Cricket 1, Round Brush 0

There's something weird about the human brain that allows you to forget the impracticability of a round brush approximately every six years. You spend the majority of your life knowing that blow-drying your hair and using a round brush simultaneously is pretty much impossible. But then, out of nowhere, you'll convince yourself that it just might work.

It never does.

Why? Because our arms are attached to our shoulders and we only have two of them. Curling the back of your hair under with a round brush is physically impossible. I feel like I've accepted this for the final time - yet six years from now, the frustration of my most recent round brush attempt will be a distant memory. I'm sure I'll get sucked into the round brush propaganda once again.

In the meantime, maybe I should just invest in a Topsy Tail. 

Let's move on. Edinburgh got its first snowfall yesterday. Just a handful of miniscule flakes, but snow nonetheless! It was beautiful. Weather gods of Scotland, if you're reading this, we want MORE!!!!

As it gets colder outside, it just gets cosier and cosier in our flat. I have the Yankee Candles firing on all cylinders, every finished cup of tea gets immediately replaced with another, and we fall asleep listening to the calm, wise voices of old British men doing cricket commentary on the radio.

Yankee Candles. I'm obsessed. It's me at my most 'middle-aged suburban mom'.

Yep, cricket. The sport, nae the animal. Just like watching 'Home Alone', eating tree-shaped cookies and listening to a certain Mariah Carey song (you know the one), cricket is part of the Christmas tradition over here.

'The Ashes', a biennial tournament between England and Australia, is on for most of December. Since they're playing Down Under, the live commentary doesn't start until about 11:30pm our time. It's been lulling us to sleep the past few nights.

The thing about cricket is, it's a truly fantastic game. I completely understand the skepticism - it's not the easiest of pastimes to get into late in life, but I would urge everyone to give it a go. The sport evokes the same feelings you get watching baseball on a warm, relaxing summer afternoon. Yet, compared to baseball, the tension takes much more time to build and the payoff is potentially much greater.

In a game of cricket, there are always two stories happening at once. There's the immediate action (what's happen on the pitch right now), but also the story of the bigger picture (what's the broader meaning of what's happening on the pitch - what does it all add up to). It's only as the game goes on that the latter gets clearer.

However, I'll admit that it wasn't too long ago that I thought cricket went something like this:



 That's all for now - have a groovy weekend!

Love,
Margaret

P.S. Don't forget to fire this bad boy up at your next holiday party! 'Tis the season for DJ Polite.

Vintage Margaret & Andy's Glasgow Birthday Surprise

Lately I've had the craving to write something meaningful. Unfortunately, I am struggling for topics. What's become of my former self? Where did that passionate, spirited gal who could fiercely defend the merits of celery or argue that presents are the best part of Christmas go?

It's a bit of a shame how we tend to be more reasonable and less reactive when we get older. When I was 11, I locked four of my friends in my bedroom and argued with them about the evils of abortion for hours. I distinctly remember not letting the conversation drop until they had all agreed that, yes, I was right and admitted that 'pro-life' was the correct thing to be. HA! HAAAAAA!

While I've since drastically shifted my stance on that hot-button issue, I do admire the tenacity I displayed back then. Would I have the audacity to harangue my friends on such a 'sensitive' subject today? Probably not. And actually, that's a good thing. People who spout political, religious or moral beliefs over dinner/drinks with friends are horrendous. Post-graduate life is filled with people like that. It's dreadful.

So, I suppose my goal should be to channel the chutzpa of 11-year-old Mog, but hold close the wisdom I've gained in the 16 years since. I should stick to what I do best - analyzing the Real Housewives and podcasting about Amanda Bynes. But the moment something of significance pops into my brain, I shall take to my Macbook and blog, blog, BLOGGGG! I'm just waiting for that meaningful topic to arrive.

In the meantime, here's a tale I'll call 'Andy's Birthday':

We went to Glasgow! It was a surprise! I told him we were just going to breakfast! Then we got on a train! I told him we were only going for the day! But we stayed the night! The hotel, CitizenM, was cool!

Our room at CitizenM Glasgow. Great view!

