Also through Alsion:
US Department of health proposes to define contraception as abortion.

Er... Well, I guess it's good news for Durex. Unless that won't be allowed anymore either. Because, you know, you're preventing possible life!

"So this bandage, it's just for show then"

Yes... My dear co-worker, you're right. I didn't really fall down the stairs. No. In fact I'm not even in pain when I take the drive overhere. In fact, it's not about the stupidest thing I've ever done... come to work with a bruised thumb, and use it anyway, when I should've gone to see my GP and got the week off to rest. But hey, I felt guilty doing that right before my holiday! And comments like the one you gave me... however funny you might have thought you were... they're really the icing on the cake. Truly.

Alsion pointed me to this link of the Creation Museum. Yes, the Creation Museum. Fantastic stuff.
Apparently we have no right to judge Cain for marrying his sister -and back then there was nothing wrong with incest either- and every animal used to be vegetarian until Adam came along. All of them. So I guess the tigers and lions lived on a diet of grass and leaves then. We also learn that "Man and Woman have different roles from the beginning" and well... since women were made from a rib of the very first man... you know what that means, ladies. They also throw in a jibe about the sanctity of marriage. It's nice to know God was thinking about us dirty homosexuals from the very beginning, isn't it. Makes me feel special! Oh and there were a few stegosauruses (stegosauri?) on the Ark of Noah (I hope it was a big ark...)

You know, I always heard that creationists believed that dinosaur fossils were a test from God to see if you believed enough. I guess I was wrong. Or perhaps there are different types of Creationism, just like you have Catholicism and Protestantism you might have Pro- and Anti-dinos. Or perhaps it's just the Tyrannosaur fossils that are a test from God. You know, the ones with their huge carnivorous teeth. Or it might be carbon dating...
Still, if I'm ever in the neighbourhood, I'm sure it makes for a very, very entertaining afternoon.

Yesterday, while the Girlfriend was at our GP's for a very persistent bug, I decided I couldn't handle not having all the attention. So, in my infinite wisdom, I fell down the stairs. A clever and subtle plot to have all the attention turned from her to me. And boy, did it work. As a trained CSI (well, we've been watching a lot of the show, it kinda rubs off) I can see the trajectory my body made down the stairs due to the fact that I took tiny pieces of "stair" with me (take that, you bastardish thing!) and judging by the bruises I can see where I tried to shield myself and so on and so on.
The result? A lot of bruises and a swollen, pretty immobile thumb. Oops.

The Girlfriend dragged me to the A&E (or ER depending on where you're from), much against my will (you see, I'll literally do anything to get attention), where I was "treated" by a sullen nurse and doctor.
"You didn't go to your GP first?"
"Er ... no... it's 7pm on a Friday evening and he'll tell me to go to hospital for X-rays, I thought I'd save myself the time and come straight here. Plus, this way you guys have the pleasure of being able to charge me for the consultation. How fun is that?!"
"Wait here."
This city, being the metropole that it is, had a very empty A&E. Still it took over an hour and a half for someone to X-ray my hand, a doctor or nurse to come interpret the thing, and then -finally- the first doctor to come back out and tell me the verdict.
"Bruising of the muscles of your thumb, the nurse will put a bandage on your hand" and off she went on her high heels.
"Er... hang on!! Come back! How long am I meant to wear it for? And how long will the pain and swelling last?"
"Ten days, you have to rest it and put lots of ice on it."
And off she went again.
Ten minutes later the nurse came and we were dismissed.

Only afterwards did I realise I'd forgotten to ask if I was allowed to drive (-I can answer that for you today: nope, I can't drive since I can't grip anything heavier than a piece of paper) and if I can't drive, and I'm meant to rest my hand, how the hell am I meant to do my job?
I guess she forgot to write me a note. If I want one, I suppose I'll have to go see my GP on Monday morning. But I don't want to. Firstly because it means paying yet again for a crappy piece of paper, secondly I'm on holiday starting the 21st and I want to wrap up the loose ends at work, and thirdly me home alone with obligations to "rest"?? I'll be going out of my mind by the end of the first day!
Unfortunately this means the Girlfriend will have to drive me to work or I'll have to juggle with - expensive- trains and buses. Don't even ask me how I'm going to get from my one workplace to the next in less than an hour on Thursday. Impossible.

The bell rings. I freak out, because my friend said she'd be here at *noon*, not at 10.30 and the house is still a mess.
"Good morning, we're just visiting your street. Can we talk to you about God's Kingdom?"

