Saturday, November 22, 2014

Long in the tooth

Not my teeth.
Image by dozenist via Wikimedia Commons


Teeth are such a buzzkill. Always having to be brushed, flossed and dotted upon. The dreaded dentist appointments. The sensitive toothpaste. The fillings. The root canals. ENOUGH ALREADY. Let's be honest, teeth are a problem. They're a bloody medieval annoyance. It's 2014—isn't it time we find a solution?

Well, you might be surprised to hear the answer already exists. Scientists at Kings College London and the University of Leeds have invented a way to reverse tooth decay. They've done it!

From the article:

Nigel Pitts from the Dental Institute at King's College London said, "The way we treat teeth today is not ideal - when we repair a tooth by putting in a filling, that tooth enters a cycle of drilling and re-filling as, ultimately, each "repair" fails. Not only is our device kinder to the patient and better for their teeth, but it's expected to be at least as cost-effective as current dental treatments. Along with fighting tooth decay, our device can also be used to whiten teeth."

WHAT!? Why isn't this being rolled out in dentist offices everywhere!? Maybe it's because fixing tooth decay permanently will mean a lot less business for dentists. I'm no conspiracy theorist, but if the dental crown fits...

BB and D

Every family has its colloquialisms, its own set of slang that you gradually learn nobody outside your extended family says. We have:
  • Gunders (underwear)
  • Toe-do (large green garbage can, or "rolly bin" if you're British)
  • Hukilau (thingamajig)
  • Sloboblian (extended form of "slob")
  • Vivian butancles (your bottom)
  • Po-to (poached eggs and toast)
  • Pudin (term of endearment/vagina) 
Another one we have is 'BB and D', which stands for 'bad breath and dogs', which basically means really really really bad breath. Sometimes we sing it to the tune of "and many more" (what you sing after at the end of the 'Happy Birthday' song): bad breath and doggggggs!

The New Deal

Today my niece Keeley was brushing her teeth in the living room of the rental flat they're staying in.

Anna: "Keeley, do you brush your tongue?"

Keeley: "Yeah." She sticks out her tongue and brushes it. 


My mom: "You know, that's a new deal. You never used to hear about brushing the tongue. That's a new deal."


What are your tooth-related anecdotes? How often do you floss? Let me know in the comments!

Love,
Margaret

Friday, November 21, 2014

To Char and William!

It's the morning of my sistah Char's wedding. It's also my brother-in-law William's wedding too. They're getting married to each other. See, I already consider William my brother-in-law, so it doesn't feel like I'm "giving Char away" to any ol' boyfriend. William's already part of the family and has been for years now.

Anyhoo, I'm on aunt/bbsitter duty, so I'm up with birds and ready for my first of many coffees. I've decided to write today's post now, before the wedding shenanigans whisk me away.

Chin Chin, Char and William!
P.S. See what I mean about the Deryck Whibley hair?
P.P.S. That OJ has gone off. I only poured it to use as a prop for this photo. #Honesty
I owe a lot to Char and William. When I first moved to Edinburgh, I was in that horrible post-university stage. The one where you suddenly have all the responsibilities of an adult but none of the financial, intellectual or emotional skills to uphold them. 

Well, Char and William took me under their wing. They introduced me to exotic British foods I'd never heard of before—Quorn escalopes, potato waffles, bran flakes (like Raisin Bran, but without the raisins), the list could go on. And don't forget the TV shows! X Factor, Celebrity Jungle, Come Dine with Me, Grand Designs—all the greats of British television.

When I moved out of my post-grad student accommodation because I couldn't pay the rent, I moved on to their couch. For three months, they tiptoed around a snoozing grassyllama each morning before work, eating their bran flakes in silence, in the dark. 

Every other day I would cry about something—not knowing what to do with my life, missing my carefree college days, having to fill out a form so I could start paying my student loans for the next 15 years. They would console me and give me the perfect advice. 

