Hiccups of fate - words with resonance

Sometimes I read something that seems so apt to life at a particular time.

"Little things--the tiniest things--could catapult you towards a good life, but you had to be open and you had to be paying attention. Love wasn't purely destined, it relied on hiccups of fate." -- "A Black Dog," by Davy Rothbart

Bi-Polar Bargain Hunter

I love luxury big time – posh food, designer clothes etc. but I hate to pay full retail price for anything – so have partly inherited a thrift gene. I say partly, because the swing from thrift to major extravagance is a finely balanced tightrope. I am first in the queue at designer sales and at factory outlets, looking for that great undiscovered bargain. I can’t resist the “Two for the price of one” items in my local supermarket, though I usually have to chuck the second one out as it’s gone off. I have great bargains hanging unworn in my wardrobe, unwearable but beautiful shoes still in their box. Every so often I have a massive clear out and then start all over again.


In my student days I scoured car boot sales and charity shops for exciting finds and still do it occasionally, but it’s not so much fun since Oxfam took the pleasure out of it by having a designer rail. After a week or so of this thrifty shopping, I’ll then go completely to the other extreme and shell out a shedload of dosh on a pair of sunglasses or a ridiculously expensive cosmetic. Intellectually I know this is ridiculous and meaningless, shallow etc. There must be a dollop of madness in the family genes.

Living in the Present


Kim Ayres explores the longings of the human condition over on his blog (kimayres.blogspot.com).
I believe you should always live as much as possible in the now, with a weather eye for the future. Some people spend their whole lives looking for something just over a hill (until they are over the hill, full of regrets – and longing to go back in time!). You frequently see people on tv shows going to live abroad to find that special happiness which is eluding them, but wherever you go you are taking yourself, the same person with the same problems and faults. At the risk of sounding like an American self-help book, I believe you can only find satisfaction and peace by being happy with yourself as you are, not putting life on hold and always waiting for that better job, better partner, lottery win or whatever. It doesn’t mean you can’t strive to attain those things, fuck no, go for it big time, just don’t forget to enjoy and wallow in the present. Take a long hard look at yourself, and be glad for your own uniqueness, you are a one off, the only model (unless you’re an identical twin!) Seriously though, if you don’t like yourself, you need to get a bit of outside help. Most people associate success and achievement with money and fame – and I wouldn’t turn it down, but I wouldn’t sacrifice my family and friends for it – at least I don’t think so! I am totally into constant rewards and instant gratification – those daily small pleasures make for a much more satisfying life. Fuck everything else, and fuck feeling guilty. Feeling guilty is for catholics - (I’m lapsed – so that’s ok). Gimme, gimme, gimme….that stunning dress, those fab. shoes, the next episode of Dr Maroon’s story…………….

Send in the Clones

Once upon a time only seagulls scavenged on rubbish tips. Then gypsies, travellers and the dirt poor discovered recycling. Old tyres, bits of lead, jam jars, old household items could be cleaned up and sold for a bit of ready cash. Now in the UK, “seagulls” scavenge in people’s bins and on rubbish tips for bank statements and documents that can be cloned and turned into a large amount of cash. Bulgaria is the current hot spot for cash drawn out on cloned cards. After it happened to several friends of mine, I went out last week and bought the current ‘must have’, a heavy duty cross shredder. The current lust-interest and I spent a whole evening of great hilarity shredding every bit of paper in sight. Next day I got home to find the shredder blocked, and spent about half an hour picking out the remnants of an old sock – hmmm… beginning to fall out of lust, methinks.

I commented on Dr E's site about his regular references to peeing and pooing - I am envious of how relaxed men are about their bodily functions. After tanking up at a pub, they have absolutely no qualms about peeing publicly up against any available wall. In France, men peeing by the roadside is a common sight. A female friend of mind recently went to China, and they had a public loo in Beijing out in the open, where everyone just had a large umbrella propped in front of them to preserve their privacy - it covered the lower body from the waist down. She was so desperate she used it, but for me it would be instant constipation. I can swear like a docker when required, but I still find myself using euphanisms when talking about peeing and pooing - a coward's cop out. If I go into a loo in a hotel, club or restaurant and there is somebody else in there, I will either try to do a silent trickle near the edge of the bowl to be as silent as possible and if I need to poo I will wait til there is nobody else in there. Men seem to find farting publicly not just funny, but will take the piss out of each other about how loud, smelly etc. whereas women will smother giggles and pretend nothing happened. One day when I am old I am going to turn into an uninhibited, noisy, farting, pissing, shitting female.