Er... god's what now?
Thankfully, I'd already had a bit of Red Bull Rodeo and was quick to answer "er no thank you!"
"Can we give you something to read then?"
Eak!
"Er... no thank you"

I'd always said that if Jehova's Witnesses or whatever kind of christian cult-members showed up at my doorstep I'd just say "no thank you, I'm a big atheist dyke". But the woman had brought a very young adolescent with her. A 13-year-old boy or dykie-looking-girl (it's hard to be sure), and the kid looked so utterly miserable that I couldn't bring myself to say it.

Ah well, who knows... if they ever ring again I might get another chance.
Though I've always heard they put you on a "list" if you're rude to them and then skip your house from then on (Likewise, if you accept a leaflet, they also put you on a list to visit you again). Any ideas on if this is true or not?

Quote from Bush on the G8 summit

The American leader, who has been condemned throughout his presidency for failing to tackle climate change, ended a private meeting with the words: "Goodbye from the world's biggest polluter."

He then punched the air while grinning widely, as the rest of those present including Gordon Brown and Nicolas Sarkozy looked on in shock.


Come on, this has to be hoax, right?
(through theStranger)

Saturday night is synonymous with "Big Fat BBC Music Show" in this household. We searched for Joseph, for Nancy and Oliver, and now it's time for the best choir in the UK.
The first episode, the obligatory callbacks, promised a lot of drama: angelic gospel choirs, old ladies with songbooks, dressed up schoolgirls and a bitch of a matronly music teacher, a bunch of kids from Birmingham, the obligatory gay men's choir (singing "Don't you wish your boyfriend was hot like me") and a lot of choral arrangements of modern songs (Cry me a River for instance). I don't know why, but I'm crazy about these kinds of shows. And I don't think this one will be an exception.
So for those of you without a life: you know what to do on Saturday evenings!

Oh, and shockingly enough this is one BBC music show without John Barrowman!
The jury is about as annoying as three John Barrowmans though, but still, it's quite an accomplishment.

The Girlfriend's ill... stomache bug. I tried to be comforting when she woke me at four in the morning with her big puppy eyes and her sad pout, but in all honesty I was too tired to say much more than "want me to get some medication for you?" and "poor sweetie". I vaguely remember her going to the bathroom before I fell asleep again, but after that I was out like a light. Until I woke up at 6am. And she wasn't lying next to me. In my imagination she'd fallen from a flight of stairs and had been lying there wounded for hours. Or she'd banged her head on the toilet bowl and was lying unconscious on the floor of the bathroom. I rushed to the bathroom and there she was... lying on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. "Oh, I must have fallen asleep?"

Who the hell manages to fall asleep on the floor?

Why am I broody when this report shows that "Sociologists are discovering that children may not make parents happier and that childless adults, contrary to popular stereotypes, may often be more contented than people with kids."

Don't you just love sociology?

This is where you could find The Girlfriend and I this weekend. Between the military cemeteries and the many -many!- farms of Poelkapelle we were minding a bunch of kids, all of us dressed like early 19th century peasants. "Theatre walks" is what they call it. Walking through the farms of Poelkapelle and being stopped for tiny little plays now and again, is what I'd call it.
But fun was had. Especially when we saw the groups coming from afar and the kids had to rush to hide their pink neon slippers, their sweets and sweet wrappers and -above all- their Nintendo DS. They had to beg for food you see, because we were poor and the French -those evil oppressors- stole everything.
Apparently 8- to 10-year-olds have the most fun when they chat with one another on their Nintendos. Especially when they're sitting right next to each other. Their conversations consist of "hi" "how are you" "fine" "and you". I vaguely remember doing stuff like that with handwritten notes when I was their age. Oh, technology.

Less fun was this little piece of conversation with the most talkative and bossy girl of the group (Obviously I detested her)
Future Vixen: "So do you have a boyfriend?"
Me: -glancing at The Girlfriend- "A boyfriend? No, I don't have a boyfriend"
Future Vixen: "And how old are you?"
Me: "27"
Future Vixen: "you're nearly thirty and you still don't have a boyfriend?? I'm 11 and I've had boyfriends!"
Me: "Well, if you go on like this you'll have six kids by the time you're 18, so there"

Ok, so I didn't add that last part. But nearly thirty? The nerve!


EDIT: Photos are now up on The Girlfriend's photosite.

