Category Archives: Trivial nonsense

Cats are naturally ego friendly and so are cat hair crafts

I know a lot of us here (me excluded since my entire family and husband are all allergic to fur, sensitive souls) have fur babies. I also know from reading your blogs, as well more generally sensing it through the interwaves, that you are a crafty bunch. Well ladies you can thank me later, I found you this.

How did I live 31 years and 352 days (yes this is a hint for presents) and not know that crafting with cat hair was a thing?

Reading reviews on Amazon is one of my favourite past times. Here are some of my favourite reviews from Crafting with Cat Hair:

“I thought this was disappointing and wondered why there weren’t more “real” cat hair projects (like rings, bracelets and other small items)”

I don’t know girls, maybe the more serious cat lovers out there can shed some light on this, but cat fur jewellery? I remain unconvinced and slightly itchy at the thought.

Great book but my wife didn’t appreciate it as a birthday present and hasn’t made me anything.”

Oh Derek, this is sad. I bet Derek spent years surrounded by malting cats, fur piling up around his chair. He would pick up the fur balls and let them run through his fingers, shivering with cold from the draughty windows in his ineffectual, fraying aged cardigan. He would huddle round his small coal fire and shake his head at the waste of all that lovely cosy cat fur. Then finally, FINALLY he finds this book and buys it for his dear wife for her birthday. Shame on you Derek’s wife. Shame. On. You.

“‘Crafting with Cat Hair’ was originally written in Japanese. It is therefore the product of another culture, and this should be taken into account before laughing at it… In a Western context, then, this book might best be viewed as providing an insight into Japanese feminine crafting traditions rather than an introduction to a hobby that anyone would seriously consider taking up.”

Okay, I feel bad now. I am also judging Japanese feminine crafters which is making me feel even worse.

A happy story to end on:

“Now I fill my days creating wonderful finger puppets from genuine cat fur and I have the pleasure of sharing my hobby with the world. I show my creations to strangers on the bus (although I’m quite unlucky in that I always decide to show my puppets to people who are getting off at the next stop)”

Melts my heart. After my crafting with cat hair revelation, I went down the internet rabbit hole and ended up at taxidermy. Taxidermy is officially my new favourite thing. Gonna put this bad boy on my birthday list.

I don’t want to leave those of you with fur baby pooches out, so here you go.

According to the latest happy owner of Knitting with Dog Hair: Better a Sweater from a Dog You Know and Love Than from a Sheep You’ll Never Meet, “this is a fantastic book for all those people who prefer their own ‘home-grown’ products”. Now as you know, I have an allotment and am all about growing my own fruit and veg. I am not so sure about growing my own dog hair for clothes. What about you?

BB xx

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Belated Christmas review

Our car wouldn’t start on Christmas Eve. If you have ever seen our car this may not come as a surprise to you. Last time we went to the IVF clinic the exhaust pipe fell off, the indicator box is currently held in place with duct tape, it only has 1 hub cap left, the AC is broken/never worked in the first place and the heater only works on one setting (The Sun). For reasons unknown it didn’t used to go into third gear but this has mysteriously resolved itself. It also doesn’t have a boot shelf anymore because we accidentally left it in a car park once (long story).

You know those people who say “don’t put off ’til tomorrow things that you can do today”? We laugh in the face of those people, so when we needed to leave on the morning of Christmas Eve we still had to finish the mince pies we had been tasked with baking as well as wrap presents and pack. So of course, in the way these things tend to go, the car wouldn’t start.

Then you guys, two Christmas miracles happened.

1. A neighbour filled with the Christmas spirit came forth from their house and jump started our car… and it worked! Christmas Miracle Number One! The bad news was that this meant Mr B had to drive around aimlessly to charge the battery.

2. This further meant I had to finish the mince pies on my own… and they looked like mince pies. Another Christmas miracle! (Side note, the Christmas cake was cut and people ate it. Actually, now I come to think of it, the only people I had visual confirmation of were my Mum and Mr B. Maybe I won’t audition for Bake Off just yet).

One of the best presents I received for Christmas was a telescopic back scratcher*. Behold:

And fully extended:

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*incidentally, I get an itchy back every time I look at the back scratcher. Does it have that power through the internet? OOH, I KNOW, I will do a poll. This is my first ever poll. I’m glad it is for something so important.

My feet looking like sexy beasts in my new slippers:

My Christmas review has a sad ending this year as our car never made it back home again. Bye bye rust bucket, sorry I left mouldy bread in the door for the last 3 months.

