Big fat gay

I was innocently link-following in Wikipedia, from Cloverfield to Humpback Whale, when I came upon this:

Herman Melville describes the humpback whale as "the most gamesome and light-hearted of all the whales, making more gay foam and white water than any other of them".

I don't think I need to say anything else.

Beakzilla

Hedge sparrows peck around on the grass, hoping to find morsels of sunflower seeds and peanuts dropped from the feeders above.


Bluetits swing on the hanging sunflower seed feeder. But suddenly, a deathly pall descends over the tranquil garden setting...


Prepare yourselves. Steel your nerves. There is a presence in the old, dead cherry tree.


It's Beaky!


See how that massive pigeon is keeping it's distance from him? Look at that evil glint in Beaky's eye. Eeeeeeeeevil, I tell you!

I notice he's dyed his white streak too, so as to appear indistinguishable from the other blackbirds, perhaps. Must have used Just For Birds...

Hot footing it

Out! Get out you little bastards! Ou- No! Not on the carpet. Oh, look what you've done... Eeeek! The lino! Shoo!

Oh, how I loathe ironing shirts. Remind me never to try using magic to get it done again. My iron turned into a herd of tiny elephants with red hot feet and proceeded to trample all over the dining room carpet. Which is now covered in hundreds of little smouldering footprints...
And you should see the lino in the kitchen! Tiny molten craters of lino lead from the dining room to the back door where I managed to shoo most of the little buggers out.

* sniff sniff *

Uh oh. I can smell burning. I think one of them ran under the radiator...

I'm doomed!

Just to further cement my Spinsterhood status, I have bonded with my new 'nephew': Spike II.

Inexcuseable has seen fit to furnish her life with a replacement Spike after the original was unceremoniously despatched by a passing car. Anyway, without further ado, here are the pictures of Spike II:






Quick! Kill me now!

... Little recipe

By popular demand, here is the recipe for the cake from Friday's post.

4oz/100g unrefined soft brown sugar
4oz/100g softened butter
2oz/50g self raising flour
2oz/50g ground almonds
2oz/50g cocoa powder
2 large eggs (or 2 medium and a splash of milk)
A few drops of almond essence - Not almond flavouring as it's cheap and nasty and made of chemicals.
4oz/100g dark chocolate drops or chopped chocolate

Mix up everything except for the chocolate with a hand mixer or in a food processor. Don't mix for too long otherwise all the air will be beaten out of it and it won't rise so well. Stir in the chocolate by hand, then you're ready to bake. But first, you must choose your tin. Actually, you probably should have done the tin-choosing before you started mixing. This recipe is good for making individual cakes (about 12) in muffin tins, or one large cake in an 8inch/20cm square tin - Remember to line the tin with baking parchment/paper.
Oh, and you should've turned the oven on, too, so it's hot by the time you've finished mixing. Gas mark 4, or 180 degrees should be fine. Maybe about 170 if you have a fan assisted oven?
Bake the muffin-style cakes for 15-20 minutes or until just firm to the touch. The large cake may take 20-25 minutes.

If you have an Apocalypse Oven like mine, put your space suit on, and pick up the tin of raw cake mix. Open the oven door and hold the tin in front of you - DO NOT PUT IT IN THE OVEN! If your face plate hasn't cracked from the intense heat, you should notice the cake is cooked after a few seconds. Shut the oven door, and relax as your space suit's internal cooling fans struggle to bring your body temperature down to comfortable levels. Swear at Apocalypse Oven and kick it as you walk past to the kitchen counter where you can put the cake onto a cooling rack.

You might like to have a nice glass of wine while the cake is cooling. Possibly even two. Personally, I prefer to finish the bottle - 'Waste not, want not' as the saying goes. Alternatively, why not try a nice gin & tonic or twelve?