I suppose it's too late to try and make this post not about me, so enjoy some photos of the three of us. Let's raise a glass to Char, William and I! Wishing us many happy returns!

At the pub way back in the day. We were wild arses. Look at those spaghetti straps!
Pizza in Malta!!!! It was the best pizza ever, with the saltiest cheese. I can still taste it. YUM.
Also, Char's hair looks amazing. 
Shootin' pool. Char got a hot chocolate - classic!
Whale watching!!! Have you done it? Do it. Absolutely incredible. It's like seeing a unicorn or a hippogriff. Unreal.

Fo reals though, happy wedding day Char and William! And thanks for being the best friends a gal could have!

Love, 
Margaret

Thursday, November 20, 2014

We should be florists / Serial Ep 9 Review

Holy hell. It's 11:30pm. I'm sweating like a pig. My foot blisters are throbbing. I've got 30 minutes to write this thing. Here it goes.



I've just returned from a pre-nuptial gathering at Char's flat. She's getting married tomorrow. Her and Francie went to Sainsbury's, picked up a few bouquets of flowers, brought them back to the flat and we worked our magic on them. Magic none of us knew we had. But boy, did we turn those supermarket flowers into luxurious, boutique blossoms. As Nina Garcia would say, "They look expensive." The ultimate compliment. 

But really, you can't quite tell from the photo, but they look AMAZING. Turns out, it's not that hard. We may have missed our calling to run a flower shop. 'Margaret & Sisters Florist', we could have named it. I suppose it's not too late for a career change.

Gal talk!

I made the executive decision to keep the TV off during our bouquet-making session (shocking, I know). After all, what's the wedding eve night for if not a bit of gal talk! Here's what we covered:

  • Dr. Oz turning out to be a quack (Francie didn't know)
  • Birth canals. We reckon mine is large, judging by my wide hips (let's hope so!)
  • Pizza, and how good it is (we split one, but wished we each had our own)
  • The potential of HR departments, and the reality of HR departments (why they hafta be so ruuuude)

Serial Episode 9 Review

First, can you believe there's not going to be a new episode next week? I think I speak for all of us when I say: F-you, Thanksgiving. Waiting two weeks is going to feel like forever.

Anyhoo. For me, Serial episodes fall into one of two categories:

1) Evidence-based episodes. Lots of new tidbits to stew on (even though they never add up to anything)

- OR -

2) Narrative episodes. Not too many new facts, but a clear story arc that makes me ask: why is she choosing to say this now? Is she setting us up for a fall? What's her angle?

This week's episode falls under the second category. It was really interesting. Really, really sad. But it didn't leave me questioning the evidence (or lack there of). It left me wondering why Sarah would choose this time to present quite an Adnan-friendly episode, putting him back in our good graces after the Jay episode. Is she starting to slowly build up a clearer case for Adnan's innocence? Or is she getting us back on his side, only to blindside us with something damning next week? Or, could it really be true that she has no idea how the series will end? I can't believe that. I think she knows more than she's letting on.

OMG. FIVE MINUTES LEFT.

Gotta go.

- M

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

What it's like to have a bowl cut

Last week at the pub Andy interrupted me mid-sentence with a loud guffaw. He had spotted something hilarious happening behind me. 

"What?! What is it?" 

"That guy over there is taking the mickey out of your bowl cut."

"Oh noooooo. Should I look?"

"No. Don't look," he cries laughing. 

"WHAT IS HE DOING?"

"He's pointing at you and doing this—" He takes his pointer finger and twirls it around his head in a perfect circle.

"Typical."

_________________________________________________________________________________

Image by AudunLG via Wikimedia Commons


When you have a bowl cut, you learn to own it. Questioning it is not an option (think about the bloody grow-out). 

You've made your bowl, and now you have to lie in it. Sleep in it. Eat in it. Walk in it. Talk in it. 

