Sunday, 31 January 2010

This time belongs to me (and me alone)

This is not a coincidence -
a week of non-stop nausea, children, things to do, no time to myself, a day off creche, a day off school -
and now I am sitting here, in the middle of the night. (Again.)

I watch several episodes of Law & Order: Criminal Intent on the crime channel (having just discovered the charms of Vincent D'Onofrio) and I eat miniature Snickers in spite of the slight burned taste (because I only had one big one and I ate it).

I know I will regret this in the morning when we go for a long walk with friends, and tomorrow night when I have a four hour choir rehearsal.

But oh how sweet is that time in the middle of the night when I have nothing to do, no one to answer to, and all the time in the world. So very very sweet.

Friday, 29 January 2010

Alcohol and sugar, sugar and alcohol

  • I'm stuck in the house (actually, pigsty) with one sick girl and one boy probably sick by tomorrow, and all I can think is "I would kill for a gin and tonic." I'm thinking it so much I am getting a headache. Or that could be because of the shouty children's TV. (Judge all you want. We had fruit!)
    So, this gin and tonic... I can probably have it in about a year's time. Yeah, that should help with the headache. Actually, when I was pregnant with Marie I had a big gulp of someone else's the night before I gave birth to her. It was so good I still remember the sensation.
  • In the absence of my beloved G&T, or Chardonnay, or a good old beer, I have Snickers. Not as good, I know, but it will have to do for the time being. Now I have a most existential question when it comes to Snickers: how come the big ones are delicious, and the small ones taste slightly burned? There must be some flaw in the Snicker-condensing-formula they use to make the teeny ones, but they're just not the same. Maybe it's something to do with the relative size of nut vs. outer chocolate casing. It may work better for the bigger casing.
    While I'm on this topic, I also have a complaint about Maltesers. It's a similar but much more nonsensical problem. The Maltesers in the big pack are delicious. The ones in the small pack? Not so much. But the bloody things are the same size! So no Malteser-condensing-formula can be ruining my pleasure. Maybe they make the small packs in a different factory. They should get their acts together, these Malteser folks.
  • As you can tell, my sugar addiction is back with a vengeance. I had pretty much weaned myself off that addictive substance, but then I hit morning sickness, and what is a girl to do? I can't drink anything just now, apart from sparkling water and Pepsi! I've only had three glasses of the devil's liquid in total in the last couple of weeks, and still I sit here thinking I might go out and buy some. (I won't.) 
  • I'm just one big chunk of longing today. (Not only for food and drink.)

Thursday, 28 January 2010

I'm wearing my "fat skirt"

Jack, this morning:
Mama, is that a tablecloth?
You look like you're wearing a tablecloth.
Did you mean to be funny?

Wednesday, 27 January 2010

Pregnancy (with photo) and poo (without photo for once)

Okay, I'm going to do a pregnancy post anyway. I promise not to go on about it all the time, but it can't be all gay porn all the time, you know. Besides, I like reading about other pregnancies so I thought I would join in.

I will do bullet points. Bullet points are so comforting to me, and so helpful to you. (By the way - on a completely unrelated topic - can you catch bad breath? I just talked to someone with bad breath for an hour and now I have the memory of the odour in my mouth. I'd better not have caught it. I suppose in theory you could, as it's bacterial. Yuck! I'm going to have a random selection of sweet stuff now, just to be sure.)
  • My first trimester is nearly over and thank fuck for that. I'm still gagging a bit throughout the day, and I threw up this morning, but at least I have some energy back, and I am so grateful. At least I don't want to sleep every single second any more.
    I managed to drive for the required hour to see An today, so all is well with the world again. I nearly fell asleep while driving, but nearly is not all the way so hooray.
  • Another reason all is well? My poo is back! Nauseous and constipated is just too much of a good thing. Now I'm regular again, and I'm thinking of having a party.
  • My thyroid went a bit hyper according to my doctor, and that's said to make you "nervous and tired." Which for me translated into "negative and exhausted." I've now decided to stop thinking everything possible is wrong with the baby.
  • I have a bump picture. I know it's not very original, so I promise not to do this too often.