Once the cake is cool, and you haven't lost your hand-eye coordination from one too many gins, you can decorate it as you see fit. I spread the muffin-style cakes with chocolate icing/frosting and sprinkle grated chocolate on top. Or, if I've made a square cake, I cut it in half making two rectangles, spread chocolate icing on one, put the other half on top, then spread that with icing too.
Friday's cake was made in a special mini-cake pan with six individual round 'tins'. I sandwiched two of the mini cakes together with icing, spread more icing on top, sprinkled it with grated chocolate and finished off with crystalised violet petals.

I've found that this cake has a moister texture to it if it's left overnight in an airtight tin before eating it. But if you want to wolf it down right away, go ahead!

Little cake...

... to be eaten with your little mouth.





Just practising. Baking and photography, that is. What do you think?

Pudding

There are some things that one just does not want to see at hideously early o'clock in the morning. More especially, there are certain things that should not be seen no matter what the hour.

I'm talking about you, Spotted-Dick-In-Speedos.

I mean, just eww! If you're fat* and look like you've been mixed up with more than a handful of raisins, please do not wear Speedos. Ever. Not even as a joke, because it's just not funny.

My early morning swims just aren't what they used to be. Bring back the stubborn old lady, all is forgiven.



* I didn't want to beat around the bush and say 'overweight' or 'plump' or 'jolly' because we'd all know what was meant.

Duck! No, it's a blackbird...

That little git, Beaky, has almost had my eye out!  

I was, minding my own business in the garden, potting on some philadelphus and moving my agaves across the paysho. I turned around, crouched to pick up another pot, then stood up with it, only to find a sharp yellow beak with four ounces of blackbird attached to it hurtling towards my face.  

Yaaarrghh! 

I ducked just in time, as Beaky didn't make any attempt to swerve. I dropped the pot which smashed onto the paysho, feeling the breeze from his passing ruffle my hair. As he zoomed off, Beaky let fly with his piercing expletive-laden call, probably with a smug look on his evil little face. 

When I get my hands on the little bastard, I'm going to have him stuffed and use him as a toilet-roll holder!

Sweet as pie

I might have a little cry then go to bed.

Why? Because I've just watched Pushing Daisies. The Pie Man and Chuck are so sweet that it makes me sick!

Tim, this may mean I'll be coming for you, after all.

Actually, no I won't. I've just been to yours and discovered that you want kids. I'm guessing not to devour messily with new potatoes and mint, either. Pah! Bloody Breeders...

5ive

No, not that lot. I've been tagged by the ever lovely Snooze.

5 things in my (man)bag:

Address book
Black biro
A plaster (band aid)
Opened pack of Wrigley's Extra sugar free gum (Cool Breeze flavour)
Someone's phone number on a Post-It. I think it's someone's from work?

5 favourite things in my room:



Spathiphyllum 'Mauna Loa'
Blog notepad
Photo of Gitface
Red bed linen
Rabbit.

5 things I have always wanted to do:

Tim, Connor, Pete who used to live next door, George (one last time)...
No! No, no, no. That's not what is meant!

Spoilsport!
Shush, you.

Here, let me finish off:
Fly unaided - I don't like being reliant on Broom, Brolly or unbaptised/unchristened virgin boy fat! Bleeuch! Cholesterol-y.
Give those brats Hansell and Gretel their comeuppance. Little bastards.
Ooh! Ooh! I've got one: Be in a TV show. Preferably as a recurring character in Star Trek Deep Space Nine (yes I know it's finished), Desperate Housewives (as Tom Scavo's boyfriend once he's dumped that nagging shrew Lynette) or Primeval.
Breathe under water.

5 things I'm currently into:

Pushing Daisies (even though it means watching chavvy ITV [no relation]) especially the adorable Pie Maker Ned who reminds me a little of Tim - Must be the eyebrows.
Freckles - either getting my own or seeing other peoples.
Magnolias - the trees, not the paint colour.
Baking chocolate marzipan cake.
Betty's Utility Room. Go and have a look - THIS THING IS FUCKING AMAZING!