Andy + Beer + Surfing 'the net' + Glasgow = Happy Birthday

Very hard to do a double-selfie with a digital SLR. First world problems, HAHAHAHHAHAHA. sigh.

We visited the Kelvingrove Museum and the Hunterian Museum in Glasgow University. The University building is very Hogwarts-esque. It's surrounded by leafy trees and made me feel very happy. Unfortunately for y'all, we left the camera at the hotel and were forced to just enjoy the moment rather than document our visit photographically.

On the off chance that I don't write another post before the 31st - Happy Halloween everyone! I don't know what I am going to be yet. Any suggestions?

Love,
Margaret

A Tale of Two Ailments

Ailment One: Losing My Mind 

We didn't have any food in the flat this morning. I kept meaning to 'nip down to the shop' (American English translation: 'pop out to the store'),  but I got caught up in work and the thought of putting shoes on seemed like an enormous effort.

So, I kept working, staying as still as possible to conserve my energy and ignoring the deafening growls of my stomach. It wasn't until 1pm that I finally made the ten minute walk up to Sainsbury's.

I giddily grabbed an almond croissant from the bakery. STILL WARM. Couldn't believe my luck. Thinking ahead, I grabbed lunch stuff and dinner stuff - what a savvy shopper I am.

Satisfied, I hit up the self-scanner (human interaction? Nein, danke.) and successfully made it to the payment step without a single 'unexpected item in bagging area' taunt. 

Image by Jay Goody via Flickr

'Finish and Pay' - yep!
'Pay with Card' - yep!
'Insert card into the card reader' - you got it!

'Insert your pin number' - um, hmmm.

Huh.

Let me see.

Nope. Don't know it. I know the numbers, but only three of them and I forget the order. How can this be? I've had the pin for four years and I use the card nearly every day.

I had a go at guessing the pin, until the machine told me it'd had enough of my foolery. Tail between my legs, I went over to the human cashier and spilled the beans. I explained that my mind had gone blank and asked if I could put my groceries behind the till while I ran home to get my other card. The man gave me a nice 'it happens more than you think, kiddo' look and said 'of course.'

What's the moral of this story? No, I am asking you. I really don't know what to think! Am I losing my mind? Was this a bizarre result of my malnourished morning? I'm still not quite sure of my pin. I think I know it now, but the events of earlier today really knocked my confidence. 

Aliment Two: Beard Eye

In addition to my mental illness, I am suffering from a bad case of beard eye. What's beard eye? It's when your boyfriend's beard scratches the surface of your eye. Not the lid! The actual eyeball.

Little has been said about the dangers of 'dancing cheek to cheek' with a tall, whisker-faced man. Yet this morning my right eye got a beardfull, and it's still stinging now - 10 hours later!

Five o'clock shadow? More like five o'clock shad - OW!

Best,
Margie

Confessions of a Forearm Flexer

It's Sunday evening, I'm watching Return of the Jedi and flexing my forearms like a mad woman.

I managed to keep my obsessive forearm flexing to myself for many years. It's an urge that can be satisfied quickly and discretely. A simple fling back and forth of the wrist is all it takes. Or, for an extra deep stretch, I'll just extend my arm out straight and curl my fist inward for a firm three seconds.

No one has ever really noticed it - until now.

Yep, Andy is on to me. He pointed out my forearm flexing a while back and gets enormous pleasure from impersonating me. When he notices me doing it, he immediately starts flapping his wrists and moving his face muscles up and down like crazy (apparently I sometimes do an eye-roll/face stretch at the same time as flexing my forearms).

In the spirit of confessing, here are a few other things I'm willing to admit to on this 21st July 2013. As Usher would croon, these are my confessions:

1. Return of the Jedi is mostly terrible and I HATE the ewoks.
2. 50% of the time I prefer powdered Parmesan cheese to the freshly grated variety.
3. I'm off diet coke (if I announce it here publicly, it will keep me strong).
4. I like golf.
5. The only thing better than a night out with friends is a night spent alone with a reality TV show and some pretzels.

In other news, Seattle is only about a month away! Let the countdown begin!