    Did you notice how I cunningly removed the wattle from the photo, but kept the boots? I realise that is a very thick jumper, but the bump could use the help.
  • Because of this huge bump, I can't sleep on my stomach any more, so I'm hardly sleeping at all, and I have a crick in my neck, which is a real pain in the neck. (Not funny from where I'm sitting, but then probably not from where you're sitting either.)
  • My mood has been going all over the place. I've been trying to compensate for the children, by playing with them a lot and giving them good attention, but I think I've not managed completely.
    This morning, I was talking to Jack after I had been a impatient with him at the breakfast table:
    Me: Sorry I've been a bit difficult this morning.
    Jack: This morning? Don't you mean this week?
    Ouch. Luckily he didn't seem too bothered.
  • And then there's all of you, my lovely lovely internet friends. Marie's naptime used to be my quiet internet time, but now it has turned into a joint naptime, which means I am permanently behind on my reader. Please don't think I'm ignoring you - I will get there eventually. It just takes me a couple of days sometimes.
Right. I think that's my first trimester recap. I'm looking forward to the second trimester, because the two previous times I loved being pregnant as soon as food stopped being the enemy.

Tuesday, 26 January 2010

Gay Porn part VI: Bob Lady and Little Princess fight back

I think I've let our actors stew in their own juices for long enough. Here they are, back by popular demand, for one night only:


Yes, my darlings, our favourite movie actresses are back, and they are determined to show us all that they are much better suited to star in my gay remakes of movie classics than Bumba and Bumbalu.

They have focused lately on their undisputed advantage in this fight: flexibility. Bumba and Bumbalu, as we all know, are rather "stiff" (and for once I'm not alluding to their side line in pornography), while Bob Lady and Little Princess are bendier in all directions. They have adapted all their publicity stills so that they always show them in action and moving at least one body part (i.e. doing all the things Bumba and Bumbalu find impossible). Here's the front of their publicity book now. See them waving all smugly:



Now compare this to Bumba and Bumbalu. These poor things are not exactly Bolshoi Ballet material:





The first choice of movie scene Bob Lady and Little Princess made was, sneakily, one Bumba and Bumbalu also reenacted for us last time: the diner scene from When Harry Met Sally. Remember they spared no expense, renting extras by the dozen and finding a good location? Bob Lady and Little Princess didn't think any of this was necessary, being so sure of themselves. In fact, they never even bothered to make a video. All they sent in was this photo of themselves, sitting at the very same table as their colleagues, bending their legs. Methinks they are getting a little ahead of themselves.



Next up, a scene from Bonnie and Clyde. At least they bothered to find a location and act out the scene. The point they are clearly making, though, is that they are able to hold guns. (As opposed to - well, you know who.)



The ultimate in flexibility is obviously dancing, so that is what they did next. I have to say they didn't do too badly in this scene from Saturday Night Fever. I was pleasantly surprised at Bob Lady's dancing in particular.



Finally, the ladies had one more trick up their sleeves. Thinking there's nothing Meryl Streep can do that Bob Lady can't do better, they redid the movie poster from Death Becomes Her (Little Princess is playing the part of Bruce Willis):



Yes, that's Bob Lady's back, and yes, that's her face, too. Creepy, isn't it? I think they went one step too far here - Who wants to see that, right? - although admittedly that's not something Bumba or Bumbalu could match.

Well, at the end of this I'm not too sure. Bob Lady and Little Princess definitely move more gracefully, but then Bumba and Bumbalu have better on-screen chemistry. They have also proven themselves in their feature length version of Brokeback Mountain, while Bob Lady and Little Princess have only small parts on their CV. On the other hand, the boys have been rather busy cashing in on their fame on the porn circuit, making them less marketable than they were before.

I can't decide what to do next. These actors keep phoning me at all hours of the day, sending me gifts and trying to reach me through my friends and family. They're just too much hard work to deal with. I've had it with the backstabbing (of each other) and the sucking up (to me). Maybe I should just go into animation instead.

Monday, 25 January 2010

My secret is out

So my father now has the address of this blog (Hi, there, pa!) and I had the following posts planned for the rest of the week:
  • Gay Porn part VI
  • Conception: a how-to
  • I'm pregnant now, but I won't stop snorting cocaine (just kidding)
I will just remember that
  1. I didn't get my foul mouth and dubious sense of humour from a stranger.
  2. I can just pretend he's not reading it by making the helpful voices in my head sing "LALALA" very loudly to drown out the other ones.
  3. He probably won't even read this. He's a very busy man, you know.
So, business as usual at Casa de Mwa.
(Hi, pa, make yourself at home!)

Friday, 22 January 2010

It's a baby!

So I'm pregnant!!!

