i ain't rich?

based solely on the 500 pound voucher I won, I rank in the top 47.22% richest people on the earth.

http://www.globalrichlist.com/

where y'at?

PS

gift ideas

How decisions are made

In case you still can't make a decision because of a paralyzing fear of the future. I suggest you look at this.

PS.
My face is leaking.

This week there are no words

POPVIDEO

Remind popvideo?

It was the first sign that a barrage of digital information was coming! Aie Aie!

I learned today that the leading cause of mortality and morbidity for women worldwide ages 15-44 is HIV. That is just unbelievable. I've never been big on AIDS advocacy like some people are, but this figure is frightening for the sheer fact that HIV/AIDS is 100% preventable!!

I mean, come on!

Next on today's agenda:

We will talk about the quantity of sparkling water I consume. The graphs show a daily consumption of approximately 3 liters per day. There is no measurement of the amount of sparkling water I emit. Tragedy strikes statistics once again.

#2. The eco-footprint of a house cat is close to that of a Volkswagen Golf.

#3. The eco-footprint of a dog is drastically larger than that of a Toyota LandCruiser.

Winner: Cat. Overall Winner: Hamster!

But when multiplied by the coefficient of food chain. The cat wins again!

#4. If you go out in town before 11am, you will be the only non-child under 50. But, do not fret, because when multiplied by the coefficient of food chain, you win (as long as you still have yer teeth).

happy 11/12/09. Soon it will be a new decade? Did you realize?

PS: There is a new word of franglais. Can you guess what it means? ITEM.

fogdays

Low lying clouds cover the city today. Visibility is a mere 50 meters at best and every creature is hooded and stumbling quickly forwards, towards their destined warmth. At least, this is how I see things after falling down three flights of stairs, landing on my feet, and finally, standing parallel with the people.

Officially, it must be the beginning of the cold season or the dark season. Daylight is leaving and we are replacing it with the heater, the blankets, and too many warm liquids. It is warned against this perilous mixing of warm liquids, cold places and speed. Loic failed to mention the crucial element of speed in transiting between warm liquids and cold places, but it must be essential.

The overhead light in my new office does not add to the romanticism of slaving over an original piece of research aided by an ever-full glass of brandy. So, I searched for the perfect accompaniment for my desk and my liquor fueled writings, but to no avail.

Instead, I came across pickles, gherkins or cornichons.

Nowhere near as exciting as lamps, lights, or lumieres.

:( End.

HAIRCUTTERY:

I am so surprised. See how my nostrils flare up to take it extra oxygen so I can sustain a state of excitement. Eyeballs are also enlarged, but this is only one of many adverse reactions to and overdose of oxygen.

The second adverse reaction is internet addiction. It is real. Fortunately, I am not a sufferer of such a terribly ironic and laughed-at malady. No, I'm just addicted to gum.

Dowap. Diddydiddy. Bang. Bang.

Addictions

Friday morning approaching noon.

The end of the beginning of the end of the week.

Rations are running low.

Specifically in the gum provisions.

My salvation and ultimate destruction may be the 6-pop-pack of nicorette on the counter. After all, it's designed to curb cravings and force a quit of your favorite vice. But, I can't help question the ethics behind satiating my gum addiction with a nicotine infusion. There is, however, an upside to this. I could kick this chewing habit and pick up one which is wholly social. (and cool)

The debate will rage on in my head until withdrawal takes over, under the banshee cries of revolution fueled by my new best friend, nicorette.

That is one ending to my story, another is in fact rooted in consumerism (buy more!). A third option is in self-control, but to make the distinction between self-denial and empowerment seems too lofty for a sleepy Friday morning.

____________________________

My hair is short. It can no longer reach down and tickle my shoulders. It's confined to a new life suspended and compressed by gravity. It's hard to imagine the hair-styles in a gravity-free land.

This weekend is my last before a dive right back into the fancy land of France. No connection whatsoever to gravity-free-hair-land-o-lakes.

Mold

I once was told not to eat moldy bread even if the piece you want to eat has no mold but the loaf does. Mold can be smaller than your eyes allow. But in unfortunate times of bread destitution and relative dereliction, what can a girl do? I don't have a microwave oven for zapping of the invisible-visible microbes.