Not only will it be wonderful to watch Max/Natalie and Jody/Anton get married (reminds me, gotta send back the RSVP cards), but it will also be wonderful to sit outside on the deck and eat fudgesicles in the K-town sunshine. Not to mention salted almonds, giant Nash's carrots and gut brot.

Until next time,

Margaret

P.S. To all the Brits in the audience wondering 'what is a fudgesicle?' - my heart aches for you.

Status Update

Oh man, I have been la-zy when it comes to blogging. Lay to the zee. But it's only because I've been 'working' so much! Andy and I somehow got ourselves a job building a website for an Indian restaurant. It's finished now, but the process probably took about 3 years off my life.

Things with the bowl cut are going well, thanks for asking. I was hoping to only get one more trim before I go to Seattle in August, but two days ago I woke up with a mullet. It's not the actual mullet that I'm worried about - it's the fact that people might think I've intentionally grown it to be a hipster. That, I couldn't cope with. I've booked an appointment for another 40 POUND haircut next week.

But enough about me - here's an update on Andy. He's been working on an exciting project.  It's a spin-off of his tutoring business. I won't reveal what it is yet, but stay tuned. Also, here's a photo I took after making him pose like a Real Housewife (except with a cricket ball instead of fruit):

 

Have you noticed that Facebook now asks you if you'd like to tag people in photos that you have nothing to do with? Well, I've been doing it!!! The other day my sister Anna posted a photo (a 'mobile upload') of her at our friend Jody's bachelorette weekend. Even though I am thousands of miles away, Facebook encouraged me to tag them in the photo. And tag I did. 

Since, unlike Anna and Jody, most people on my Facebook are people I have only met a couple times but have long since forgotten, I find this new feature incredibly upsetting. I really have trouble resisting the urge to tag people I barely know. As I scroll through my newsfeed, Facebook's screaming at me 'Would you like to tag her?', 'Would you like to tag him?' - and I feel compelled to do it! But will Facebook then tell the person that I, Margaret Kay, was the tagger? 

I am fairly confident that those last two paragraphs made no sense. But holla if you feel me. 

Love,

Margaret

Hair's to ya!

It's not often that a grown woman walks into a hair salon and asks for a bowl cut, but this morning, that's what happened.

Call it boredom or a quarter life crisis, but for some reason I had the urge to cut my hair SHORT. I was inspired by this photo of my mom and my sister Anna, as well as the haircut I had when I was a kid.

Mutti Nadinksi and Anna

Me balancing a basketball on my head. Age 6?

Anyway, I won't make you wait any longer! Hair it is:

Remember when you see me with the new cut for the first time, don't react like this (fast forward to 6:40):



 HA. "It Takes Two" starring MaryKate and Ashely. Classic.

Cheerio,

Smadge

GOOD Things About Mondays

Howdy!

Who would have thought that becoming a full-time freelance writer would mean I blog less?

I can't figure out why, now that I have all the time in the world, I still can't drag my lethargic body over to the Macbook for a bit of occasional, recreational blogging. I've been doing yoga AND training for a half marathon, so weird parts of my body hurt. Today, it's my elbow. Maybe typing is simply too strenuous.

Well, in an attempt to dig myself out of this rut, I'm going to cheer you up with some reasons why Mondays are great. That's misleading. Mondays are generally terrible. Still, I am going to cheer you up with a list of some good things about Mondays. Here it is:

1. You can rest assured knowing that the week will get increasingly less productive from this day forward

2. If you live in the UK, Monday is Mad Men day

3. Assuming you did your grocery shopping over the weekend, you should have multiple options for what to eat for dinner. By Friday, it's usually just some cereal or a cheese sandwich made with the heal

4. You get to tell people what you did over the weekend - giving them a glimpse at your true, non-work self

5. You don't even bother with the "I really shouldn't go to Starbucks - it's too expensive - I should really just cut back on the caffeine" charade.


So, what else is new? Well, my new schedule allows me to spend a lot more time with Char and Freddie. Here I am giving the wee guy a bite of my apple:

Isn't he just adorable? Andy has given him the nickname 'The Ginger Fred Man'.