I dreamt of daleks tonight....

I think it's time for this season finale, don't you.

zurcherart! zurcherart!

( thoughts )

On my list:
- Stand up for myself at work. Really. Desperately. No, I don't like the fact that other people -psychologists- are being hired for temp contracts as psychologists, while I -also a psychologist, doing a temp as a social worker- am not even asked if I'd like to "upgrade". Yeah, I know it's far from ideal to have to switch 15 cases to yet another temp, but it would have been nice to at least have been asked. Or to have mentioned to me beforehand "we're sorry, but...". What, I'm not worthy of a mention? Wankers. Tossers.
- Look for clothes brush and thermometer. The latter is necessary for when the inevitable "it's almost time for the holidays, I'm having a tiny burnout-fever" comes.
- Buy flowers for the "garden"
- Steal the garden furniture back from mother-in-law.
- Send "hurray, you've got a baby!" card to colleague who had a baby.
- Cuddle the cats. They're being neglected.
- Only cuddle the cats *after* I've found the clothes brush.
- Spend some time in the sun to get rid of this vampiric tan.
- Try and fix the scratching pole... the cats wrecked it.

Also:
-Delegate.

We've lost our clothes brush. In our case it's a roll of sticky tape on an er... stick. It's fantastic to remove cat hair from clothes, seats and assorted body parts. Since summer is nearing and there are three cats living in our house (or we're living in their house, depending on which one of the parties you ask), we desperately need it back. Desperately. Until we do, neither of us can wear anything black, and neither can any of our guests.

Also missing: our thermometer. Necessary to figure out if you're feeling "miserable and slightly warm" or "miserable and distinctly feverish-thus-giving-you-the-right-to-be-pampered".

Which one of our friends is a kleptomaniac?

I remembered them, from when they first got married in 2004 before their marriage was declared void. They've even got a wikipedia page, if that isn't celebrity I don't know what is. (Their account of the first years of their relationship is very recognisable, I have to say *g*)

I hope that this time their marriage license stays valid. I hope they can live out the rest of their lives married to each other. It's their right.

While two male Anglican priests say "I do" (to each other, yes), I find out I'm officially old as the first of my couple-friends announce they're getting married. What? Married?! What about me, I ask you?!

Yesterday the book case in the spare room collapsed. It made an incredible noise, I thought the roof was falling down, the cats were panicking, I was too -well...- and The Girlfriend slowly spooned the rest of her pudding. "That was an awful lot of noise, what do you think that was?". Proven once again that in times of crisis, I'm useless and she's the one you need. I'd be the one helpfully screaming "Oh my god! We're all gonna die!!" upon seeing an alien (or cylon) invasion, she'd be the one going "Oh look! Aliens!". But I digress... Since we had a fully functioning spare room (not to mention more or less decorated) but not one single guests to sleep in it ever since we've moved here, I suppose it's not that big of a deal to have books, teddy bears and papers spread all over the spare room. The bed has also previously been disassembled and now all that's left is a bare mattress, a few pillows and some blankets. Well, and the mess of course. And pieces of wood and splinters.
Of course, as luck would have it, now would be the time someone -anyone- decides to pop by. And do! Come on over. It'd give me an excuse to make it "right" once again, much to the dispair of the Girlfriend.

Over the weekend, I also caught my first ever Wallander episode. It was a bit gruesome, and I kept wondering when Tony Hill or hot Simone Lahbib were gonna show up. They never did, so we had to make do with a lot of crazy Swedish people (well, to be fair, they were cult-crazy-murderers, so I don't think it's a reflection on the whole Swedish people: For one, I didn't see Carola anywhere, nor did I notice Army of Lovers or Bodies without Organs or other such fabulous exports. So not *all* of Sweden was represented... though there was a gay church wedding. *g*). My main conclusion: Swedish sounds funny. And quite similar to Dutch. "Ja".

The cuteness! It's unbearable!

In other news: M Night Shamalyalaalala's latest film is a piece of utter crap, an overacted horrible mess. It's not even B-Movie material. If it weren't for the blood and gore I'd have laughed myself silly (in this case, I just cowered behind the Girlfriend, whispering "what's happening? Is she dead yet?"). Thank god, The Girlfriend and I could ogle Chloe Whatserhername (edit: The Girlfriend just informs me that it's Zooey Whatshername... Oops.)

Off to watch the Battlestar mid-season finale... It's quite embarrassing how excited I am about this.