All I have is camembert and marmite.

These two seem like quite the power couple for combating the potential dangers of eating moldy bread. It should be noted, that this bread is not the invisibly moldy kind. No, this mold is green and virulent and seems to perpetuate as I eat my way through the loaf. I suppose that, time, is a factor in this, but including time seems vain.

So I'll put the moldy side face-down on the grill pan and toast it, to really bring out the flavors of tiny colonies and put in question my vegetarian agenda. Smother the fuzz in marmite and camembert to cut off its air supply, bring a quick death to a passive passerby.

Only vigilant waiting and watching of my body will reveal the victor.

If I'm found patchy and green, generally fuzzy and seeking out the damp warmth of a cupboard, then mark it in the books; 1 point for team moldy bread, 0 points for team tough.

National Poetry Day

Coughers and some cats

linger, lurking behind me.

Mucus on my neck.

It's national poetry day. This is the best I can do while still recounting my day. Perhaps a sonnet is better suited to detail my agony of a hangover, but the inspiration is wanting.

Allowed

Lowly

Lionness

Yeasted

Scornful

Opiate-like

Nudistic

This is poem two, which I invite us all to do.

Perhaps I'll have another go. Another goo.

Albatross

Linking

Ladylike

Youths

Sadistically

Organizing

Nastiness

That is meant to tell a story of what happens when you put on yer albatross and forget to take it off before going clubbing with a gang of yobs.

I really don't know how to emphasize the importance of always removing yer sea creatures, including those who fly over the sea, before trying to grind against a tin man. Perhaps, the story is better told from the point of view of a toothless child because life must be different when your teeth are falling out in your mouth and fairies are following you and stealing.

We ain't got no pictures this time around.

sorry.

Makeover

In a burst of creative energy, we sortired the blue tak and the walls and filled the empty spaces.

In addition, we have added one green yucca plant to our household, whom remains unnamed at this moment. We are open to suggestions for this spiky fella.

Decisions are easier to make when the choices are set before you? I guess it doesn't really matter if you believe in predestination.

Ok now for the pictures.

It's like street art on the inside.

A certain male curator selected these few pieces

and this one too

Madonna can be quite scary when sortiring from the chambre in the middle of the night

just another day on the escalator

x-tina!

Right: 'the revolution must continue'

Left: 'Pressure little children into silence'

Sunset in Triptych

So Tired

Last night before drifting away to the pays de reves, I was constructing odes to Liverpudlian phraseology in my head. I meant to make them internet themselves, but the mind is still much faster than the internets. So sorry.

This weekend saw a curious turn of events as Geraud and not myself was the drunker one. How? I don't think he ate as many chupa chups as I. And in light of this evidence, I'm going to proclaim chupa chups protective of alcohol saturation but also must say that alcohol is protective of brain trauma. If we were hit by a truck, the chupa chups would lose out to the booze.

Sometimes when I squint my eyes and look outside, it's raining. Case in point, Now.

I thank the people for the birthday wishes and the lack of fuss created over my day of sortiring. You should expect birth announcements to follow shortly with the details of my weight, height, and overall consistency.

In approximately hours and minutes I will be in a classroom listening to a Canadienne speak about community development. She only ever lets on that she is Canadienne when she says Sorry. I do try to elicit these responses. However last week, she slipped into a rowdy Scot and I was smiling.

The effects of moderate social isolation + an onslaught of journalistic reporting are doing my head in.

In conclusion, let the wild rumpus start.

Autumnal Equinox

Tomorrow brings Autumn and I'm not quite ready, not quite yet.

We need to soak up more sun to make it through the long winters. I like to think of myself a tiny solar powered lamp. Photosynthesis perhaps, but only because we are alive. If we only we could eat sunlight and chew our sunburns away. Perhaps, next time.

I've been thinking again. Pondering life and how everyone is living it. It's such a curiousity in itself. We want to help others, I think. Because we are, and I quote Ekli, altruistic, but, at the same time we will only help in our chosen way. It's very discriminatory and self serving aide. And sure this can all be rationalized to 'make sense' -your sense but I donnot think it's transferable.