I've also been assisting Francie with her blog, watching The Mindy Project (needed a new show now that Project Runway and Drag Race are over) and making a lot of lattes on our espresso machine (Andy got it two Christmases ago but I'm only now really getting into it).

Tell me about your life!

Cheers,
Smadge

Questions I Don't Want to Know the Answer To

Here are some questions I've asked myself recently. I quickly realised I actually don't want to know the answers to them. 

How often should you buy a new bra?

Is streaming a TV show better/less illegal than downloading it?

How many calories are in a Chicago Town pizza?

What does my hair look like in the back when I wear it down? (I just gave myself another home cut)

How often should you wash a bra?

Where are these little fruit flies in my flat coming from?

Should I be taking Vitamin D supplements?

In other news, I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of my business cards. Of course I just used an online, build-your-own business card website - so who knows how they'll turn out. Hopefully they'll look something like the image on the Wikipedia page for 'Business card'.

Image via Wikimedia Commons

I actually bet you there's a hipster out there whose business card looks identical to this.

Anyhoo, life as a freelancer = a delight. You might as well call me the Beyonce of content marketing, because my solo career is taking off!!! HAHAHHAHAHAHHA. Still got it.

But really, it's going as good, if not a wee bit better, than I could have expected. Although I now understand why Andy, who also works from home, despises bagpipes with a fiery passion. It's amazing how it only takes about 7 consecutive plays of 'Amazing Grace' before the guilt of ever having enjoyed the croaking instrument starts to set in.

Landsakes! I am ravenous! Time to cook up that most delicious and convenient of dinners, PASTA! 

Love, 

Margaret

P.S. I have another niece! Little Corina joined our giant family on Saturday. Congrats to Francie, Bobby and Keeley on the new arrival. For pics, check out my sister Anna's blog. 

P.P.S. For most of my life, including well into adulthood, I referred to all pasta dishes (apart from lasagna) as 'spaghetti.' I did not know that spaghetti only refers to a particular noodle. Oh yeah, I also will say 'noodles' when discussing any/all types of spaghetti pasta. I now know that 'noodles' are more specific, Asian-style things. Apparently. Though I am still a bit confused.

My Oh Miley

Firstly, let's just enjoy this photo from my shaved-head-grow-out phase:
 

OK, now to the meat of this post: Here's to having an open mind!

Raise your glass. It's truly something to cheer about!

Thanks to an open mind, and a late night YouTube exploration, I landed on Miley Cyrus' channel and discovered her 'Backyard Sessions.'

Yes, Miley is annoying and yes, as my friend Kaley pointed out, she talks like she has the world's largest permanent retainer stuck to the roof of her mouth, but these videos are great.

Also, I watched an interview with her on Ryan Seacrest's radio show (it's funny that they film radio shows now) and (again) she was annoying, but relatively self-confident - which is not true of many former child stars.

I liked this song the most:



So there you have it. I am a 26-year-old woman and a Miley Cyrus fan.

In the spirit of open mindedness, let me know what your not-so-guilty pleasures are in the comments.

More blog posts to come in the near future. I have been working on my work website, so apologies for the lack of Madgespace action!

Cheers,
Smadge

Whining works!

WOW. I can't believe it's taken me this long to blog about this - but guess what?

I got some running shoes!

FOR FREE!

On Monday I had a phone call at work, from Andy. I knew it had to be something important, or else he wouldn't have called me at work. He said that a box of running shoes had arrived for me.  I had him unwrap the packaging to make sure it wasn't a mistake or a prank or a just an empty shoe box. But no, they were real shoes. Good ones too! Asics in my size, 8.5 US. See for yourself:

And no, they weren't from Nike, despite my woeful tweets.

@nikeuk Want to send me a pair to review on my blog? Pleeeeeease? I just quit my job, I love running, my feet hurt. Thanks!
— Margaret Kay (@grassyllama) March 10, 2013

They were from my sister Anna, the dear, sweet angel who decided to indulge my whining (see previous blog post and above tweet) with a random act of INCREDIBLE KINDNESS.

A-neigh, you're the best - thank you SO much. I will not forget this moment when Podadoodledoo hits number one on iTunes and I am raking in the benjamins.

