Goldie goldie goldie, bronzie bronzie bronzie

I got a fake tan. It is lush. I am all bronzed and goddessy (except, of course, the fact that I am not six foot, lithe and amazonian).

I do not get a lot of spray tans but was feeling short, fat, dumpy and pale so it seemed a good option, I have, however, had enough to know how the system works; you go in, the nice tan lady leaves, you strip off, put on the little black paper knickers, pop some moisturiser on your elbows, ankles and knees and then the lady comes back in and sprays you silly.

Except this time she did not give me any little black paper knickers and I forgot to ask. So I stripped off and suddenly found myself standing there, naked, unsure of what to do; should I put my own knickers back on (which would have been problematical as I hadn't come in any for the purpose of not smudging the tan when it was done), should I search for the black paper pants in the many beauty boxes in the room, should I just stand there, starkers, in the booth waiting?

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and I had no choice but to stand there in the altogether. I adopted a sort of casual 'yeah-I'm-nudey' pose for good measure.

Now, I am not a prude, I have no issue being in various stages of undress in front of beauty professionals, I mean they see it every day, but this was the first time I had every been fully nude and, lets just say that it was a bit disconcerting to stand there having a total all over spray tan.

Still my tuppence is lovely and brown now. Which serves no purpose but is nice.

ps it is my Steve's birthday today and he has a horrid cold and is feeling very sorry for himself. Tis awfully sad. Still he had Percy Pigs for breakfast so it isn't all bad. x

Because we are all friends here

I'll admit it, I am not ashamed.

I do not pee very often.

Indeed I am quite regularly compared to a camel; I once did a 15 hour flight to Canada without out visiting the bathroom.

The upside of this includes never having to go a million times before a car journey, never having to worry if there will be a loo in the shop/restaurant/bar and saving countless tens of minutes doing actual things.

But of course, there are downsides and one struck me yesterday evening when Steve and I had popped out for tea at a local restaurant we have visited many a time:

By not going to the bathroom I don't ever know what they are like in a particular place.

Are they nice? Am I missing out on lovely smelling hand creams? Do they have the uber scary Dyson hand dryers? Do they have some sort of some kind of new super amazing toilet thing that I don't even know about due to my lack of frequenting of public restrooms?

Tis a wonder.

ps incidentally, when in the US I obviously did have to go to the loo and discovered two things:

1) Americans are very against hand dryers. Indeed Bloomingdale's have recently removed theirs following a petition.

2) The flushes there are weird. They tend to be automatic; either when you stand up or, more disturbingly, just every 60 seconds or so which can be quite shocking if you are just innocently sitting there having enjoyed an awful lot of complimentary juice at brunch.

He should. You'd love it

Steve is, as always, watching and pondering the adverts. That annoying Bombardier commercial come on:

Steve: I wish I liked Bombardier. If I liked Bombardier then I would go into the pub and say, (putting on a pompous accent and specifically enunciating and emphasising his bilabials and fricatives), 'I'll have a pint of Bombardier'.

Me: If you did that then I would say, 'Fuck the fuck off'.

Steve: Fuck the fuck off? Maybe I should start my own blog to share with the world the vast depth of your incredibly educated self.

For I am a loser

Today I packed up my nummy cottage cheese salad lunch (seriously, it is actually good) and headed off to work.

I worked hard like a busy little bumble all morning, my lunch, sitting in the fridge for me, happily waiting until 12pm. But then I found that I got a free lunch as part of the event I was at so decided to leave my salad until tomorrow, I mean, it will be fine in the fridge won't it?

And I know it will except I keep thinking of it there, checking its little salad watch,

"It's much later than her normal lunch time... maybe she's running late today. I'll just wait."

And then a few hours later,

"Maybe she isn't hungry today, I'm sure she'll have me for tea."

And now...

"She still hasn't eaten me! What's wrong with me?!"

Oh salad! I am so sorry but I will eat you tomorrow, I promise!

If the fate of the world depended on it....

I make decisions all day long. Thinking on my feet and making instant choices is part of the PR package. I make decisions all evening; what to eat, where to go, what we are doing next week etc...

However there is one thing that I really struggle with, a decision I can never make and be satisfied with, a choice that I agonise over, stress over and just can't make without freaking out.

What colour to paint my nails.

Right now I am sitting here, base coat on both fingers and toes, with a bottle of pale silver (ideal colour but cheap brand I have never used before) and a bottle of crystal glitter (not quite ideal colour but best brand ever).

And I just don't know what to do.

x

ps tonight I had to trim the back of Steve's hair due to a clipper malfunction related emergency. This was tres nerve racking for me as I can't even blow dry hair properly. But I rocked it. Although he did stop me when I floated the idea of layers.

Two things...

1) Fondue is gooooooooooooooooooooooooood. I will now be investing in a fondue set and throwing fondue parties - but without the 70's bowl for keys obviously.

2) Steve hates the Halifax adverts so much (specifically the 'Yeah, yeah, yeah' one) that he has actually closed all his accounts there and moved them to a different bank.

Welcome to the mad world of Livy and Steve - the cheesey fondue flows freely but the cheesey ads do not.

And now he won't watch another film with me...

I may have been mentioned before that Steve and I have very different tastes when it comes to well, most things. Films are no exception.


He claims I am very annoying to watch a film with. Now, that is true. I tend to offer bits of random trivia about the film or actors while we watch.

Plus, if it is a film I am not that interested in but that Steve is intent on watching then I will often drift in and out, asking questions as I go as I have somehow lost what is actually happening.



OK, so this is Wishbone as Robin Hood, but I loved that show. It rocked.



This is what happened a few weeks ago when Steve wanted to watch the Russell Crowe (from here on known as Rusty) version of Robin Hood.

To start with I told him all about a cute interview I read with Rusty about how he showed his sons the film. Steve sighed a lot before purposefully pausing the film and staring at me.

Then I decided to read my book and therefore paid no attention to the film, when I looked up everything had changed and I got confused:

Me: Steve, who is Cate Blanchett in this?

Steve: (without moving his gaze from the tv) Maid Marion

Me: Really? But they just said she was fake married to Rusty! That doesn't happen until the end does it?

Steve:

Me: It definitely doesn't happen until the end usually, that is why they always do the whole 'I'll have an outlaw for an inlaw' thing.

Steve: (through gritted teeth) This is a prequel to the traditional story and therefore, as the whole thing is legend anyway, they have a slightly different take on it.

Me: Right....

Ten minutes later

Me: Is that Prince John? Is he meant to be having an affair with the woman who becomes his next wife, Isabella of Angoulême? If so then that is silly as in real life Isabella was only 12 when they married and John was 34! They would hardly be going at it like that before they even got married would they?!

Steve: (rubbing his temples) Like I said, it is a slightly different version of the legend..

Me: But that is historical fact - she was queen!

Five minutes later

Me: Steve! Who is the guy who is played by the man who was Keamy in Lost?

Steve: (breathing deeply) Little John.

Me: Is that the bear who sounds like Baloo from The Jungle Book in the other film?

Steve: (standing up defiantly) I am going to watch this in the bedroom....