. Taking plates of food around, I heard her telling several people the same thing.
'Yeah, MD made this... All of it... No, really, she did...
I've never seen her this domesticated. She must really love him.'
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