5 people to tag: Tim, MJ, CyberPetra, Frobi and the frou frou T-Bird.

Do your worst, my Pretties! Mwah hah hah hah hah ha!

Yeah, this is just a filler...

I thought you should see my knew Demon Box at long last. It's not really dumped all over my dining chairs - It's dumped in the corner behind them, as I haven't found a desk thingy that I like. Of course, finding the right desk will be made into a massive drama, too!

Five, Six, pick up sticks...

Well, hello again. I've just got time to give you a quick update on another couple of books I've read, bringing the total to six this year! Six, eh? Who would've thought it? Watch out Dinah - Here I come!

Book the first was ::drumroll:: The Witches Of Eastwick by John Updike.


I know. You can't believe it. Well, I can barely believe it myself, but finally I have finished that damn book! I know I've moaned about it quite a lot, but, quite frankly, it deserved it.
Well, maybe it didn't. It's likely that I was disappointed that it was so different from the film, which I love. This disappointment is unusual, as in most instances, I much prefer the book to the film adaption. However, I can see how the film's characters evolved from those in the book, and how some of the scenes did, too. I'm not going to go into a full-on book review for two reasons. One: I don't want to spoil it for anyone who may want to read it, and Two: I can't remember enough details about it to review it properly. Apparently, the New York Times said it was 'Dazzling', and who am I to argue with them?

Book the second was Neil Gaiman's Marvel 1602.


Now this isn't really a 'book' book, it's a graphic novel, but it still counts. Marvel 1602 is a story about what would happen if the superheroes, villains and mutants of present day were instead from the turn of the 17th century. The story is set at the end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth and the beginning of King James of Scotland's reign over England, too. America, the New World, has just been discovered and the Spanish Inquisition and a certain Count Von Doom are making things difficult for all and sundry.
The artwork is excellent, the prose suitably old fashioned and the characters easily believeable and recognisable, despite their attire (or lack of, in some cases). Again, I'm not going to give away the story, but for those who like their history with a twist, I highly recommend this book.

You might like to notice that rather than find images of these books on the interweb, I've used my camera to take pictures of my actual books (and a bit of tablecloth)! Yay me, eh?!

IDV's DVDs

Well, after you harassed me in your multitudes - Oh, OK, so it was just CyberPetra - I bring you the DVDs of IDV!



I hope you can make them out OK? You'll probably have to click to embigulate (I pinched that word from either The Simpson's or Spike).

There're not a lot there - Well, I don't think there're a lot. Inexcuseable and one of my oldest Hags have whole bookshelves (or DVDshelves) full of them, so compared to their collections, this is but a drop in the ocean. I only tend to buy films if they're really, really good and have loads of killings. No, really, only if I know I will watch them again and again (step forward Parenthood). Otherwise, I borrow from Inexcuseable, or wait until they're shown on television, in which case, I'll usually record them, forget what's on the tape and record over it (more often than not with Desperate Housewives or Heroes).

Before I bring this brief post to an end, I have a couple of people who I'd like to confront (the first person in more ways than one):

Tim - Who said "I'm trying to see what shitty DVDs you've bought…" - Well, Tim, according to Facebook's Movie Compatibility Report, our score is 68 (Best friends). That's a higher compatibility rating than any of my other friends, and higher than the six of yours who are displayed in your Movies application. So, who's got a shitty DVD collection?

Piggy & Tazzy - Who said "We can tell you that his DVD collection consists of everything camp you can imagine.
"Brokeback, Priscilla, Tom and Jerry, Jane Fonda's Workout... you get the drift.
"Astonishing and shameful." - As for you two, I might have Brokeback Mountain and Priscilla: Queen of the Desert amongst my collection, but I don't have Tom & Jerry or Jane Fonda's Workout. I do have The Pink Panther boxset, though, and I do covet Inexcuseable's Pump It Up - The Ultimate Dance Workout, but that's only for Juan Pablo Di Pace who 'starred' in it...