There was a study of women's happiness since the 1970s in the great ole USofA. We women are not as happy as we once were? Some people say we are conflicted (I am) some other just say the survey is a statistics gone awry. Men, however, are supposedly just as happy as they were back in the 70s, but why? I have some ideas but I'm afraid they are mean/ the truth.

Well that about sums up my life.

Just Kidding.

I am apparently straddling all sorts of nationalities with my voice. Are you Scandinavian? Are you Russian? Erm? But whatever, they thought I was, was enough for a life story to be brought. Full of love affairs, old people in care homes, and duty of care, oh and a five-star hotel in India.

I'll end this with a question we tried to get people to answer at a party where I knew noone. What is the opposite of History?

oh and then look at picture.

TO see BIGger

Chart Porn

because dissemination might help something one day, but probably end in global paralysis

Mundays

Aloha.

On a monday morning, we all wake up at 6am so that we can go from dark to light and accept the descent into winter madness. You'll take a shower and put a blade against yer face, get your mammalian traits away. Then it's up and out into the real world.

WAIT.

Can't forget the coffee.

Then to the office, the box. Sit, stare, think, REACT, sit, stand, run, CLEANUP.

vroom vroom. Stuck on a bridge while the last glimmer of a sun fades away into the industrial smog.

A potiron in a land of potatoes.

Good Luck Girls.

Wishful thinking.

Mile High Club

Somehow this city has a nack for cleaning itself up for the visitors we receive. If you come visit, it won't rain all day with intermittant spots of sunshine that last only long enough to lure you out of the warmth and safety of shelter. Since my sisters have been gone, there has been maybe, and I repeat, maybe one good day of weather. It's all downhill from here.

In August, I joined the mile high club (of education). I finished my Primary Health Care Project Proposal for Reproductive and Family Planning in Southern Leyte on a plane, previously worked on in a Train. My goal was to finish this machine and turn in a completed project proposal; feasibility of my suggestion have no interest whatsoever to myself. To my surprise, I got the second highest grade on my project proposal, which begs the question of: what or whom am I up against? This is a strange strange world Im living in. It gives me hope that, Yes, I can finish a dissertation in under 6 months and Yes, one day I'll be a good enough bullshitter to get a job.

Also, guess what? Almost all our natural resources, including precious metals, are going to be depleted by 2050...so they say. I have a question(s). What is the most natural response to that? Survival for the now? OR are we supposed to cherish life of others after our death?

Last week I got two letters on the same day. I reacted in the only natural way possible. I bought some paper and a pen. Now I'm just needing those sticky queen's heads to rub on my tongue and then an envelope.

Geraud and I were the UK version of the Office and I learned me some good news. Stamps are legal tender, you can use them on the bus:well they should be accepted.

Do you ever think people try to lose weight by cutting out parts of their brain? It weighs approximately 8 pounds, you know. Could be of interest for some weight obsessed folk.

I leave you with one last comment: Swine flu victims are being encouraged to blog.

B ack in the Lpool

I've been on holiday for a very long time. I have made some many pictures thanks to giving control of the Tauveron camera to Kasha. She is very good at that hold steady n click that I fail to achieve. I have shaky hands. Small trembles which are no good for capturing slices of life.

Anywho, I am back here sitting at my lovely kitchen table listening to the sounds of Jenny doing the dishes. She has a strange compulsion to start and by my housewife/husband. Makes me think she got some good training in her over there in Texas.

Kasha, Dianne et Tmo are long gone. GTT for the small one.

No idea what this Sunday holds in store for us. Yesterday was a visit north to Southport to ride along the coast on bicycles and the a stop to drink cidre. People say I never smile anymore and, now, I know why. I miss my bicycle. Either riding the bicycle creates a wind effect that pushes my face up into smile position 3.2 or it's a genuine reaction of pure enjoyment.

Later, if my legs are ever amputated and I'm unconscious and unable to make medical decisions, I want this: wheels.

Geraud and I are considering going to Scotland this coming weekend...Although, there is many a thing to do in Liverpool that very same weekend.

And in conclusion, I'd like to pose one question of futurism.

What should Geraud and I do and WHERE?

over n out

SIGUR

I hope this isn't too personal for some Poules.