I know well that Christmas is not a fun holiday for an infertile. It certainly never has been for me. I reached breaking point last Christmas and refused to do anything or see anyone I didn’t want to (everything, everyone) and spent the entire duration drunk and sad. Looking back to my blog post last year I described myself as in hell with my arse glued to the floor. (Reading it back there is also a medium to high chance I was drunk at the time.) So to all my infertility sisters who ended this year still stuck in the trenches with no end in sight, I am sending you some love and wine, and flipping the bird to 2014 for you. May 2015 show us all some love.

BB xx

Christmas cake update & even more

Yo babes.

I’ve done loads of cleaning this last week. The fact that this is news is an indication of the level of clean my house usually enjoys. Other things:

1. Christmas “cake” update: I have attempted to deflect attention from the undercooked “cake” with an intricate marzipan decoration. We will see how this pans out probably in January when someone gets round to releasing it from its greaseproof paper and foil chamber.

2. I bought Mr B some new work shirts. Here are a couple of my favourite reviews during my research (review reading is fast becoming my new favourite hobby):

“I can say that the shirts have not lasted well. When the sleeves have been folded up in the summer due to the heat, if you are not careful you can easily put your elbow through the fabric and tear it – as others have said – … Be very careful if folding the sleeves up.”

Those damn shirts with weak elbows. I’ll have to remember to tell Mr B to be careful when rolling his sleeves up. It’s *so* annoying when your man comes home with holes in his shirt because his elbows bust out of them *again*.

“The shirt is lovely but all the buttons fell off within 20 minutes. This resulted in me spending an hour in the bathroom of the office trying to sew them back on.”

If all the buttons fell off my new shirt in 20 minutes I would not describe the shirt as “lovely”, I would describe it as “shit”.

3. For the first time in my life I have used vacuum packed bags for storage. Oh my days. How did I not discover these sooner? They vacuum stuff, like, well small. What was once a mountain of spare bedding is now a shiny, rock hard, 2 ton nugget under my bed.

4. Amazon prime. You order stuff one day and it arrives the next day… even on a Sunday. Amazon prime has a lot to answer for (vacuum pack bags, a bumper pack of magic erasers and several packages for Mr B which I strongly suspect are Playstation games and CDs, to name a few).

5. Magic erasers. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. You need them in your life. Those bitches are MAGIC.

6. I couldn’t sleep last night and I decided to get up and measure the circumference of my head. According to FACT (google), the average human head circumference is 53 cm in females and 57 cm in males. My head circumference is 57cm. The fuck.

BB xx

Gone fishing

Holiday o’clock tomorrow. 10 days of sunshine, swimming in the sea, eating fine foods and cocktails awaits me. Obviously, I’d rather be pregnant and puking my face off in the toilet at home while it rains and thunders outside, but going on holiday is a close(ish) second I guess.

I’ve had an uneventful couple of weeks I won’t bore you with (you’re welcome). Minor incident in the swimming pool when for reasons unknown, I burst into tears during my 46th length and choked on water. Left the pool shame faced and sobbed in the changing rooms. Wondering if I am suppressing my mental a little too hard so it’s only method of escape is through dramatic, sudden outbursts of madness? Anyways, holiday nails, new holiday dresses and new holiday make up took the edge of that.

Don’t tell Mr B about all the holiday purchases will you? Oh, and don’t tell him I just downloaded 9 books onto my kindle either.

It’s Mr B’s birthday while we are away and for more reasons unknown, I have bought him a PS4. Goodbye marriage.

I got ID’d buying wine this week. Score.

I have eaten approximately 5,347 courgettes. Turns out that although I am a crap breeder, I can grow a lot of courgettes. My allotment is basically a courgette farm. Other exciting allotment news is that we have had salad (bucket loads), raspberries, strawberries, redcurrents, blueberries, turnips, beetroot, onions, potatoes and radishes. The onions have become caramelised balsamic red onion chutney and onion marmalade. I pickled the beetroot and we are slowly working our way through a metric ton of potatoes. Soon we will have peas, parsnips, sweetcorn, butternut squash, blackberries and apples. The fennel is clinging onto life despite being savaged by rabbits, but I fear the purple sprouting broccoli has gone the way of the bean plant and been eaten. I blame the pigeons. Fat bastards.

Some veggies for your eyes:

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Chutney making evidence:

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I walk past these wild flowers every day. Fields and fields of them. Pretty.

Well, fancy that. Turns out I did bore you with my uneventful couple of weeks after all.

Keep out of trouble while I’m away, ladies.

