Rubin writes…
Yo peeps, s’up? Rubinman in da house…
So, at the weekend it was Amber’s “birthday”, but guess who got presents? YES, it was ME – the Rubinman got presents, and let me tell you, that’s exactly the way it should be, because do you know what Amber and Terry got me for MY “birthday”? NOTHING, that’s what. NOTHING. Anyways, it’s like, they totally got me a present for Amber’s “birthday” and this is what it was:
YES! It’s a BLING COLLAR! A “BLOLLAR!” Got me a BLOLLAR and damn, but I look mighty fine in my Blollar, let me tell you. I’d show you, but it’s like, I’m keepin’ it for special occassions, like when I take Amber out for a walk and we haveta go past all me bitches in the street. For real. And also: because my hairs are so WILD, you can’t really see the Blollar too good. Still, I got one, and, you know, that’s more than you got, so there.
Now, I know what you’re thinkin’ about me n’ my BLOLLAR. Yoos are all, “Nancy boy got a gold collar with SPARKLY BITS on it! First he gets a PINK BOWL then he gets a freakin’ BLOLLAR, what is he, some kind of sissy?” Well, the Rubinman is NOT a sissy, and I’ll tell yoos how I know. Lookit this: does HE look like a sissy to you?
No, I didn’t think so. It’s my man 50 Cent – note the BLOLLAR. Yeah, old 50 Cent, he got his BLOLLAR on back to front, but that’s ‘cos he is NO WAY as cool as the Rubinman. He’ll learn. In the meantime, I’m off to strut my stuff show off my ice, ice baby. Smell yas!
Rubin
It’s my birthday today. It’s OK, you don’t need to congratulate me, because dudes, I am OLD. And also: grumpy. I am the Grumpy Birthday Girl (TM) – hooray!
See, I’ve never really "got" birthdays. It’s like, "hello, congratulations for still being alive, even although you’re totally decrepit!" I don’t like being reminded that I’m getting older, because seriously, as far as I can tell there’s NOT ONE GOOD THING to be said about aging. Not one. OK, we’ll probably be slightly more financially secure as we age ("Not if you keep on buying shoes," says Terry), but what will we spend it on? Other than botox, obviously? We could spend it on clothes, but where is the joy in buying support stockings and jeans with elasticated waists? And orthopedic shoes? We could spend it on travel, but we’ll probably just complain the whole time about our lumbago, and how we’re not as mobile as we used to be. Gah.
No, I’ll just stay young forever, thanks very much. You can still send me gifts, though, because gifts? Rock. I’ll tell you, there aren’t many days that can’t be improved by getting STUFF, and today was no exception because lookit!
Ipod Nano! In Darth Vader black! What a lovely, generous fiance I have, no? His birthday is in June, and it’s going to be hard for me to top ol’ Vader here, so if you could just drop your suggestions in the comments box, that would be great. (And try to think like a 29-year-old man who likes gadgets and stuff. Thanks.) He also got me these:
Crack in a bag, folks. Nah, I’m just kidding – it’s earplugs. They won’t quite match my orange earphones, but that’s OK because neon is SO this season trust me. It’s great being totally intolerant of noise, you get entire bags of yellow earphones all to yourself. Hee!
So yes, that was my birthday, 2007style. Later I will get dressed and go out to dinner with Terry and my parents, and after that I will drink wine. In the meantime, though, I’m going to get all emo on you and copy paste song lyrics into my blawg. It makes me feel young again, like a MySpace kid or something. Here they are:
Why is it that as we grow older and stronger
The road signs point us adrift and make us afraid
Saying "You never can win," "Watch your back," "Where’s your husband?"
Oh I don’t like the signs that the signmakers made.
So I’m going to steal out with my paint and my brushes
I’ll change the directions, I’ll hit every street
It’s the Tinseltown scandal, the Robin Hood vandal
She goes out and steals the King’s English
And in the morning you wake up and the signs point to you
They say
"I’m so glad that you finally made it here,"
"You thought nobody cared, but I did, I could tell,"
And "This is your year," and "It always starts here,"
And oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh, "You’re aging well."
- Dar Williams, ‘You’re Aging Well’
Well hello there, didya miss me? No posts for a whole week: why, it’s almost as if my impending wedding made me freak the hell out, and I spent EIGHT ENTIRE DAYS googling the phrase "mirror mirror on the wall, who will be the prettiest bride of them all?" and wondering whether I’ll fall over in my dress (answer: probably), isn’t it?
