Category: Really old entries

Theresa is currently reminding us that it’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Do those checks!

You are a very simple and leisurely person. You are quite contented with your life and have no ambition to improve it. Which Blogging Tool Are You?

I’m 91% freak!!

I have blocked the address in question on the hateful site. For why? For because I don’t want any more messages like this:

“Dear Ragnhild,

You have a secret admirer but you have to list some guesses in order to find out who it is — Find out now!

Here’s a CLUE:

Your secret admirer is between 26 and 30 years old

Best wishes,

The SLY Matchmaker”

Sly is right.

Well. The between 26 and 30 rules out a few people, but still leaves quite a large proprotion of the world’s population. I think I will have to agree with Donna. A complete non-starter, so who cares who it is?

Still. I am saddled with an active curiosity. You know when they handed out character traits? Well, clearly I couldn’t be bothered to stand in line for Patience, I suspect I must have gone over to the Curiosity stand instead to find out what the fuss over there was all about.

We’re having a majorly important FAT on Tuesday, and I feel no kind of ready. I ought to be running around like headless chickens. Wait, that can’t be right, there aren’t enough of me… As I was saying: I ought to be running around like a headless chicken. I’m not, though. I’m taking it all strangely calmly. Well, several days left. Plenty of time to panic yet.

Voice in my head: Singing in the Rain (it’s been pouring down all day, though maybe ut should have been Singin in the Sleet, as that’s what it was when I was outside in it this morning)

I just lost a long nice message because the stupid modem driver caused the computer to crash AGAIN!!

Grrrrrr.

Oh, well, I’ll just have to rewrite it:

I have had a message from www.SomeoneLikesYou.com again. In case you have never been so unfortunate, their idea is to send you a message saying someone has a crush on you and then, your curiosity being engaged, make you enter other people’s names and, crucially, e-mail addresses, and also, in order to get further, to spend money on their “partners'” sites. I was just about tempted to test it the last time I had a message from them, but I drew the line when it got to the money-spending. I am not that curious. Besides, I found out who had originated the message. It’s a chain reaction thing, and you really don’t want to involve your friends in this (really). Stay away from it.

If someone really has a crush on me (which seems unlikely), could you (please take “you” henceforth to refer to the potential deluded individual who imagines that sending me spam-generating anonymous – and highly un-romantic, I must say, unless anything, anything at all, which happens to be pink, is romantic in your eyes – notes through third parties out to get my money is likely to help his (?) cause) please just tell me? (If you can untangle the various bits of that sentence you deserve a Bamsemums – I will award myself one for having written it, I think – to be picked up at my place anytime.) Or, if you insist on being mysterious, send me one perfect rose (I prefer the so-dark-red-as-to-be-nearly-black variety FYI). Or take a hint from Parker, below. Or send me a good old fashioned letter. You know, the kind written on actual paper and with a stamp on the outside. Please, please, do not send me spam.

What’s much more likely, of course, is that one or other of my friends has had one of the infernal messages and been lured to enter random e-mail addresses in the hope of finding out more. If this is the case, you (“you” now being the average reader – though come to that, I do not have any average readers, to my knowledge, you are all quite exceptional in one way or another) are, of course, forgiven. But please let me know, I am slowly perishing from curiosity. And, as you will have noted, it has exacerbated my use of parentheses and subclauses.

I am somewhat intrigued by the loathsome site’s insistence that you “list five of your own secret crushes”. Honestly! I have a hard time working myself into even one decent crush, let alone (more than) five!

I promised you Parker (Dorothy, naturally), so here she is:

(Ah. Hit Ctrl+S and if the abominable driver causes more trouble I will not have to rewrite all that. Anyhoo, back to Parker:)

One Perfect Rose

A single flow’r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet-
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
“My fragile leaves,” it said, “his heart enclose.”
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it’s always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

Voice in my ear: Bjarne Brønbos nye plate (Salmer på ville veier) på spilleren

It’s that time of year again. That time of year, that is, when I have to come up with a good present for my grandfather for his birthday, and then, just a month and a half later, I have to come up with a good present for my grandfather for Christmas.

What do you get an 86-year-old man who’s got everything he needs (except, possibly, enough attention), and who is markedly unenthusiastic about almost anything whatsoever? Last year I had an enlargement done of a picture I’d taken of The Cat, and that was certainly a great success, but surely I can’t give him enlargements of pictures of The Cat every time? For one they would quickly run out of wall space. For two (ahem) it would get very boring very quickly. It’s tempring, though. There was a pretty good picture of The Cat on one of the films I picked up yesterday, and Japan Photo are doing enlargements as their October special. Still. Unsatisfactory. And there’s still Christmas.

Cat food? Useful, but not very exiting.

Think, think, think.

I love getting people presents in general. It’s just my grandfather. My grandmother can be difficult, but she collects key-rings so there’s always that to fall back on. My mother can be quite tricky, too, but that’s partly my own fault. I make the job difficult for myself because the reaction I’m aiming for, generally, when getting someone a present, is: “Wow! This would have been on top of my list if I’d even known it existed!” And some people are easier to “second-guess” so to say than others. My grandfather is impossible. My maternal grandmother was quite difficult, too. I guess my mother takes after her. I must take after my father (who is either pretty easy to please – for me – or very good at pretending to be pleased) in this respect. Or else people are just very good at buying me gifts.

