In which I am shot down

Do you ever have days when life seems just a little bit cold and rubbish? Like everything is sort of grey rather than technicolour?

Yesterday was one of those days.

Me: Today was really hopeless, you know when there is no silver-lining?

S: I have those days too.

Me: (staring intently at the DFS advert which is currently on the tv) We should live more like the DFS advert people. Look, they are all happy on their sofas. See! They are drinking wine on theirs, and those two are playing cards in a jovial manner!

S: They are also fake sweetheart.

Me: They are not. They are real people!

Ten minutes later I am watching tv while pondering why I don't own the Gavin and Stacey Christmas special on dvd when a Michael Buble video comes on.

Me: S!! (Pointing enthusiastically at the tv) We should do things like this more! It would be so fun!

S: Dancing on cars while confetti falls down all around us with a load of other people?

Me: Yes! This is good! This is what we need to aim for. Crazy fun!

S: No.

Pondering teeth

I HATE that toothpaste advert that tells me that 40% of my teeth are actually between my teeth.

I also hate the toothpaste advert that tells me that 45% of my teeth are below my gums.

Which is true?

Surely both can't be. That would mean that I can only see 15% of my teeth which frankly is just stupid.

Which is it toothpaste people!?! Which is it?! WHICH IS IT!!!

My way makes more sense

Me: (Singing to Alexandra Burke’s song 'Bad Boys') 'The bad boys are always catching fly-ys'.

S: What are you singing?

Me: Bad Boys by that X Factor girl.

S: No, I get the song, the lyric?

Me: (Singing) 'The bad boys are always catching fly-ys'

S: It's 'my eye'. The bad boys are always catching her eye. Not flies.

Me: Na-uh! It's flies.

S: Why would the bad boys be catching flies baby?

Me: Because they are bad boys of course – you know, frogs. And frogs eat flies. And then when she kisses them then they will turn into princes aka good boys.

S: Seriously?

A little introspective for a Monday

I've been thinking, crazy I know but it happens on occasion, about pornography. I read an article recently on it and how it affects our moral compass. And this is what I took from it:

Persons who view pornography are often able to justify it with the argument that it hurts no one but themselves. Kind of like smoking, right? They may understand it's a dangerous, harmful thing for them, but feel that it's a victimless crime. (Obviously that argument wouldn't work as well for anyone who has a partner and/or has children. Families can be injured by addiction to pornography; intimacy can be affected. So let's go with it JUST being people who have no partners or children to hurt with their viewing of pornography.)

But there are victims. We all are the victims, women in particular. Supporting the porn industry facilitates the objectification of women and the demoralising of sex. By continuing to pump money into the pockets of porn-makers, consumers send the message that it's ok for women to be objects, to be degraded, to be used. That it's ok for physical intimacy to be cheapened and dirtied and exploited in a billion-dollar industry.

And that's not ok.

It has made me think about how I am doing this myself. Not with porn (in case you were wondering). But I'm not perfect. I watch and read plenty of things that degrade morality.

And even beyond issues of morality ... what other dangerous and wrong ideals am I perpetuating and supporting with my pound? What am I telling the world when I buy magazines full of digitally-altered 'perfect' women? When I listen to misogynistic hip-hop? When I click on blogs and websites with hateful content? When I shop at supermarkets that I know use huge farms where animals are abused? When I buy products made by companies whose international marketing practices are unethical? (I will quit Shreddies, I will. Swear.)

It's got me thinking, is all. As a consumer, I vote my conscience with my money, and I might not be doing a very good job of it.

As an aside, I attempted to find an image to go with this post. Which probably questions my morality even more.....

I am marrying this man

An advert for a new film entitled 'The Red Barron' came on the tv. Suddenly S, who was calmly supping a beer until this point, was enraged:

"Why would anyone go and see that film? I mean honestly, they have made the hero a German who bombs the hell out of us in the war! It's insane. The entire German nation, they tried to kill us in the war, they wear leather pants all day and not just for fun and they eat Bratwurst... like the worst brat."

He pauses.

"Do we have any cookies?"

Time to proof...

I type fast.

It is what I do and pretty integral to my job. So is it my fault that occasionally words get misspelled?

OK, so when my company was recognised for excellence by being awarded a Beacon Award, can you really blame me that the initial PR draft declared that we had won a Bacon Award? I mean, who wouldn't want one of those?

Or that today I nearly sent something out stating that we had raised lots of money for this year's Remembrance Day Poopy Appeal?

So not my fault. Blame my fingers.

My obsession continues to grow...

Last night I had a dream. A beautiful, beautiful dream.

I was in the TARDIS with the Doctor (in his Tennent form - YEEEEUM), Captain Jack and David Beckham.

Suddenly we realise that we are under Dalek attack.

Luckily I have a magic machine that allows me to knit a special wool that makes things invisible (obviously) so, quick as a flash, I knit the four of us large jumpers. Captain Jack (who has been hitting on me, it has to be said), says that his is too itchy. I say mine is way too hot and I insist we take them off. Unsure what to do next, David Beckham starts to panic.



So then I just make a massive pile of the wool and we hide behind it.

This doesn't work either as the Daleks just wheel themselves round the pile and see us.

At this point we are really despairing so I quickly knit some more and then shove the wool over the Daleks' eye stalks, making them blind. We all cheer and then walk calmly back to the TARDIS safely.

I suggest we celebrate and the others agree. We fly off and I question where we are going. They won't tell me.



Suddenly we land, we are at my house. They drop me off and thank me for my help. I am confused. What about the celebration, I ask.

They look awkwardly at each other, the Doctor replies,

'Well you're nice and all Liv but we're really more into different kinds of celebration.'

I suddenly notice that they are all holding hands. They wave and then disappear into the night sky.

I walk into my flat and watch a rerun of Only Fools and Horses.

I wake up.

Seriously, how low must my self esteem be to be rejected by three men in my own dream?

Doctor Livy

I have had a BRILLIANT idea regarding my last post - I marry David Tennant, he is rich thus removing the wedding expense issue and I LURVE him.

Perfect.

Now how do you think he will feel about speaking in his Doctor Who voice forever more....

Super cool Livy

OK so I have been really lame haven't I? It has been nearly THREE WEEKS since I posted. B-A-D. And you don't deserve it, I know.

So, to make amends, how was your Halloween? Good? Mine too. I was a bat. Of the flying variety in case you needed clarification.

The big things on my mind right now:

1) WEDDINGS - which, it turns out, are complex, expensive and a massive headache so I will not bore you but if anyone has a perfect not-too-olde-world-not-too-modern-must-have-the-wow-factor-and-has-enough-accommodation-for-all-guests-and-won't-make-me-live-on-only-soup-and-beans-for-the-year venue then I am ALL EARS. Alternatively, if anyone has a few thousand pounds that they don't want then it would be much appreciated.

No?

The second thing is DOCTOR WHO - yes, I am a loser but I don't care what you think because I love it. I am totally crushing on David Tennant but only when he is English (is that racist? I just don't fancy his Scottish voice, and before you ask, yes I can and do fancy voices, Alan Rickman - oh my hot old man!) wait, where was I? Doctor Who. The next nearly last one with his deliciousness as the Doctor is being shown this Sunday evening at 7pm (perfect, X Factor is at 8pm).

To say I am excited would be a massive understatement. I am like a drug addict who knows that I will soon get my next fix. I am salivating with the thought and keep re-remembering that it is only four days away and then smiling and clapping. I am getting many strange looks in my office today believe me.

Still, the heart wants what it wants.... and I want the Doctor. Now.