Well that’s not what happened, so you can all stop looking at me like that RIGHT NOW. No, this is what happened to stop me blogging:
Yes, those are my shoes. Aren’t they pretty? Say they are pretty. The problem with my shoes? Well, see, that’s not all of my shoes. Not even close. That is, however, all of the storage space available to them. (Actually, I tell a lie: there’s one of those dangly shoe-storage things in the office, and an Ikea shoe thingy in the porch, but those don’t count because the shoes in there are totally my B-list shoes. Urgh.) You can see my dilemma here, can’t you?
Don’t worry, though, I haven’t spent the entire eight days worrying about this. No, some of the time has been spent worrying about how on earth I’m supposed to fit all of my clothes into one three wardrobes. How did they fit in there before I started cleaning? Where will any new clothes I buy live? Why is our house so stupidly small? And hey, did the council cleaning van just CLEAN AWAY MY BROWN PICKET FENCE or did I imagine that? (Note: I did not imagine it. The council actually swept away part of our poor fence as they cleaned the street. That fence? Doomed. Doomed, I tells ya…) Other things I have done in the past eight days:
- Completed all Projects of Doom. Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we’re free at last!
- Watched Terry repaint the entire house – or start to, anyway. He’s not quite done yet, and he’s not getting out to play until he is.
- Cleaned most of the house, which will obviously have to be cleaned again after the painting
- Shopped.
- I totally thought there were more things to put on this list but nope, obviously not. Ah well…
So, basically I’ve been putting my affairs in order, which makes me sound like I’m dying, but I’m not. (Well, not that I know of, anyway. I did have a suspected brain tumor earlier this week, and also a malignant melanoma, but that’s quite a good week for a hypochondriac…) This frenzied activity has been mostly inspired by the wedding (it’s that whole "fresh start, let’s clean the house" thing. As you can imagine, I’ll be lots of fun to be married to) but it really needed to be done. Next up: the cleaning of the office. Now I bet you can’t wait for me to report back on that, can you?
It’s March, people. March as in "Oh-my-God-I’m-getting-married-this-month-March". THAT March.
Holy crap. I know everyone says this, but doesn’t the time fly? We booked our wedding on the 31st March 2006, one year to the day before it was actually going to happen, and it really, really feels like it was only yesterday. It felt like it would never, ever happen, and now here we are, in MARCH, and by the time this March goes out (like a lamb, hopefully. Please, March, go out like a lamb: a lovely, spring lamb, with maybe some sunshine, hmmm?) I will no longer be a spinster of this parish, but will be an old married laydee. Gulp.
 Actually, despite the "out like a lamb" comment above, I think the weather is the only thing I’m not worried about. By making the decision to get married in Scotland, we pretty much knew that we were setting ourselves up for bad weather on our wedding day. And really, who cares? It’s all inside, so it’s not like we’ll be having to wade around in wellies or anything. So the weather? Can totally do its worst. I’m not worried about it. "Blow winds, crack your cheeks!" as …somebody in King Lear once said. You can totally tell I’m an English Lit graduate, can’t you?
Things I am worried about:
- Me getting one of my famous "second head" spots
- Or a cold sore
- Or the cold
- No one turning up
- People turning up, but HATING everything
- My shiny new veneers falling off on the morning of the wedding, revealing the PEG TEETH beneath in all their glory
- The plane crashing en route to the honeymoon
- Or on the way back
But other than that, I’m just totally excited about it all. I know people always go on about how stressful it is planning a wedding, and how terrible it must all be for us, but really, it involves buying shoes and makeup, how bad can it actually be? (Answer: pretty damn bad, if the PEG TEETH get a look in, actually)
Anyway, we celebrated the month of March this morning by listening to a few hours of White Van Radio. Funnily enough, the cacophony of noise stopped at around about the same time I started hanging out of the bathroom window with my camera, trying to use the zoom function to read the phone number printed on the door of the van. I guess the Van Men realised that what they were dealing with here was not just a woman with a low tolerance level for noise, but a CRAZY woman with a low tolerance level for noise. Oh well. Later, I took the dog for a walk, and was overtaken on the footpath – THE FOOTPATH – by a kid riding a motorbike. Oh it’s a cold wind blows through the ghetto for sure…
YES! It’s that picture of me at Orocco Pier last summer AGAIN! When will I get tired of posting it? Um, probably next Sunday, when we go back there to meet the photographer, and we get a new one to replace it with. The day this picture was taken we’d been to Orocco Pier for lunch, and I ate so much cheese that it gave me a migraine which – HELLO! – was totally not a migraine, but was in fact a BRAIN TUMOUR. Ah, those were the days. (Note to self: no cheese at wedding)
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