Tonight we had our 12 week scan, and I swear the gynaecologist was on drugs. He had our baby up on the monitor (hands, feet, face, body - all there, all perfect) and was raving about how this was the most beautiful sight ever seen, a baby becoming a person. He went on and on. When I started to laugh (I think he was trying to be funny as well as profound) and my belly shook, he took two still pictures of the baby in quick succession, in slightly different poses. He then alternated between the two different pictures very quickly, making the baby "talk" and giggled "Hey mama, hey daddy, I'm going to be such a good baby, I'll never be naughty." Freaky. But also nice, because I was very tense when I went into the appointment, and very happy coming out.

I'm so glad I can finally tell you all about the pregnancy! I had an agreement with Babes I wouldn't say anything until today, and I kept it, but it has been really tough. So many topics were out of bounds, as I didn't want to be even slightly untruthful. Anyway, there it is. And top marks to screamish for guessing way, way, way before I had even an inkling.

Thursday, 21 January 2010

A beautiful wedding

Erika at Be Gay About It has started a new project, BGAI Together, in which she asks for positive stories about LGBT people to counteract discrimination and abuse. I love reading her blog (it's fabulous), but I didn't feel this call was meant for me. I changed my mind last night, when the lovely Bethany blogged about the election of that stinky Republican in Massachusetts and feeling so shaken by the happy reactions around her. It made me realise that it really is my business and your business and all of our business to write about marriage equality and to stand up against discrimination and general unfairness and bigotry.

I have been hugely overestimating some of the people in this world. Living in my little cocoon, I thought we were getting somewhere, and boy am I wrong. I should have known better, really, living in "liberal" Belgium and hearing all the ignorant and offensive things some people here still dare to say, even in the face of their gay friends. (I realise I'm probably preaching to the converted in my little corner of the internet.)

Because we've had marriage equality in Belgium since 2003 and this seems to be a hot topic in many places just now, I thought I would share the story of a gay wedding I attended a couple of years ago. It was the wedding of two lovely, lovely friends of mine.

Here's the thing, people: while it was beautiful and gorgeous and very very moving, it really was a perfectly ordinary wedding. There were concerns about the weather (with several untimely downpours). The ceremony was achingly beautiful. One of the grooms cried, the other tried to keep a stiff upper lip but barely managed. There was some family tension. The reception was a garden affair (luckily they got a tent). People drank champagne. There were lovely things to eat. Everyone dressed up and had a great time. A perfectly ordinary (and beautiful) wedding.

Did God smite us all in anger for being there? No. Does my own (straight) marriage feel any less valuable as a result? No. Quite to the contrary, I would say, because now I no longer feel that by being married we are taking part in a practice that discriminates against other people. I would say the institution of marriage in this country has become more valuable for being more inclusive.

My son Jack has been to two weddings (that he remembers) in his life. One between a man and a woman, and one between two men. I'm so glad that he can be shown rather than told that love is love and who cares about the particulars. And to start with, I thought that his generation would grow up seeing the world fundamentally differently. I have now given up that idea for the time being. He may have been to a gay wedding, and I may be trying to teach him the "right things," but he's all too aware of society's stereotypes of what boys and girls "should" do. And he knows that a gay wedding does not fit this preset mold.

But at least we have marriage equality. Babysteps are better than no steps at all, right?

Wednesday, 20 January 2010

A joke

Here's a joke I like:

Snow White and Pinocchio are in bed together when Snow White goes to sit on his face and says: "Lie to me, Pinocchio!"

(With thanks to my favourite Flemish quiz show host.)

Tuesday, 19 January 2010

Obama is my secret boyfriend

I have taken delivery of some ear porn.

A few months ago, I heard a programme about Barack Obama's mother on Radio 4. I found it very interesting, so I have embedded it here for die-hard Obama lovers:



Anyway, one of the things that struck me in this programme was that all excerpts from Obama's own autobiography, Dreams from my Father, were read out by the good man himself! It's a shame that I'd already read that book, but after a little research I found out he had written and then read out a whole other book, The Audacity of Hope.



It came in the mail today, from my darling Amazon. I'm hoping it's not too dry and political. And I'm also hoping I will still like Barack Obama, after six hours of political theory whispered (more likely forcefully declaimed) into my ear. I have already transferred all five CDs onto my little iPod, and am planning to start listening to him tonight. Ah, I can finally take my imaginary boyfriend to my bed!