If you want to get to know the woman a bit better yourself, read her fantastic blog and buy some stuff through her Amazon banner. C'mon, you know it's about time you stocked up on Mod Podge or finally got around to reading the Hunger Games on your kindle. DO IT.

Countdown to Aberdeen-chocolate-chip-cookie-hot-tub-extravaganza-one-day,

Smadge

Change is A Foot

If you've listened to my latest podcast, then you know that change is afoot in my life.

Speaking of feet - mine hurt! Every time I run my arches are in agony. And, as showcased during the opening sequence of Kenmore Jam, my feet already need all the help they can get. With the Edinburgh Half Marathon quickly approaching, I'm in the market for some new running shoes.

However, because of the aforementioned changes in my life, I can't afford to buy any! Still, do any of you have recommendations on what shoe I should get?

Cheers,
Margaret

No Food in the House

Oy vey. Life has been busy!

From weddings to 60th birthday parties to rubbing anti-chafe gel on Andy's buttox, my weekends seem to vanish quicker than a 6-inch sub from Subway (always order a foot-long).

I even recorded a podcast during the drive back from Birmingham on Sunday (patting myself on the back for the efficient use of time)!

Andy and I got back to the flat around 7, exhausted and hungry. But - surprise surprise - there was no food in the house! A common Sunday night problem made worse by the fact that we were fresh off a long, tiring road trip.

By the time I realised the cupboards were empty, I was already in my bathrobe and there was no way in H I was going to put my clothes BACK ON and make the trek to Tesco. Instead, I decided to get creative.

My cousin Carly and my sister Anna often showcase their skills in the kitchen, so I figured it's time I follow suit. Using the few remaining ingredients in the flat, I made cheesy pasta, cheese biscuits and sausages (the sausages were for Andy, who is a carnivore).

WARNING - this meal was not healthy. It also wasn't very good. BUT, it was easy. Quickbread (aka any bread that uses baking powder, not yeast, to rise) is always a solid last resort when there's no food in the house. The same goes for cheese sauce. To make a tasty cheese sauce, you just put a chunk of butter in a sauce pan and add a few spoonfuls of flour and some seasoning. Once that's all mixed together, you pour in a glass or two of milk, grate in some cheese and stir.

One more thing - throw on an apron! You'll love yourself for it. Even if you're just making different variations of cheese and flour, an apron will make you feel like a domestic diva.

If you're ever wanting to make something only from the ingredients you already have, I recommend Supercook.com. It lets you enter what you have and suggests recipes based on that. I use it all the time.

What do you manage to cook up when there's no food in the house?

Cheers,
Margie

P.S. I need new running shoes, but I can't afford to buy any. Do you think there's anyway a shoe shop will give me a pair for free if I review them on my blog?

The 4 Personality Colours - which are you?

My manager at work has a sheet of paper pinned to the half-wall protruding thing that divides our two desks. It describes four different types of personalities, splitting each into a different colour. It's supposed to help you understand how people will react to different situations, which in turn will help you communicate with them.

Um.

I hate it.

I haven't really figured out why it bothers me, but something about the existence of this sheet of paper makes me depressed about humankind. I get a sinking feeling in my stomach knowing that this is what the world's come to. We need guides and workshops and training to tell us who we are, and how we can 'manage' each other? Don't we have anything better to do?

Ugh, I'm really struggling to pinpoint why this irritates me so much. A few years ago I probably would have loved to decide what category I belong to. It would have been a fun game to go through everyone I know and designate them a personality type. But right now it bugs me.

Anyway, enough whining. I made a photocopy of it knowing what a good blog topic it would be. Let's take a look at it, shall we?

 

 I couldn't really take a good pic of it, so I've written out what the paper says below:

See what I mean? What a load of shize. At least I learned a fun new phrase - 'analysis paralysis'.

Anyway, I suppose I am mostly yellow. But I think I have some green and red qualities too. I'm definitely not blue.

Siiiigh. Maybe we should all just take Pocahontas' advice.

What stupid colour are you? 

