Sunday, July 20, 2014

One small step for man, one giant leap for closet space

On this day, 45 years ago, Lance Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon. There hasn't been a comparable achievement since. Yeah, we've tried—the Internet, smartphones, segways—but nothing can match the moon landing.

What about 3D printing, you say? God damn it. STOP KIDDING YOURSELF.

Man walking on the moon was the coolest thing that's ever happened.

Image via Wikimedia Commons

On July 20th 1969, 600 million people gathered around their TVs and watched a guy bounce across THE MOON. That giant wheel of space cheese! That ancient rock that controls the ocean tides and makes Professor Lupin go berzerk every month. A man flew 250,000 miles up into the sky, parked on moon and got out. It simply doesn't get cooler than that. 

My own personal moon landing

To honour the 45th anniversary of such a historic event, I decided to learn how to fold a fitted sheet. Bottom sheets, with their ridiculous elastic edges, have been a point of contention in my life for as long as I've been doing laundry. The stupid cloth amoebas just ball up in the closet, getting wrinkled and taking up too much space.  

Yesterday, I couldn't take it any longer. It was time to act! 

I found a YouTube video that explained each step of the folding process. I had to watch it a few times and really force myself to pay attention because it was so boring. After a few goes, I'd done it. A perfectly folded fitted sheet.

The result! (I also used this as an opportunity to practice 'smizing')

Believe me, if I can do it, so can you. 

Now what?

When astronauts return to Earth, they often find it hard to adjust to daily life. How can you really take anything seriously after witnessing first-hand just how insignificant we are in the universe?

Now that I've mastered the art of folding a fitted sheet, I face a similar struggle. How should I spend the rest of my weekend?

I've signed up for a yoga class, so I'll go to that in a few hours. I'll check in on the golf to see if Rory McIlroy is still winning. At some point, I'll probably eat some peanut butter.

Over and out, 

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

The universe is on crack and everyone is terrifying

Today I left the office (still self-employed, just freelancing in an office this week) and emerged into a world of pure chaos. Or at least it felt that way.

Fellow city dwellers, you'll know what I mean.

It's that same feeling you get when you leave a movie theatre and pop out into the mid-day sun. Everything and everyone is moving so quickly. The brightness is jarring. The sound of cars, deafening. A horn honk makes you jump out of your skin. You make eye contact with people and it seems like they know youvery Truman Show.

Old pic, but it works.
So, today I leave the office and narrowly avoid a steaming pile of dog poop. This sets the tone for my walk home. A fire engine squeals past. A homeless woman hollers something indistinct but no doubt aggressive. The traffic lights are about to change so I must scurry across in the nick of time.

A man stops in front of me and signals for me to remove my headphones. "Do you know how to get to Sesame Street?" he asks in a French/Italian/Spanish/Something accent. I respond with a "heh heh" chuckle, but his blank expression doesn't change.  "Oh, an actual Sesame Street? In Edinburgh?" I ask. He nods without any sense of irony. ", I don't. Sorry."

And I run.

Must get home to my pajamas, my laptop, the Real Housewives, a bowl of pretzels, a door that locks and windows that shut.

Ah, that's better.

Now, save your pity. I am not mentally ill. This doesn't happen to me every day. It's just that sometimes, if I let my guard down, the outside world can be super unsettling. If I'm not in the right frame of mind (tired, been working all day, etc.) a series of innocent events can feel like the universe is conspiring against me.

Can you relate?


P.S. Having to say "namaste" is the WORST part of any yoga class.

P.P.S. I know I don't have to say it and that yoga is all about doing whatever's comfortable to you. But still.

P.P.P.S. My experience today made me think of this:

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Woman learns to export Skype video msgs. What happens next will blow your mind.

Hi Everybody (every body. every body. ew, what a weird word)!

It's been a while since I've blogged. Anyway, I think the title of this post speaks for itself.