I am a bit worried, though. His autobiography - fine. Lovely inspirational story, told by lovely inspirational man. This one? I'm not entirely sure I want to spend 41.9 minutes listening to the chapter called "Our constitution," especially considering this is not even my constitution. And then I haven't even mentioned the 33.3 minutes on "Faith." We'll see. I do love a dry documentary on the radio, especially when it's about politics. So I'm giving it a chance. (I lie - I'm looking forward to it.) I still wish I hadn't read Dreams from my Father yet.

A funny thing: on the back of the CD box, it gives this description:
BARACK OBAMA is the junior U. S. senator from Illinois. He lives in Chicago with his wife, Michelle, and two daughters, Sasha and Malia.
Oh, how his life has changed since. Freakily, I also think this means that not enough people are such Obama fans that they would order this CD box, because they haven't reissued it since his meteoric rise to fame. Strange or what?

Monday, 18 January 2010

Three degrees of shitty

Not shitty at all:
My little adventure in the world of international bank fraud seems like it will have a swift and satisfactory resolution. My local bank and police people have been lovely and helpful. I have one more visit to make to the police station, but after that we should be reimbursed fully and promptly. Well, that's what I'm hoping anyway.

The criminals seem to be a well-organised gang because I have not been to the States in years, but that's where they took out the money. My card and pin were probably copied at a petrol station over here, and the details then used in the US.



Medium shitty:

Marie is sick but not sick. She has a temperature of over 38 degrees, so she's not allowed to go to the creche, but she is singing, talking, and unloading the toy cupboards. My sacred child-free Monday has been hijacked by a two year old. I don't actually mind too much - she's being lovely. Now if I could just get her to take a long nap...



Really very shitty:
Our stupid cats don't know the difference between snow and earth. They are generally quite clean considering they're filthy animals, but now the snow has melted and this has surfaced:



They dug a hole, did their business, covered the hole. Fail!
(I know - I'm too good for including another picture of poo, but admit that's what you were waiting for.)

Friday, 15 January 2010

Fraud!

Someone just took nearly 3500 dollars out of our bank account. Without asking! The fucking cheek. It was in US dollars, so I'm blaming a faceless American. I phoned up the bank and told them about this. They agree this looks like fraud, but they can't tell me if I'm getting my money back or not, and how long the process would take.

They better not blame this on me, I tell you. I lost a bank card a couple of months ago and went into the bank to get a replacement. I asked them about ten times if I needed to cancel it as well, and they assured me this would happen automatically if I ordered a new one. They better not tell me now it was that card.

Also - how many people can manage for an "indefinite amount of time" without 3500 dollars? We are overdrawn, obviously, and they had better pay the charges back as well. And I was going to the sales tomorrow. Bummer.
 
(I'm so terrified they will refuse to pay this back.)
(The ironic thing? We only found out when we tried to send money to Haiti. Will do that anyway. Please don't comment on that - I just wanted to mention it in support of the aid effort in Haiti.)

Thursday, 14 January 2010

Why won't it just do the decent thing and die?

We have a bit of a problem over here.

Normally, Belgian Christmas tree management is a very straightforward affair. You go out sometime in the middle of December, pick a tree and lug it home. You decorate it, hoover needles for a few weeks until it turns brown, then put the tree on the pavement to get collected by a special council truck. The truck then takes your tree to the special Christmas tree graveyard where it will be allowed to rest for eternity.

No more. These days, all the trees are potted and have roots. They bloody refuse to die. All around the neighbourhood, there are gloriously green trees lying on the pavement awaiting collection, not a loose needle in sight. It all looks and feels wrong. And Babes is a big girl's blouse. As am I. He won't put the tree out, and I won't force him too. (No way I would carry the thing out myself.) Just look at the wretched thing, looking all healthy and alive:


"Die, motherfucker, die!"

I have absolutely no desire to have such a tree in my garden. I don't think Babes particularly wants it either, but neither of us can bear the thought of sending a perfectly healthy tree to be burned with its dead cousins. So we are stuck with a spare Christmas tree for the time being, completely ruining the feng shui ambience of our garden. (Maybe not.)

Of course I know what is going to happen: because it is in a pot and the weather is cold, its roots will freeze. Then the tree will die. By which time the council truck will have stopped touring the town, and we will be stuck with a brown, dead tree behind the garden shed. Just because we are sentimental and have completely antropomorphised this stupid tree.