Love,
Smadge

In Defense of 'Girls'

But why does the multi-award-winning hit HBO series that everybody loves need defending?

Maybe it doesn't, but like all things that are generally agreed to be 'good', there's an inevitable backlash. People look for reason why it might not be good. Drunk with open mindedness, critics start to think things like, 'wait a minute, maybe this thing that people think is good isn't really good after all!' Then they write about it and we all get to feel bad about having so misguidedly believed it to be good. Ah, jeez.

Image via Retailrobot.wordpress.com

Well, I'm taking a preemptive stand when it comes to 'Girls.' I like the show; so here's my unsolicited defense:

As far as I'm concerned, the show might as well be called 'Girl'. It couldn't and wouldn't be the success it is without Hannah (and not just because Lena Dunham is the creator/executive producer). One of the critiques I've seen about the show is that the characters are simply unlikeable. I disagree, since they can be pretty relatable (if they don't remind you of yourself, they remind you of a friend) and that allows them to retain a bit of charm. However, I suppose I get the point when it comes to Marnie, Jessa and Shoshonna. Hannah is clearly the best. Yes, she's spoiled and whiny - but that's the point! The fact that you still root for her says a lot about what a well-acted, well-conceived character she is. The scenes without Hannah are worse, but luckily there aren't that many of them.

Another critique I've come across - Lena Dunham has only gotten to where she is because of her Hollywood connections. Um, who cares. Isn't life all about who you know? I thought that was a thing that teachers and parents say to emphasise the importance of networking. But now that's a bad thing? Plus, there are plenty of well-connected people who don't do anything with their lives (I'm looking at you Nicole Richie) and even if they try, there's still the chance of failing (Rob Kardashian's sock company comes to mind). As my 'Critical Thinking' course at GU taught me, when you attack the person behind the argument (or show, in this case) rather than the points they're making, that's called ad hominum - AND I WON'T STAND FOR IT! Snap, snap, snap.

So, the show's funny. It's well-acted. It's well-observed. It's realistic, but it's also ridiculous at times (because true reality, even as part of 'reality tv' will never really exist as entertainment). Yes, Hannah gets naked a lot and her body is 'weird', but probably on the same level of weird as my body when I didn't poop for three months. I don't really care how or if Hannah's cellulite is changing Hollywood's attitude toward women. But I do think it makes the show more realistic; so good.

Anyway, I like it. I can see why people like Andy who have no tolerance for flawed individuals wouldn't like it (he's never seen it, but I think I can predict his disinterest). So if you suspect you're not up for it - if you can't handle the bratty entitlement that is one's early 20s - then give it a pass. But if you've heard about the show, think it looks good and haven't gotten around to watching it - WATCH IT!

Here's a clip from this week's episode:



Cheerio,
Smadge

Boys Can't Whisper

Last weekend Andy and I went to a wedding.

I was planning on wearing the dress that I won from a box of cereal, but at the last minute I picked up this little number. I justified the expense by telling myself I will also wear it to two other weddings this summer - my brother Max's and my friend Jody's. Honestly, I really never spend money on clothes (did you know jeans are only £7 at Primark?); so I refuse to feel bad about it.

ANYWAY, between the new dress and the smorgasbord of tasty or-derves (yep - deal with it), I was in good spirits.

But there was one tense moment during the event. When the groom was delivering his speech (which was FAB, btw), Andy leaned over and said something to one of his friends. Instinctively, without even realising what I was doing, I uttered the following (in my loudest whisper):

"Andy! Either learn to whisper, or don't talk at all!"

Andy laughed, those within earshot smiled, and we all returned our attention to the speech. Still, I instantly regretted it - not because I think I was wrong, but because I've been gaining ground in my case to convince Andy that I don't 'nag' him and I knew this would set me back. Weeks worth of biting my tongue when he doesn't let the tea bag brew long enough - all for naught.

Image via the Monterey Languages Blog

Anyway, now that I'm on the subject, I might as well pursue this 'boys can't whisper' phenomenon a bit further.