 (not safe for anyone who isn't in my immediate family)

Thursday, April 3, 2014

My Drug of Choice

I've been thinking about getting another metal-spider-head-scratcher.

You know the ones. They're shaped like a daddy longlegs and made of some sort of copper.

Ever since a stranger sneaked up behind me at the mall and massaged my scalp with one, I was hooked. He was a salesman from one of those 'bizarre useless gadget of the year' kiosks. I should have been creeped out, but the power of the metal spider meant all was forgiven. Whatever or whoever was massaging my headthat could wait. In the meantime, I stood as still as possible and prayed it would never end.

I finally got one to call my own back in 2012 and enjoyed a few fantastic weeks with it. But that wasn't enough. Like an addict always searching for a more intense 'high', I needed it to be better, sharper, SCRATCHIER.

One morning, laughing like a maniac, I ripped the tiny plastic ends off each 'arm' of the bronze contraption. All that was left was raw, sharp metal.

My scalp was practically salivating. Time to try it out!

I pressed the altered scratcher onto my noggin and let 'er rip across my youthful scalp. OH THE PAIN. Chunks of skin, tufts of hair and blood everywhere (don't worry, I'm exaggerating)!

But now enough time has passed that I think I can be trusted with a metal-spider-head-scratcher once again.

Bear with me while I walk to the Camera Obscura gift shop to purchase one...

--- --- ---


Reunited and it feels so good. 


P.S. This new one that I got is silver. But the first one I encountered was brown/bronze/copper-ish. I don't want you to think I don't know the difference between silver coloured things and copper coloured things.


My boyfriend has a giant brain. It’s thick like a truck tyre. His hippocampus is as big as a hippo’s. His medulla oblongata is more oblong than most. 

Everyday people pay to meet with him. They want to experience his bulky, bulbous brain for themselves. His head’s on the large side, they think, but the real evidence emerges when he speaks. His words are swift and confident. Too eloquent to be improvised, but too specific to be scripted. Where do they come from? It can only be from that colossal cranium. That muscular data sponge. That humongous monster brain, brimming with facts and ideas.

They test him with questions. Flinging from topic to topic, they try to lose him. But he hangs on.

What does a crab eat? Why is Dubai like it is? Who invented the bicycle?

The freak can’t be stumped.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

10 Easy Ways to Improve Your Life

On the hunt for a decent blog topic, I decided to look though my old 'drafts' folder. It contains all the half-written posts my first-world lethargic arse never got around to finish writing. In one of these unfinished posts, I had the nerve to offer life advice! Oh the irony.

Found this gem in my iPhoto library. Have you ever seen anyone so carefree? Please take note of the waterproof footwear.

It looks like '10 Easy Ways to Improve Your Life' was just a bit too ambitious the first time around. I only managed to come up with four. Here they are:

1. Drink all beverages out of a wine glass. Add ice when applicable.

2. Buy nice hand soap that smells incredible.

3. Add butter and a stock cube to couscous when you cook it.

4. Throw stuff away! Don't be a hoarder.

Now, months later, I've mustered up the remaining six.

5. Turn email alert sounds off on your phone/tablet. You check your email often enough anyway. Alert sounds create a false sense of urgency.

6. Keep spools of dental floss everywhere - in your car, desk drawer, bedside table, purse, couch cushion, etc. You never know when you might need it.

7. Buy waterproof footwear (my Mom's #1 piece of advice).

8. Have two types of deodorants on the go at the same time. Switch between them daily. This will stop your pits from getting immune (not science, just a hunch of mine).

9. Read! Force yourself to open a book and read a few pages before bed (even if it's a dystopian sci-fi aimed at teenagers, or the work of your favourite Real Housewife).

10. Do something creative every now and then. Make a homemade greeting card, Mod Podge a piece of IKEA furniture, do a photo scrapbook on Snapfish, decorate a cake, shave a cat. OK, maybe not the last one.

There you have it. You've just been life coached. You may as well call me Gwyneth!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to read Brandi Glanville's memoir.

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