Wednesday, 13 January 2010

A drunk is a drunk in any language - let's give him all our savings

I'm a bit frustrated with this language and culture gap. My kids say the funniest things, most of them completely impossible to translate into English. I have been watching the funniest TV quiz lately, and admiring a Flemish newspaper man who is charming many Flemish women and no doubt some Flemish men with his smile. I'll go out on a limb and assume not many of you have been watching this show. Lost in translation? I wasn't kidding.

Maybe I shouldn't see this as a handicap. What I think is cute in my kids is probably far less cute to someone else. (I just confirmed this by checking my Facebook friends' updates.) Also the news value (to a global audience) of a Flemish TV quiz is debatable. So really it's a blessing. To me, to you, to the interweb.

I do have a little Belgian tidbit that needs no translation - this guy is in charge of our pensions. Seriously. Drink anyone?



This is not his first, second or even third time he turns up drunk. The first time was years ago. How many countries in the world (apart from Russia) would keep him on, and put him in charge of pensions?

I'm off for a very Belgian pastime: another rerun of the British series "'Allo 'Allo." The Germans are dressed in pirates' costumes I see - it should be a good one.

Tuesday, 12 January 2010

I'm all over the place today

  • I've been spammed by that Asian bird again. Naughty! Don't do it again.
  • That serial killer is on my mind. A lot. The whole country is holding its breath, worried about what else they will find out.
  • I need to pee so bad, I probably should go before posting.
  • I want to sleep so bad, I'd better post before peeing.
  • I am so hungry, I'd better eat before sleeping.
In summary: post → eat → pee → sleep.

No, actually I'm so close to bursting, I think that should be
post → grab food to go → pee → eat → sleep.
Aren't you glad you were informed of all this?

Monday, 11 January 2010

Incomprehensible

There are a few things we Belgians have a lot of: beer, chocolate, governments (we have seven), bakers, chemists, unsightly buildings, and also... serial killers. As of this morning, we officially have another one.

I just don't get it. There are not even eleven million of us. We can't "blame it on the foreigners" (although I'm sure some will find a way) because most are home-grown. We have it good. We're ranked 14th in the world for wealth. We have chocolate, we have beer. And yet. And yet.

This last one was a quiet teacher, living in a very small town. He would probably never have been found out had he not killed two of his all-too-young neighbours last week. They were 18 and 22. A week later, and he has already confessed to the murder of another young girl.

Incomprehensible.

Friday, 8 January 2010

What to do when a two year old decides to try being terrible?

So here's a brilliant piece of advice: do not leave in the same room unsupervised:
  • a cooking and hence distracted husband
  • a two year old daughter
  • a packet of chocolate biscuits
  • a cherished laptop
With thanks to the aforementioned husband for cooking dinner and cleaning up the chocolatey laptop. Apparently, she was going on the internet to find the "In The Night Garden" site. Not sure why she needed to smear the screen for that, though. And the keys. And the mouse.

She definitely knew what she'd done wrong. I tried to act rational, while fuming underneath. She was put in time-out, but then got her food as usual. After that, it was PJs and bed, with no story and no frills. She stayed calm throughout. No complaints, no struggles. While I was giving her her bottle, she asked me why I wasn't switching on her special bedside light, and why she wasn't getting a story. I told her it was because I was still angry and upset about the computer. I also said I wouldn't be angry any more tomorrow. I did give her all the usual hugs and kisses and told her I love her. She asked me why I was angry, and I said she knew well enough. When I asked her why I was angry (much easier than repeating myself), she said "because of the chocolate." I asked "because of the chocolate where?" She told me "on the computer." Then she said "I'm going to bed now."

I'm not sure if I was too soft on her. I find two year olds so hard to deal with. Actually, I find this two year old particularly hard to deal with. I don't remember her brother doing this kind of thing. She is testing her boundaries, and she needs to I suppose, but the whole process is so tiring. At least this is a two year old you can reason with and explain things to. How would you deal with this kind of situation? Should I have shouted at her? Given her more of a shock? I hate this part of parenting.

Thursday, 7 January 2010

Girl crush

I have a serious crush on this woman:



It's Shane, from the L word. I've loved her since the first series. I used to watch every episode, but I kind of lost interest in the story somewhere along the line. When I come across the show now, like last night, I will linger and see how she's doing. I'm not sure if I fancy her or if I want to be more like her. Isn't she beautiful, isn't she mysterious, isn't she breathtaking?