BB xx

Swimming rules

Still alive, yo. I mean, I am really, really dreadfully miserable, lost and poor, but I’ll spare you the details. Instead I’m going to tell you about my health kick – I copied Jenn and joined MyFitnessPal so if you want to stalk me and see what I’m doing and eating, be my guest. I am not lying on there about my current alcohol consumption (high) so judge me at your peril.

I decided that if I can’t have children, I really need to at least be skinny so I have restarted swimming, which along with walking and hiking is the only exercise I have any sticking power with. For reasons unknown I have also purchased a skipping rope.

Let’s get this straight. I am a proper swimmer. A goggles on, freestyle/front crawl, Olympian Swimmer. I also quite fancy myself as a champion breaststroker, but that sounds wrong so maybe I shouldn’t say that. Anyway, I swim properly, by which I mean I get my head down and my hair wet and I do actual exercise.

I DO NOT do the following, unlike an estimated 65% of the pool population at any one given time:

1. Waft my arms and legs gently under the water in no way resembling any swimming stroke known to man and slowly (very slowly) float down the pool. I am 99% certain that most of these people only move from one end of the pool to the other riding on the waves of the other people actually swimming around them.

2. Swim (or more usually, float very slowly) diagonally across the whole pool.

3. Walk half way down the pool whilst continuing to do breaststroke arms so it still looks like I am swimming.

Other things that are true, but apparently unknown by everyone else in the pool:

1. Aggressively splashing when you swim DOES NOT make you go faster. It’s like, physics innit. You are wasting energy with all that stupid splashing, you look like an idiot, and it is making you go more slowly. It is also annoying. Stop.

2. “Swim clockwise” when written at the end of a lane means, swim clockwise. It DOES NOT mean swim anti-clockwise. It DOES NOT mean swim in pairs/walk whilst wafting your arms and take up the whole lane chatting. It DOES NOT mean swim down the middle of the lane.

3. “Fast” lane is for fast people, “slow” lane is for slow people, and “medium” lane is somewhere in between.

4. The fast lane is NOT for slow people. It is also NOT for the LOVE OF GOD for doing handstands in, you massive, massive dickwad.

5. The medium lane is almost always quieter and faster than the fast lane. Apart from the days when there is a Wafter in there. Incidentally, I had a really good swim just before Christmas in the medium lane with a man who was very evenly matched with my swimming ability. We swam our lengths in perfect harmony. It was like synchronised swimming, ballet and classical music all at the same time. Then a Wafter got in. Without speaking, the man and I combined our swimming prowess and stealth bullied her out of the lane in less than 10 minutes. Sigh. Where is he now?

6. You MUST NOT do backstroke in the swimming lanes unless you have eyes in the back of your head, or you are an Olympic champion.

7. You MUST NOT do butterfly. Ever, anywhere, and definitely not anywhere near me.

Things that I will do if you break these rules:

1. If you swim slowly in front of me and you are not in the right place (ie the slow lane, or the general pool) I will give you a head start. Then I will catch you up and tickle your feet all the way to the end of the lane. If you don’t get the hint, I will overtake you and splash a lot of water in your face. Not sorry. Learn to read. Or swim.

2. If you don’t know what “swim clockwise” means, I will swim directly at you and run you down. These people are usually the Priority-Keep-My-Hair-Dry Wafters so I find that aggressively swimming straight at them freestyle causes them to panic and move. I don’t think they realise you can see where you are going doing freestyle, which works a treat. I am the pool cat amongst the stupid lazy pool pigeons.

3. I am not going to say what is going to happen to the handstand man next time I see him. I am highly suspicious that Handstand Man and Butterfly Man are one and the same moron.

Finally, to the man swimming entire pool lengths at the bottom of the pool, you do not look clever, it’s just weird you are swimming underneath people. To the lady I crashed into yesterday, I am not really sorry, I did it on purpose. To the man who drifts diagonally across the whole pool on his back, I am going to tether you to the side next time I see you and other people will help me do it.

I feel a bit better now, thanks!

BB xx

How do you pee on yours?

If you’ve been a long time reader of my blog (well done!) you already know that I fancy myself as a writer, as well as just generally fancying myself. I was chatting to one of my favourite all time general legends @duffeddream about the new advert for a popular brand of digital pregnancy tests when I had an idea for their next advert (call me, popular brand). I am going to market it at Easter with the Creme Egg adverts. It’s called, “How Do You Pee On Yours?” I am not sure if Creme Eggs are a thing in America, or if they have the same advert. I suppose I could find out, but I’m too busy*.

How Do You Pee On Yours?

