pippychick

Over Christmas (as we do every year), we watched the entirety of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ while engaging in our own particular hobbies. Mostly, the quiet ones, like sewing, although every now and again it does precipitate one to cry out in a most alarmed fashion upon discovering an earlier miscount of stitches.

Be that as it may, I came upon a sudden startling conclusion whilst watching this year, which has to do with my dislike of our modern-day “celebrity culture”- and it is this:

Almost everyone on the entire planet has turned into Mr. Collins!

It’s true. Think about it for one moment. Remember the ugliness of his infatuation, and how well he considers himself for enjoying the “condescension” and “patronage” of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. You could easily replace that woman’s name with any featured in the celebrity section of our news outlets today and lose little meaning. And, just as in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ Lady Catherine has little claim to our (or Lizzie’s) adulation, our admiration or even our respect, except for that which society bestows upon her.

In light of the above, it is possible that we can draw a straight comparison here between Lady Catherine and any of the Kardashians, or Kanye West, or Donald Trump. As for Mr. Collins… I respectfully and humbly suggest that if you’re in the habit of grovelling to people with no claim to your consideration besides their excessive wealth and status – please stop. The rest of us are Lizzie. We are not Charlotte Lucas. It’s unseemly.

My apologies. I haven’t been writing anything. And now I have a piano lesson. And actually, I think I might be Lydia. Oh, well.

I am building a small solar-powered toy robot. 

At this point, I’m assuming the “educational” aspect of this toy for children is the eighty page assembly booklet, in Chinese.

2016, how I hate you. Several days ago, we were watching a modern take on A Christmas Carol, and checked to make sure Liz Smith was still alive as she has been in three versions of that story. Today, when I was showing my mother how to use the voice activated google search on her phone, she asked it first about Liz Smith, since we already knew she was all right (or so we thought).

RIP Liz Smith, who died on Christmas Eve.

Seriously, I can’t even… *sighs*

And RIP Richard Adams, author of Watership Down.

COUPLE OF KIDS LAST WEEK AT WORK: We’ve never heard of BlackAdder. What is it?

KID AT WORK TODAY: I didn’t know who George Michael was until I saw the news this morning.

Clearly, these kids live on a different planet to the one I inhabit.

Food shopping commenced at 0700 hours. Food shopping completed at 0900 hours.

A dog ate my mince pies while I was putting the shopping away.

*tries to wrap things*

*fails*

*panics*

Status at 1100 hours: Panic.

It’s definitely Christmas now…

*sings along to ‘A Spaceman Came Travelling’*

You can sing this even if you’re an atheist.

My christmas gift shopping is now completely done! Down to a silly bobble hat for the dog, and a collar with bells on for the greyhound. Next week: Food, Glorious Food!

Gifts wrapped this evening = 1

Gifts waiting to be wrapped = [in the style of Edward Woodward in The Wicker Man]: Oh, Jesus Christ… Jesus…. Jesus Christ… [WAILS IN TERROR AND DESPAIR]

Total Gifts wrapped = 1

I seem to have embarked upon cross stitching. If anyone would like a christmas card with a little cross stich picture on it of a robin, a snowflake, a reindeer or some such silliness, please pm me.

There is no mead in the mead shop. Not a single drop. Not until after Christmas, anyway. In desperation, I walked into the ASDA earlier to ask if they sold it. They’d obviously never heard the word before in their lives, and insisted on pronouncing it as: “Meeeeeed…?” That is what I call a wasted youth, and *waggles finger* it’s a sign of just what has gone wrong with this country since the time of King Arthur.

Let’s make Britain great again. Let’s make mead! We could employ at least… ten people! And thousands and thousands of bees. That will give the bees work to do, and stop them from dying all over the place from worklessness. We have lots of bees, all doing nothing for most of the year. Hiding in their homes with the curtains drawn while the rest of us go out to work in the morning.

We all know China is making cheap mead on the side, flooding the market with it. That was a fantastic day… but anyway! We will install a giant net over the UK, keeping our bees safe, and foreign bees out!

/satire

Tip! To make this parody for yourself, mix equal parts Donald Trump and Iain Duncan Smith. Full recipe details can be found on any mainstream news outlet.

Oh, but sadly I wasn't kidding about the mead

2016 is not done with us yet. Goodbye, Andrew Sachs, and thank you for making me laugh.

“I know nothing!”

Advantages to online xmas shopping: Done in an hour, easy, get stuff for cheaper than out in town, get stuff you couldn’t get in town.

Disadvantages: The delivery. I’m waiting for around thirty items, but today, if I’m lucky, the postman will deliver one or two of them at best. Also, I went back to bed at 8:15 am, then got an email at 8:26 which I didn’t read, advising me a driver would turn up between 9:25 and 10:25. Seriously!? I woke up at 9:45 to find an annoying card. They didn’t even manage to wake the dog up. They must have tiptoed to my door… *growls*

Right now I officially hate Christmas. And I was doing so well this year.