I was just looking at pictures of a baby Sigur born this year to two parents in France. They are now forever responsible and traceable to their one act of passionate love. To one night of misplaced lust encouraged perhaps from drink, however this may only be personal experience speaking.

I've been hosting a hoard of sisters for weeks now. Two sisters, two weeks. Enough to stir a storm when you lead and live a personal independent life. The responsibility of amusement is hard enough to bear, the responsibility of joy is so much harder. Anyways, Jenny is back to her old games. Tickling Geraud. Laughing at his laughs. Drinking to his drinks.

I don't know that I like. But tomorrow we take a bus miles away to a city full of men, so perhaps she will be distracted, but I think she gets her kicks from familiarity.

Today I miss New Orleans I miss freganism I miss freedom on two wheels with wind and pink nights in my eyes. Geraud is contemplating moving to america but can only really come if we marry and I, I do not like religion, except for ritual sacrifice. (Although, I love a good party)

For now, I should pack, make sandwiches, break up the flirting in the second room and try to consol a broken forehead.

I also find it high time that these girls figure out what it is they are going to do; even if it's only daily.

Smelly pits

Almost 1.5 months ago I won 500 pounds worth of gift certificates. They came exactly one week ago. Then Geraud's parents came (all over yer face). We took a trip to the IKEA and exhausted tout le monde, but managed to buy an amazingly orange futon, table, and two bar stools for thematic drinkin events.

Thanks to Poule there is a lovely bird emerging in the wall. Reminds me of Soulseek.

Great Orangeness in the Great room of Smoke, Music, and occasional sex.

My Kite.

Things are happening all around. I am starting to wander more. Rambling is an official leisure activity in this country, and I can finally say I am in agreement with an English pasttime.

Soon it will be vacances time. Wedding Countdown -8-days, airplane riding in 5. France in 13.

My neck is hurtin real bad like. I think there be a squirrel nestin in the crooks. Its a shame I aint got no claws this time o year otherwise I could out that lil nut lovin bastard in two clicks and a shimmy.

Because I like to be political and outrage Geraud I'll post a picture of salaries for old white men, they need lots of money because it's hard being old and white, without money you simply just fade away.

We have a breakthrough

Through the miracle of blogging and interconnectedness, we are experiencing a breakthrough. Our voices have been heard and I have just the evidence to prove it.

Wind gusts and guts

I've been looking for chalk. One week ago I convinced Geraud to buy a stick-on wall decal slash chalk board. Its quality is disputable.

Before purchasing the stickerBboard I saw chalk. The big sidewalk kind, in a kit with stencils and possibly more stickers, but I unfortunately passed. Little did I know finding chalk would be harder than finding motivation to do a community assessment of a place I've never been.

Today, I went outside.

The outside led me back to the inside and I wandered. I go up aisles and then I do a swirl, a twirl and come back down them. I see so much, so much of which I wonder why exists. And I find no chalk, until...I have decided to abandon the chalk quest and just find wine. Everything in moderation, except excess.

Finding wine may be the easiest of tasks you can ask one to perform, in this country, in Philadelphia it is considerably harder. There is no wine at the dollar store in Amish country.

I peruse the wine, comparing label pictures to their prices, trying to figure out how much each design is worth versus how much I'm willing to spend to do something I'll never remember. I choose cheap and fair-trade. I also like the name, but I'm feeling slightly fond of this wine which makes me think we've been places before, but that's not the point. Chalk.

Chalk, and I go walking. I'm content with my wine and don't think Chalk is going to happen until I enter the realm of frozen foods. And I look to my right and amid a variety of random plastics and hazardous warning labels, I find CHALKY.

Chalky is the only way you can get yer stixx of chalk. Blue and pink, broken or not so broken. But Chalky isn't a pack of chalk. No, this is a mug. A chalkboard mug, complete with chalk because they know, unlike me, that chalk doesn't exist anymore. It is novelty.

So now I'm back home and I've doubled my blackboard writing surfaces and have chalk. I can drink tea and write messages. OR write messages to get someone to make me tea. OR better yet, the wine can go in the mug and I can write notes so that one day, I can remember how I ended up upside-down.

ps.I also found a picture you need to see.
pps. Facebook told me I'm destined to be a crackhead.

55

New home, same people. Older, wiser

..... drunker?