While I'm at it, here is another girl crush of mine:



Karen Walker, queen of all that is cool and funny. And that fabulous chest!

Mmmm.

Wednesday, 6 January 2010

Winter - the bastard gets me every time, but I have a plan

It's all around the internet, or at least quite a few blogs I read: winter sadness has made a lot of victims. I've been trying to deny it even to myself, but I have it bad as well. It seems to translate this time into a constant desire to nap. Also I have developed a completely indifferent attitude to housework. The washing has piled up in the kitchen (clean but not processed), dishes hide under the bed and next to the sofa. I have also used the icy roads as an excuse not to go anywhere. I can't even be bothered putting the lights on the Christmas tree on. In fact, that blasted tree is being thrown OUT this weekend. I have been avoiding all of the work above by playing games with the children. (And having the occasional nap.)

Anyway, today I had to blitz the house as tonight is date night - the first in three weeks, what with the holidays and all. One of the main benefits of having a babysitter is that the house gets back to some kind of baseline tidiness every time she comes over. It's a bummer, but probably for the best. The tidying along with the upcoming date have dragged me out of my wintry stupor somewhat, and I have looked up my Ten Step Plan which I made in August, when I also had a case of holiday blues. It only needs a couple of tweaks really for the present circumstances, and because so many of you are suffering I thought I would list my plan (again) - maybe it will inspire someone else. So, from this very second I will
  1. Exercise
  2. Meditate
  3. See An more
  4. See more friends
  5. Do some yoga
  6. Get sexy
  7. Eat better
  8. Drink more water
  9. Sleep more
  10. Moisturise
That last one is to combat this terrible all-over itch I have just now, and which I've been too lazy to remedy.

Basically: action is required. Hibernation would be my option of choice at the moment, but it's not going to happen because I have dependent organisms who demand attention and feeding regularly. Action it is therefore. Feel free to feel inspired.

Tuesday, 5 January 2010

Go An go!

My lovely sister An, may she find champagne in her fridge, has exams just now. She's got her first one tomorrow. I know she reads this blog and looks to it for light relief in between the stress and the studying. (The pressure is just about making my head explode.) So I thought I would take this first paragraph just to wish her the best of luck, and to say she is the best prepared and cleverest student of them all so she will be just fine.

*head explodes*

Seriously, the pressure is killing me. Just so An doesn't notice, here are a couple of pictures of things she likes:









Oh and one of the both of us (I know I've already shown that one twice) just because I love it so so so much, and I know she does too.


While we're waiting for my inspiration to strike, maybe those of you who have iPhones can tell me some of their favourite applications.

(Sorry An, I suck. But you don't, so you go breeze through that exam.)

Monday, 4 January 2010

Straight porn and the fulfillment of all my hopes and dreams, the two topics being entirely unrelated

The holidays are over and here I am again. I hope I find you all well. I have been reading all your lovely messages as well as secretly visiting your blogs in the dead of night. The break has done me good.Well, I say it has but I'm not sure really. The pressure of having to be interesting on a daily basis had been getting to me rather a lot, but then when it was no longer there I got rather apathetic and even more morose than usual, so yes I missed you all, and this writing lark seems to have got under my skin. My stinky mood may also have been caused by all the enforced Christmas cheer, the travelling, the endless parties and the fucking jingle bells, of course. We'll just never know, will we, because for better or worse I am back.

Right. So today I thought I would share the two most memorable events of the holidays with you and get that over and done with:
  1. I had a dream about Mark Foster, the British olympic swimmer. This was two weeks ago, but I figure it was noteworthy enough to share it just now. And besides, it gives me an excuse to stare at length at this picture:



    Oh yeah. Sigh.
    In my dream, Mark was wearing (tight) clothes, but I'm guessing it is obvious to you why I chose the picture with fewer clothes.
    Mark was strolling around the exam hall I was in, sitting an exam on what I can only assume was molecular or some other random kind of biology. Whatever it was, I knew nothing about the subject. I sat staring at this paper, reading through it, not answering anything.
    Mark came over and encouraged me to stick with it - the answers would come to me. Gradually it dawned on him that I in fact was not having some kind of blackout or crisis of confidence but that I genuinely did not know any of the answers, and never would. At which point he turned away disappointed and disgusted with me.
  2. My dad got the new iPhone. Which prompted him to give me his old one!!! Which means all my dreams have been fulfilled and I have nothing more to aim for.
The end.