Firstly, am I stereotyping when I say "boys can't whisper"? Yes. So, why do I say it? Because saying "based on my experience many boys I know can't whisper" doesn't have the same ring to it. Grant me this excuse and I promise not to get offended when fools say things like "women are crazy" or "is it that time of the month again?" (hardy har har).

Secondly, it genuinely is something I've noticed about boys (or 'men', if you prefer that grosser term) - they struggle to whisper. Instead, they just speak at a normal volume with reckless regard for the circumstance! Now, is this because they just don't care, or because they actually physically can't whisper (or it's at least really difficult for them)? If you too have noticed this, please let me know your thoughts.

In defense of boys, I currently work with two girls (or 'women', if you prefer that grosser term) who are the SOFTEST whisperers ever. They'll lean over their desks and form words with their mouths, but I hear nothing. NOTHING! And I can tell by their expression it's something juicy! I usually say 'WHAT?' in an excited non-whisper, which causes them to look around for eavesdroppers and decide against gossiping after all. Sigh.

Shhhhh,

Margaret

Meatless meatballs? Nah, let's just give them what they really want.

So, Tesco was supposed to deliver a bag of Quorn meatless meatballs (bee-tea-dub, 'meatless meatballs' is my new favourite word combo) with our grocery order. I've been craving them ever since Char wrote a blog post about them. Carnivores, scoff all you want - at least it's not horse, you pony killers!

We were expecting something that looks like this:

Image via Adventuresinfakemeat.com

But what did they give us instead?

Mini pizzas, of course.

Am I upset? HELLZ to the no. I love pizza. Sadly, Tesco knows me better than I know myself. I didn't want meatless meatballs after all - it was mini pizzas I wanted all along.

They are cooking as I type this.

Ugh, but the pan on the bottom rack of the oven smells like burning salmon because we didn't clean it from last night.

OH WELL!

Love,
Margaret

Check in, check out

I am staying one night at the Doubletree hotel in Aberdeen in a month and I'm ecstatic. Seriously, couldn't be more thrilled. If I was hooked up to an excited-o-meter, my readings would be off the chart. You would think it was a 3-week stay at an all inclusive resort in Hawaii or something. But no, it's a one-nighter at a mid-range hotel in the 'Granite City'. So, the reason for my excitement? It all comes down to two words:

HOT TUB.

After three years in summerless Scotland (Yep, they don't have summer here. Have I not told you?) my bones are permafrost. The thought of soaking in a hot, bubbly 105°F tub is filling me with Christmas morning, birth of child, new season of Mad Men levels of joy.

Image via Aberdeencity.gov.uk

Yes, I'm going to Aberdeen to see Andy run an ultra marathon, and I'm staying in Aberdeen for the hot tub. And the cookies. The Doubletree serves you warm cookies upon arrival. What complete and utter ANGELS. It's as if their entire business model (hot tub + cookie = good hotel) was developed just for me. Doubletree, if you're listening, I love you. Also, enjoy this free promotion. But if you ever want another one, please pay me for it (in cookies, LOLZ!).

In other news, I have had an epiphany this weekend: I am unable to 'check out'. In some ways, this is BAD. It means I struggle to relax and switch my brain off. However, in other ways, I am glad to be this way. It means I'm passionate, I take pride in what I do and I think creatively. It's the reason bizarre videos like Kenmore Jam and Christmas Time exist. It's the reason I have a podcast!

SO THERE!

Me in a rare moment of relaxation.

Now, off to steam some broccolini (broccoli's gay cousin),


Margaret

Pod-a-Doodle-Doo has a new home!

Hey y'all,

This blog was getting dominated by podcast-related posts, so I decided to move the Pod-a-Doodle-Doo episodes to a new place - Podadoodledoo.com!

So, if you're looking for the latest episode, you can find it there.

Podatoodledoo,

Madge

Pod-a-Doodle-Doo Episode 12 - Igor and Kaley share their 2013 fashion/celeb predictions!

Hey folks!

In this week's episode, Andy shares his latest 'goat' and it has a bit to do with eyonce-bay at the inauguration-ay (that's pig latin if you didn't get it). Then, Kaley and Igor join me for some 2013 celeb/fashion predictions. Will Lohan see 2014? Will J-Timberlake's new album be a flop? We let you know our thoughts in this extended episode! 