Drat! Now I've made myself appear even more camp.




Bugger.

Final Destination

I awoke the next morning to hear the front door creak open. Hooray! I thought. They're off! Sadly, when I got downstairs I discovered that they'd only gone outside for a smoke. How disappointing. However, Tazzy & Piggy's bad habit (one of many), gave me a fabulous idea to get rid of them once and for all...

When they came inside, demanding tea and toast, I suggested another quick tour of the city to see the bits we missed out on the day before. Car agreed to accept them into its interior and chauffeur them around once it heard my plan for Tazzy & Piggy's good riddance.

I cackled to myself as they wolfed down hot buttered toast, washed down with tea. Piggy sat on the settee, his legs dangling, little trotters barely touching the floor as he wrote part one of their take on their time in Norwich.

After a quick stop off at the docks, just so they could see the sight of my alleged 'other occupation', I led them - rubbing my hands together with glee (and also casting a powerful, protective hex around myself at the same time) - to what I hoped would be their final destination:


Norwich Cathedral! It seems our arrival had been foreseen, although we turned up three weeks early...
I stepped over the threshold feeling a not entirely unpleasant stinging, burning sensation - I should've cast a stronger hex. Still, my discomfort was quickly forgotten as I turned to see what would happen to the two dirty, filthy poofs in my wake.
To my horror, they crossed over into the cathedral entirely unscathed! No burning flesh. No bolts of lightning incinerating them. And no giant sandle-wearing animated foot descending from the heavens to squash them! Hmmmph.
Oh well, as we were here, I thought we'd better make the most of it and have a look around.

I would write about the magnificent architecture and all, but I really can't be arsed. I forgot my camera, too, so you'll have to rely on the pics from Piggy & Tazzy's version of events Part Two. If they ever post it.
Anyway, we stopped off in the cathedral shop and laughed at the hideous tat that was on sale. Although, the Yorkshire Poofs actually seemed to like some of it, strangely. What wasn't strange was the consternation they caused. Tazzy bought a Benedictine Monk Bear and said "Cheers, love" to the prim woman behind the counter as she handed it over in a paper bag. Well, she almost keeled over at the shocking 'Oop North' talk. It's a good job there were some Norfolk Lavender smelling salts on hand to revive her. At least Tazzy had the decency to to look ashamed at his lack of decorum.
Piggy, on the other hand, had no qualms about swearing in the refectory and eyeing up a plain-clothes transvestite as we sat having a coffee. At this point however, after nearly 24 hours in his company, I wasn't fazed by it.
I should mention that we nearly didn't make it to the refectory for coffee. It was only one level up, but Piggy insisted on using the lift to get there rather than wear his little legs down even more by tramping up the stairs. Well, we got in the lift, pressed the button and began our ascent. Only for it to shudder to a halt halfway up before plummeting down again. Oh no! I thought. We're on an express-elevator to Hell! We'd been lulled into a false sense of security and now were trapped. Luckily, the lift shuddered to a stop where we first got in and we were able to pile out safely and ascend via the stairs.

And now, thankfully, they're gone. I must admit, it was lovely to meet them in person, especially as they must have been on their best behaviour. There was very little uttering of the cunt-word, no farting (that I heard or smelt, anyway), plenty of blog-gossip and they didn't barge into my bedroom in the middle of the night. Well, not that I recall. If they did, the experience was so horrific that I've managed to blank out the memories.
However, I still haven't dared pull back the duvet on their bed for fear of what horrors lurk beneath. Well, you'd hesitate too if you'd heard their tales of pant-shitting and bed-wetting!



P.S. I've managed to post a picture of T&P on the previous post, now.

Invasion

Perched side-saddle on Broom, I swooped out of the sky, narrowly avoiding the cherry tree's twiggy grasping clutches. Coming to a less than controlled landing on the lawn, I lurched forward in my haste to get into my house via the back door. If only I could reinforce the front door before it was staved in by the combined forces of the bestriped invasion force!