Other things you have to accept:
  • People in the UK might call it a basin cut. I think this is terrible. I really prefer 'bowl cut'. But C'est la vie.
  • You have the same hair as Angela Merkel.
  • You have the same hair as Simple Jack.
  • If you sleep on wet hair, you wake up looking like the guy from Sum41. Deryck Whibley. Remember when Avril was married to him?
  • Often, you look very middle aged. There's really no way around it. Although today I got carded for buying glue, so maybe I've still got it. 
But there's a massive upside.
  • You are UNIQUE. My number one goal in life. 
  • It's an attention-grabber. And boy do I love attention! For me, it's up there with food, water and shelter. 
  • You don't have to worry that you're slowly causing your hairline to recede by wearing too many ponytails.
  • Ponytails! That reminds me! You don't have to search high and low for the one hairband you've somehow managed to cling on to for the past three months. 
  • It's easy. You don't have any options other than just letting it sit there and be a bowl cut.

My hands are so dry I want to cry. 

Tootski, 
Margaret

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Another poem. Sorry.



Scotland v. England


Scotland versus England football tonight
Watch it on the telly? 
I think I just might!

And while I watch, I'll think about blogging
Uh oh. 
No ideas. 
My brain pipes are clogging.

It's gonna have to be a poem post, written in a flash
Because, let's be honest
I only work for cash.

Blogging is fun, but I'll make this quite clear:
Right now I want to watch men kick a sphere.




Love, 
Margaret

Monday, November 17, 2014

What's more fried: my brain or my Swedish style balls? Oh snap!

Workin' 9 to 5

Proof that my brain isn't used to the eight-hour workday:

Just got home. Spotted dirty soup pan on stove. Turned faucet on so I could fill it with soapy water. Looked out for the window for a second. Looked back at the sink, saw the faucet running and thought: CRAP! Has that faucet been running since morning!??! 

Yes, in the two seconds I spent looking out the window, I had forgotten that I turned the faucet on. I panicked, thinking about how much water I must have wasted leaving the tap on all day. I looked around the flat guiltily, just to make sure the police weren't hiding in the corner, waiting to arrest me.

I sat on the couch and bowed my head in shame. And then I remembered turning it on. And then I opened the computer and clicked 'new post' on Madgespace because I knew this story would be blogging gold. #SlaveToMyReaders

Swedish style balls

In other news, I am ecstatic because Andy and I are having pesto pasta with meatless meatballs (remember what happened last time?) for dinner. Actually, their official name is 'Swedish style balls'. Eww. Who signed off on that? But what's in a name, I suppose, because they're de-bloody-licious.



Celebrity jungle

The reality show 'I'm a celebrity get me out of here' (still the worst name ever; Andy and I call it 'Celebrity Jungle' instead) has started back up in the UK. It's THE BEST. You may remember the short-lived American version from a while back, but just like yoghurt, hummus, debit cards and nothing else, the UK version is waaaay better.

The premise: Throw a bunch of C-list/D-list celebrities into the brutal Australian jungle for three weeks and make them eat nothing but oats. Let the viewers at home vote for who they want to see do the food-earning challenge in next week's show. Make the celeb with the most votes do something horrific, like lie in a coffin that slowly fills with water and 40 snakes. If the celeb does it, give them a food prize that actually isn't very good at all, like a measly portion of dingo meat, or something.

The reason it's good: The show is actually pretty hardcore. Celebs are put through hell, and they're STARVING. That's why only really desperate ones who need the money do the show. Alfonso Ribeiro was on it last year. A couple seasons ago a guy got repeatedly bitten by a snake doing a challenge. It's brutal. Also, the hosts of the show—Ant and Dec—are just the most lovable guys.

With Celeb Jungle, Real Housewives of Atlanta and Real Housewives of Beverly Hills (premieres tomorrow) all back on the telly box, well, I'm just a pig in mud.

What TV shows are you watching? Let me know in the comments!

(That's what they call a "call to action" in the copywriting biz)

Love,
Margaret

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