Listen below, or if it's easier, subscribe on iTunes!



Cheers,
Margaret

They make it look so easy...

Today at work I made a list of things that I am convinced everyone can do that I can't. I'm not being self-deprecating, because I honestly don't care about these things. This is just observation for observation's sake.

Anyway, without further adoo (YEP, adoo. why not?)...

- Eating a croissant without crumbs flying everywhere. I'm baffled by this. When normals eat a croissant, it goes from plate to mouth, plate to mouth, plate to mouth and back again as if it were any other bit of food. It might as well be a carrot. When I, on the other hand, eat a croissant, I am consistently appalled at the damage it's caused. Flakes everywhere! In the crotch creases of my trousers, in the keyboard, all over the floor, down my shirt and in my bra! How can such a small,  everyday pastry produce so many crumbs? Like I said - baffled.

- Know very basic level French and/or Spanish. How did I manage to miss this? Everyone over here in the UK could at least go to Paris and order a croissant in a  cafe (and then eat every last flake). Even Americans know a bit of Spanish!

This was for a 'dress as a country' party that I attended in 2010. Of course, when I say 'party I attended', I really mean 'my flatmates and I dressed up as a country and then ate dinner. Four of us participated. Anyway, I'm dressed as 'France' - that's why I included this pic in this blog post.

- Roman numerals. Never learned them. Missed that week in school. Yet another reason why parents should do everything they can to ensure their kids catch chickenpox at a pre-school age.

- Wear scarves. OK, I'm not talking about the standard-sized wool scarves you wear when it's freezing outside. Those took me awhile, but I've figured it out by now. It's the long, thin, 'beautiful' scarves that my neck just seems to reject. And before you suggest it - yes, I've watched the YouTube tutorials. They still don't help.


Or-uh-vwa,

Margaret
   
P.S. If you haven't subscribed to the podcast yet, DO IT.

Pod-a-Doodle-Doo Episodes 10 & 11 !

Hey hey hey,

So, I have a bit of a dilemma. You'd be surprised how both hard and easy podcasting is.

On the one hand, it's insanely easy. You just do a bit of recording on a voice recorder (not the best quality, but passable), you edit it for 2 seconds on Garage Band, you upload it for free to a podcast hosting site, you submit the RSS feed to iTunes and there you go - you're up and running!

But it's actually also really hard too. For example, it took me forever to find a podcast hosting site that created an RSS feed for me. That site works really well, except the 'embed' tool I could use to post the episodes on this blog doesn't work in Blogger! So, what I have been doing is uploading them to DivShare (another site) and embedding them here. This isn't ideal, since the plays/downloads don't count toward the overall stats - and if this is going to make me famous one day, I will need to know how many million people are downloading each episode.

So, to cut to the chase - just subscribe on iTunes! That's way easier for everyone!

But WOAH, just as I've been writing this I figured it out! Yippee! This is a fantastic development.

OK,  here are episodes 10 & 11 !

Episode 10 - This episode gets good once you get past the Sonics bit. Note to self - don't try to talk about things you actually know nothing about, tee hee.




Episode 11 -  Will Lance Armstrong make a comeback? Is horse meat really that gross? Mog, Ram and guest Sam take on the news stories of the week.




Cheerio you wonderful guys,
Margaret

Pod-a-Doodle-Doo Episode 9 (and 8!) - Kim/Kanye= Kindred spirits? Are there laws on airplanes? We discuss.

Happy New Year, Y'all! Here's yet another episode of Pod-a-Doodle-Doo for you. Andy and I catch up on Christmas, Kim/Kanye, duct-taped Icelandair guy and generally discuss what's been on Andy's mind lately. Plus, we talk about this guy:

Image by Andy Ellwood via Bossip.com

If you haven't already, you can like Pod-a-Doodle-Doo on Facebook and subscribe to us on iTunes. And don't forget to let us know your guesses on the trivia questions!

Thanks for listening!


 (And here's Episode 8, in case you haven't heard it yet. I forgot to post it on my blog. Silly me).