Sometimes, of course, I do actually get people something they’ve asked for. It’s more fun to keep an element of surprise in there, though.

So. I’ve started my Christmas shopping list. Maybe I was inspired by the fact that it’s been snowing all day. Maybe it’s just the fact that I realised that if Linda’s going to get a Christmas calendar (and she is, of course) I really needed to start planning. Should I do more than one calendar, I wonder? Do I have the energy? Maybe not. What with being annoyed at Active ISP (the host for the NMWL site) and all the work I need (well, ok, want) to do on that site and the redesign of this site and the fixing up of the kitchen and, oh, work, must not forget work, most of the hours until 1 December (and WAY beyond) seem to be bagged already.

Voice in my head: Vonda Shepard – I Only Want to be with You

The top ten shortlist for the Great Britons thing is out. They have Shakespeare on it at any rate. And Brunel, Darwin, Nelson, Elisabeth I and Churchill. Which means we agree on 6 out of the 10. Not so bad, is it?

But where is Jane? (And Oscar?) Hmph.

Voice in my head: Øystein Sunde – Twinåtter’n

Item 1: Friday the tune stuck in my head for most of the day was “When I Fall in Love”. Ah, the old Nat King Cole classic, I hear you say. Yes, well, except the guy crooning in my head was Rick Astley (he was also walking around among snowy threes, all in my head of course). Drat. Anyhow, I don’t think I’ve heard that version since it was a hit (or a flop, can’t remember quite which) back in the stone age (late eighties?), so who knows where my subconscious found it. But then I turn on TOTP2 this weekend, and guess who’s on? You’re right, a very sincere-looking Rick crooning as if his life depended on it (well, I guess it did, his livelihood, anyway). I thought he was dishy when I was 13. My taste, thank god, has changed somewhat. Besides, he looks so young. (OMG, I just did a google on Rick Astley to find out how old he was back then and it turns out there’s an official Rick Astley web site. I don’t know why I’m surprised, there seems to be an official website for just about everything, but somehow I hadn’t expected it… Well, in fact, the official website was useless, I couldn’t find his birthdate there – found it on another page, though. Born in 66. So… that would make him… 87-66 is 21. Crikey! 21! No wonder my present self thought he looked young!)

Item 2: Yesterday evening I was working on the NMWL webpage rewrite and realised I needed to eat. I finally managed to tear myself away from the screen, and just as I got to the kitchen the cd on the stereo got round to “Be Our Guest” from Beauty and the Beast (I was listening to a Disney compilation, obviously). My subconscious playing a part? Perhaps, but I’d been thinking about getting up for over half an hour and had just finished a file and managed to get away without giving in to the temptation to start on another one.

I forgot I was going to try completing “The Friday Five” every week (not one to let the bandwagon pass me by, as you know). Well, thanks to Blogger Pro, I’ve cheated and added the post with the appropriate date and time. Hey, I’m paying for this thing, I might as well use it.

Interesting. Had a conversation at the coffee point just now, a coworker was looking for the right sort of bisquit. “Bixit?” I offered. “Maybe. You know, the yellow package,” she said. “The caramel?” I asked, as it was the only yellow packaged bisquits I could think of. But, no, not the caramel. I then showed her the secret store (maybe I shouldn’t have, it’s not going to remain secret if everyone knows about it, is it?), and there they were.

Funny. I would have called the package blue. In fact, I think the volume of the yellow parts is probably about the same as the volume of the blue parts (the picture isn’t great, being from the wrong angle), but to me it is a blue package. To be specific, it’s a blue package with yellow banners and yellowish bisquits.

I have a ticket for the Harry Potter premiere!!! Granted, the premiere here is about three weeks later than the actual world premiere, but still… I have a ticket. For the very front row, even, which, of course, means I get to see the film first ;-)

I got up early (for a Saturday) and stood for over half an hour in the freezing cold outside Saga. But it was worth it. I don’t think I’d go as far as sleeping outside the ticket office, though. Not even for the world premiere (though I might for the next book, if it were summer). In fact, I think about half an hour was probably the upper limit of my fanaticisms control over my impatience with queues.

The other major event of the day was going to IKEA: I now have storage in my bathroom – somewhere to put all those tubes and bottles and hair-thingys and other whatnots that I never use. It’s also a good excuse for going through everything and throwing some stuff away. Like the Clear&Clean which is supposed to clear your skin but actually gives me achne. Not much point in keeping that, really, is there, though it seems such a waste to throw it away.

Voice in my ear: Hanne Krogh on the stereo (“Ta meg til havet”, this is probably the one record I have that I’d have to burn prior to letting someone I wanted to make a favourable impression on look through my record collection. Come to think of it, there wouldn’t be much point in that now that I’ve mentioned it here, would there? Just as well, as I’m not sure it would be possible to get hold of another copy and I’d hate not to be able to hear it again.)