Abaculus

Here I'm going to write a rambling very belated birthday post, because otherwise I'll get nagged to death. Look I was brought up to go to church every Sunday, and the number one emotion that is cultivated: guilt. My lame excuse, I've not felt well for over a week. First it was a sore throat, and now I can't stop shivering.

So this post is going to be superficially centred around loot, which really wouldn't go down well with dad. He's the least materialistic person I know of; more on that another day because really, its deserving of a blog post by itself.

First up is my sister's birthday card.

A card that sums up our relationship very well. When my mum saw it, she was crying with laughter so much that she could not talk for at least half an hour. Sibling rivalry between us was really that hilarious. Count the lines on the sheet, so the other doesn't have more than half of the bed. We did it. Don't you as much as put your toe over that line, because this side of the bed is mine. BOG OFF! Then one of us would do it, just to annoy the other and all hell would break loose. Count the cornflakes in the bowl, just in case your sister was outdoing you? Been there. Tell your sister to touch some stinging nettles, because you could. I did it. Parents' refusal to give us bunk beds, because they had a very good reason to. Rip up homework after spending hours at? My sister did it. Even now, we'll just wind each other up, just to relive old times: [asking our parents] "Who do you love the best?" Mum and dad are now stupid enough to play along, and will usually side with HER. Simply because she lives far far away in America. "See mum/dad loves me more than you," said in as much gloat as one can muster.

The real world has to be a complete doddle by comparison.

Despite all the above, did get these shoes as a present. Which incidentally are the most comfortable shoes I've worn for a long time. A sure sign of old age: stuff looks, go for comfort.

Moving on. E, P, J and C brought me some massage vouchers! ::bounce:: Its a long time since I've had a massage, I'm talking years and years. In fact, I don't think I've ever had a professional massage, unless you include the massage course I attended back in 1995, which doesn't really count. Neither does several visits to an osteopath due to a parachuting injury, the physiotherapist because of a RTA, the trial Indian Head massage, or reflexology. I love water, and traditionally spas is what I've always gone for. However, I'm totally up for some tactile treatment, believe me my shoulder needs it. No doubt I'm going to be nagged to death, and I will be on my merry way.

JHB turned up in Wales a couple of weeks ago to dress up, where I felt way too old.

When you're 18 you know half the party, at my age you don't. I did see a couple of relatives, here's one (I failed to recognise him at first, do you blame me?) with mum:

As previously seen in this blog post. See, I'm related to crazy people, and people who would be terribly proud to admit it.

JHB turned up armed with a wrapped up box; and threats all evening that he was going to take the said box back, should I not stop going around the town squirting everyone with a water pistol. And more specifically him, read: his, water pistol. I mean, hand me an exciting toy and I'm going to max out on it; even if it does include squirting Lembit. Hello, euphoria! The water pistol did encounter a sudden death. Cause: the bottom of my dad's shoe.

Possibly because of this, I got to keep the said wrapped box, and it contained the first series of West Wing, w00t! Several days later, he said, "Giving you the West Wing was supposed to be for entertainment not a career guide, you off to be the pollster for the White House now?" I've only watched the first disc so far, because I've really been junking out on American TV of the late, via my dvd rentals. British comedy, what's that? I'll give you my verdict when I've finished the first series, but one thing I will say. I'm cursing this present. Do I really need to feel obligated to get through yet another American TV series? I'm certainly playing catch up here, for a decade of missed television.

J and C also brought me a Crazy Cat Lady action figure. I saw this online a few months ago, and immediately started praying that J would not stumble on it. Obviously it didn't work. Prayer is now on par with the Fail Whale. If J saw, I knew exactly what would happen, i.e. it would be another excuse just to rib me, and I was right. Apparently, as well eccentric, I'm the Crazy Cat Lady. Let it be known I've never owned a cat in my life. That is the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and so help me God you did not. I just happen to be around other people's cats. That I cannot help, and for some reason moggies have set it their mission in life to just bug me. So, there. Ner, ner. In the meantime, I now have an outlet for related frustration.

Fast forward to this week, I got a newspaper in the post. Shudder at the thought, and yes I did laugh. Birthday pranks! My immediate thought, "Someone has been raiding my Flickr account". I really should know better than to put pictures of me on The Internet!

The story contained a piece of information that only two of my friends are aware of, one more with it than the other.

"J - would you care to explain oneself?"
"WASN'T ME!!"

Immediately insinuating association, and asserting an evil master collaboration going on. See, I didn't even have to go into detail here. Great. J knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"E?"
"E is not the only person who knows of xxxx evils"
"I've not talked to anyone else about xxxx evils. You're my partner in crime, we had a discussion with E. That's it?!"
"Think"

Before I go on with this story, let it be known I was awake the previous night until ~4am, trying to sort out a server which was down a few hours. Not something I could postpone until the next day, as a few business websites are hosted on it. Read: the next day my head was not functioning, and in the last position to deal with cryptic.

So this mind twisting as to who sent me such an evil present, goes on for hours and hours. A process of elimination. Bugging friends, however they were just going along with the evil plan. I drag Twitter into it, sending various random people into confusion. Then I question Ce:

"Newspaper"
"What about it?"
"What [do] you have to say for [your]self?"
"No idea what you [are] talking about"
[Explains]
"And [I] am on [the] case as to who sent it"
"Ah so that's what your twit[ter] message was about. Looked at it earlier thought mm what she on!"
"Its annoying me, immediately i thought it was J. Then thought E. No apparently, so thought I'd try you"
"Well its a no sorry"
"I need to figure out who sent it"
"T is now at the top of my list of suspects, since you deny it"
"Does it matter?"
"I would like to thank them for annoying me!"
"But imagine though u a prime minister!"
"LOL - FFS! You sure you didn't send?"
"LOL at the wine abolishment thing! Sounds like something you would do!"
"Apparently xxxxx is my best friend. That's J all over, to include that"

So this conversation goes on for what must be hours. I'm getting more and more frustrated. Then it takes an evil turn where Ce starts winding me up confusing me (big time) about something else entirely. Concerning my e mail address and some prank from last year. Lets not go there. You either know the story or you don't. Apparently it was a clue, hinting at more continued frolicsome antics. Except I didn't see it, because my head was totally mush.

So, Ce lied. She was wholly responsible for that newspaper prank, with assistance from my receptionist.

As annoying as the people in my life can be, and it pains me to say this: I'm extremely lucky. :)