Too late!


Tazzy, looking alarmingly like neapolitan ice-cream in his stripey top, had battered the door down but was evidently not wanting to be first inside my delightful abode. Piggy, wearing a Cheeky Monkey t-shirt (although Moaning Cunt would have been more apt), somehow managed to push Tazzy in, despite his miniscule frame. Once inside, they plumped themselves down and demanded tea.
Contrary to their side of the story, the tea most definitely was not Tesco Value tea. As most of you will know, I only shop in Sainsbury's (Waitrose and M&S if I'm feeling particularly flush), so the tea was Red Label. I don't know if it's good or not as I don't drink tea, despite being British. Well, the odd cup of Earl Grey now and again. And then only when I have my monocle on!

Wanting them out of the house as soon as possible, I suggested a tour of Norwich before tea (the meal, not the drink). Now, the city centre is only a twenty minute walk from my house, but Piggy & Tazzy were adamant that they weren't going to use their stumpy little legs needlessly. So, instead of walking, I had to beg and plead with Car to accept the two interlopers into its plush interior. I couldn't possibly take them into the city on Broom as the poor thing would never have got off the ground! Eventually, Car relented and we were on our way.


Five minutes later and we were in the city centre. Word must have got around that Piggy and Tazzy were visiting as the streets were pretty much deserted. Only tourists remained. And most of those were stupid Americans gawping at the castle.
After a very quick tour (well, it was late on Sunday afternoon so most places were shut) we headed to Mambo Jambo's, one of my favourite restaurants, for a meal. Thankfully, they both behaved themselves so I'll be able to go back and eat there again without resorting to some elaborate disguise.

After the meal, we went home to freshen up before heading out to Norwich's premier gay pub/club: The Castle. In this instance, premier means 'the only one', unless you count the Catherine Wheel. But that's just a small pub and it's not exclusively gay. I hoped beyond hope that Piggy's renowned rudeness would offend a ginormous lesbian who'd pulverise him, enabling me to make my escape home, leaving him to it. Sadly, the monster he dubbed Bully Beef because of her frightful hair, didn't hear his insults and he left the Castle in one piece.

Before I end this post at the end of the first day of Piggy & Tazzy's visit, I think I may have an explanation as to Piggy's tiny nipples. While at the bar in the Castle, the two of them began squabbling. Started by Piggy, of course. Anyway, nipple tweaking ensued (I did not get involved in it, I'm happy to say), but because of Tazzy's greater strength and normal-sized hands (relative to Piggy's elfin trotters), he was the victor, as he is every time I would imagine. So, it's no wonder Piggy's nipples are little more than nubbins now!

Oh, I did take a few pictures, but I'm still working out how to resize & rotate them, so I'll add them later or tomorrow. Hopefully before I post part two.

Premonition

Once upon a time there lived a witch. This witch was not an evil witch, but neither was he particularly good. He went about his business, living his life, and only occasionally meddling in the lives of others, as any witch worth their salt would do.

One bright sunny morning, as the witch was cleaning the precious things in the house, he accidentally rubbed his crystal ball the wrong way with a feather duster. The milky glass orb shimmered into life then cleared, becoming perfectly transparent. The witch was about to switch it back to stand-by mode when movement within it caught his eye.

He squinted into the depths of the crystal and was able to discern two bestriped figures heading towards him. How odd, he said to himself, squinting deeper in an attempt to glean more details. As the image grew closer, the witch had a sense of something porcine and/or marsupial about the two figures.

Suddenly, he gasped in realisation, dropping the crystal ball as his hands flew to his open mouth. The 'ball fell onto the floor with a loud crack. It split open releasing shards of glass and a very faint 'oink'. The witch staggered backwards, his hands desperately weaving a protective spell before him but he knew it was in vain. They would soon be here!




Bugger.