CAMERAS ROLL AND ADVERT BEGINS IN THE SAME SETTING, WITH TWO BEAUTIFUL LADIES DRESSED IN CASHMERE JUMPERS SAT AT A TABLE HAVING COFFEE IN A LIGHT AIREY HOUSE WITH LOTS OF WHITE AND PEACE AROUND THEM.

If you haven’t viewed the vomit-inducing current advert yet, now is the time to experience it here

HOWEVER, it will go like this instead:

Silly woman: I have something to tell you!

Silly Woman whips out pregnancy test from under the table. The whole audience gasps, hoping it was pre-prepared peed-on-stick and not just freshly done under the table

Friend: Oh really?

Friend puts on a well-practiced fake quizzical look since she already deduced from the phone conversation prior to coffee what was on the agenda with her friend who got married four long weeks ago.

Silly woman: I’m pregnant!

Friend: Wow. Just, wow!

Friend covers face seemingly overwhelmed with excitement, whilst actually rolling her eyes sarcastically to the heavens and quietly cursing

Friend: So, how many weeks are you? Do you have a scan picture to show me?

Silly woman: God no! I’m 2 weeks… LOOK! IT SAYS SO ON MY PREGNANCY TEST! Here, look at it.

Silly woman jubilantly thrusts the test into Friend’s hand

Friend: Thank you.

Friend locks eyes with Silly Woman and takes hold of the pee stick. She flashes the 1-2 weeks panel to the camera. Never losing eye contact with Silly Woman, she holds the test steady in her left hand and slowly slides her right hand across to the sugar bowl. With long, delicate fingers she carefully extracts a sugar lump and plops it into Silly Woman’s coffee. With a quick side look to camera, she casually stirs the sugar in with the pee stick.

Silly Woman starts shouting and creating, but thankfully the horrible sound fades out and we zoom into Friend’s face which blurs all hazy ‘cos this advert is tres high tech.

FLASHBACK to all the times friend has POAS:

– In the office loo at work (negative)
– Into a cup, before dipping at home (negative)
– Onto her hand, onesie, floor and walls trying to free style POAS at home directly onto the test (negative)
– Messily onto a cheapo test you are supposed to dip just before heading out for works drinks (negative and time for some booze)
– Into a challengingly slim plastic tube at the hospital (ectopic)
– Onto 15 tests a day during IVF (miscarriage)
– Swearing profusely after accidentally peeing on a very expensive popular brand digital whilst intending to pee on an ovulation test (negative, OBVIOUSLY)

CUT BACK TO THE HORROR COFFEE MORNING

Silly Woman stalks out of the house leaving Friend stood at the door.

Camera pans back to Friend stood in the door way with a wry smile on her face. She turns to the camera and shrugs, throwing the Silly Woman’s pee stick into the bin

Friend: (staring challengingly into the camera) How do you pee on yours?

THE END

I think that marketing pregnancy tests to infertiles is a definite winner. We are desperate; we POAS all the time. All the time. All. The. Time.

In other boring news about myself, I had a few administrative issues with my clinic that I hope to God I have fixed because if I haven’t, I’m delayed again by at least another month. Sigh. I won’t bore you with the details. My pre-op appointment is tomorrow, polyp/scar tissue removal the week after, Zoladex injection the week after that and then fingers, toes, eyes crossed, starting stims end January. I am hoping that’s the way it goes all down, but I have learnt a great deal from my previous experiences and I now have no expectations whatsoever.

I have also updated my It Looks Like A Penis page. The geoduck (google it, go on google it now!) is simultaneously the worst and best thing I have ever seen in my life.

BB xx

*lazy

Pumpkin Smackdown 2013 – the prizes!

Whoo hoo! Prizes!

All the champions have won a prize, as well as glory and honour. Oh yes. The prizes may or may not contain Official Smackdown 2013 Memorabilia.

If you have yet to do so, you will need to email me (or FD), or DM me on Twitter with the address you would like your prize to be sent. Once we have sent them we will destroy all knowledge of your whereabouts, even from our minds. Unfortunately, due to the pressures of Pumpkin Smackdown and also the depressing series of events that have recently occurred to me, I am about to go on holiday. As I am Pumpkin Smackdown Coordinator Supreme this will mean a short delay in the prizes being sent out. Sorry about that.

I am frantically trying to get myself ready for holiday now since instead of packing, getting foreign currency and finding my passport I’ve just pissed about all week with pumpkins.

I hope you all behave yourselves while I am away and I look forward to both sending out your Smackdown prizes and catching up on all your news on my return.

BB xx