I can’t help imagining how much worse Scrooge would have become if he’d woken up on Christmas day morning to find cards from the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future saying: “We’re sorry we missed you!”

Last month, a part of my filling fell out. I say fell, I was actually reliving my childhood with a surplus halloween Drumstick lollipop. Today, my appointment at the dentist came up. Thankfully, they didn’t need to do anything painful. They just removed my temporary filling, cleaned it and redid it. I feel like I just got a get out jail free card while on death row. Also, my dental hygeine is great and they don’t need to see me ever again (or for twelve months, which is much the same thing). 

Excuse me while I slump into a relaxed pile of vaguely human shaped happiness. Then I will update stuff.  

I will also think twice from now on before reliving my childhood with chewy sweet things.

I’ve been trying to write Elrond/Celebrian all day, despite frequent interruptions, and I have to say, while she is a dreadful tease, he can really tie her in knots with words when he puts his mind to it… Surprised me when I started noticing it, but then I suppose it makes sense, him being such a diplomat and all.

Yes, this means I am writing heterosexual romance… hold the press.

It also means I have broken into your box and eaten your chocolates, CL… I was writing het, I was desperate. I will get you some more

Now that I’ve gotten over my childishness earlier, on this Thanksgiving day, I am toying with the idea of writing a comedy/horror story where the ranks of the ghosts of the working class, past and present, conspire to terrorise their enemies. Wherein the first idiot to say: “Yeah, but they’ve got a widescreen tv to watch Jeremy Kyle on!” will be decapitated by a horrifically angry child in rags. Where London’s biggest Waitrose branch becomes a food bank. And every beautiful old building we’ve got that’s been converted into a luxury anything is immediately reclaimed as a public library/art gallery/place to hang out.   

Those hiding in the Ritz and Harrods will find themselves in a converted factory, on an production line where they have to sort stones from pebbles as piecework. Forever. The first of them to say: “I’ve worked hard for what I’ve got.” will lose a limb, teaching them a valuable lesson about what they’ve actually got, and how little it relates to imaginary work that they’ve never had to do. Until now.

Anyone ever have those days where you think:

“What is the actual point?”

And then have to go back to bed before you start hitting the delete button all over the place?

*sighs*

I can never work when I feel like this. Although if I could only harness it… the sensation of being almost completely invisible while screaming into the endless void would surely come in useful for writing Maglor.

*tries to tempt brain into creativity*

Nope…

*goes back to bed*

I appear to be the only one posting lately in the ‘Promote A Story’ thread… weird… *sets to work on The Teacher*

Frankie Boyle. Please don’t ever stop.

Quote

Trump alienated the Republican base. There are Republican politicians who didn't vote for him. Those are some of the worst people in the world. How can you lose them? There are people who didn't vote for Trump who would have voted for Magneto.

 

Quote

He said a lot of mad, racist and sexist stuff – stuff that would have got you fired from any other job. Just imagine, you get called in by your HR and they go:

“We're sorry, Larry. You've said a lot of mad, racist and sexist stuff. You can't stack timber anymore. The only job you're now qualified for is President of the United States of America.”

 

And before the end of the day… Robert Vaughn. RIP *sighs*

Goodbye, Leonard Cohen; thank you, and peace to you.

2016 continues to march... On remembrance day, too. It seems as appropriate as any of the other insane things that have happened lately.

“They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old,

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn,

At the going down of the sun, and in the morning,

We will remember them.”

At the two minutes silence today, it’s obligatory to look back, but recent events might cause a few of us to look forward.

I have like a million things to post, but I am lazy. Also, one of my fillings fell out. What is *wrong* with today?

I refuse to believe I’ve woken up.

If I keep watching these anime things, I’m going to learn selected bits of Japanese by exposure, but everything I learn will just make me sound like some Japanese version of Papa Lazarou. i.e. “You’re mine now.” “You belong to me.” “It’s quite swollen.” “Don’t worry… I’ll enjoy myself.” “That’s a nice moan you have.” All I need do is learn how to say: “You’re my wife now, Dave!” and “Where’s the toilet?” and the transformation will be complete.

Last week we had new doors fitted, and since then I keep getting locked out of my house. Yesterday, I was out there for over half an hour, dogs and shopping in tow, because my key wouldn’t work. Eventually went around the neighbours, who sent her bloke around who couldn’t get the key to work either, until all of sudden, it decided to release the catch. Unfortunately, he closed the door to try it again, and we were locked out for another ten minutes. So today I’ve had the council back to say the keys won’t work (because my mother has had trouble too), and they all work this morning! It’s astonishing how people are disinclined to believe you when you explain what happened, as if you’re a moron or something who doesn’t know how to work a catch. I swear to God… *growls* To get them to do anything, I’ve had to say that I can’t leave the house for fear of not getting back in, which is perfectly true. FFS!!! I feel like screaming.