Well, here we are at the start of another month, folks. Can you believe it’s December already?!
Oh no, wait: it’s not December, is it? It just feels like it’s December, because last night I started doing December’s work – in addition to October’s, obviously. Yes, I am currently writing blog posts for December, and if you need me to explain how utterly depressing that is, I refer you to … oh, any post I’ve ever written here during the winter, in which I complain about how much I hate the winter. So, all of them, basically.
The reason for all of this writing-in-advance, mind you, is a little less depressing, and revolves around the fact that we’re hoping to take a holiday sometime in December, and go somewhere hot (NOT AUSTRALIA), or at least “warmer than here”. (STILL NOT AUSTRALIA). In order to do this, and take time off work, though, I need to either:
a) Clone myself
b) Do all of the work in advance
Terry tells me he will leave and never return if I try to clone myself, because one of me is more than enough, thanks very much, so that basically leaves me with option B. It’s not a great option, it has to be said. Mostly because I’ve been struggling a bit with my workload as it is lately, so the thought of having to write an entire two week’s worth of blog posts on top of what I’m already doing is… well. Is it too early to start drinking, do you think? Oh, and I have to start now, because I try to do it a little bit at a time (like, one extra post per day) rather than all at the same time, which just isn’t possible without making myself ill/insane.
Such is the burden of the self-employed writer, though, and as much as I hate to complain about my job (not really), it’s at this time every year that I sometimes find myself wishing I had a normal job, with normal working hours, and someone to cover for me if I’m ever sick, or on holiday, or just fancy lolling around all day watching 90210 and Gossip Girl. That feeling only lasts a few seconds, mind you, because this is literally the ONLY downside I can think of to self-employment, and the many, many positive things about working for myself more than make up for it. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.
Also, and I know everyone says this, but the passage of time is really freaking me out. I mean REALLY freaking me out. Seriously: it’s October now? Really? Did we not just DO this? In a few weeks it’ll be Halloween, and I could swear it’s only been a couple of months at most since LAST Halloween. And the whole “planning the winter holiday” thing? Just did that. Just a few weeks ago, I’m sure of it. Cannot POSSIBLY be time to do it again. No way. Not unless someone has been messing with the time-space continuum or something. Has someone been doing that? Maybe Rubin?
I’m scared to go to sleep now in case I wake up and I’m 90. Which, at the rate time is passing right now, will probably be next week.
Remember the shirt Terry got for completing his 10k run on the weekend?
It was white. Pristine. It had the name of the race on the front of it, and, this being the first race of this type Terry had ever competed in, he was fairly pleased with it. So, last night before bed, he took his brand new, sparkling white t-shirt, and he laid it out with the rest of his clothes, so he could wear it to the gym this morning.
Well, this morning came, and Terry got up and reached for his (brand new, sparkling white) shirt… And then Terry recoiled in horror, screaming.
Because on the shirt was….
was…
PEE.
Yes, pee. SOMEONE had peed on Terry’s pristine white shirt. Here’s a clue: it wasn’t me. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Terry. This leaves only one real suspect:
He did try to put the blame on TED, but Ted was out partying at the time, so we know it wasn’t him. We’ve tried to piece the events of last night together, and we can only assume that at some point while I was in the bathroom taking my makeup off and Terry was in the office finishing up work, Rubin has snuck into the bedroom and exacted his revenge on the white shirt. It does appear to a be a completely motiveless crime, which is confusing, but then again, Rubin moves in mysterious ways, his, er, wonders to perform, so he doesn’t necessarily need a motive for these things.
Strange Things About This Event: (other than the obvious)
1. Although Rubin will pee inside the house if he’s left on his own (or if he can sneak downstairs at some point), he does NOT generally pee upstairs: he seems to understand that this would be crossing a line from which there would be no coming back. So he doesn’t do it… UNTIL NOW.
2. Rubin has been trained to come and “tell” us if he needs to go out. He did not do this, even although Terry was right there. This suggests that Rubin deliberately targeted the white shirt and used stealth manoeuvres to pee on it. WHY? what did it do to him?
3. Although I know this post is going to generate a lot of “helpful” advice about how awful Rubin is, and how he needs to be trained, OMG, he actually hasn’t peed on any of our clothes since he was a puppy. The last time he did this, though, the item in question was ALSO a white shirt belonging to Terry: a pattern?
In conclusion: Rubin has basically peed all over Terry’s achievement with the run. Terry is not happy. The white shirt is currently being disinfected. The entire bedroom, in fact, has been disinfected. Rubin, meanwhile, is under close surveillance. I’ll keep you posted…
Tagged rubin
Yesterday, Terry ran his first 10km. Everyone say “Yay, Terry!”
It was a proper race, too: with hills, and other people and stuff. Not like the 10ks I run in the gym. He got a t-shirt and a banana at the end of it and everything, which, quite frankly, is begging for some kind of “I ran for 10 kilometres and all I got was this lousy banana” joke, but I will refrain. (I don’t think he even ate the banana, either.)
Anyway, as I said, Yay, Terry! You rock! And also: roll. And that’s why last night we decided to go out to dinner to celebrate. I wore The Dress. You know, the one that was lost, and then was… well, was still lost, so was re-purchased, after huge amounts of whining on my part? THAT dress.
What I failed to consider, though, was that the dress is question has a huge skirt. And it was a very, very windy night. Which meant that, the second I stepped out of the car, the wind snatched up the skirt of the dress and pulled it right up over my head. Like Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch, only much less classy and my whole head was covered by it.
Just to make matters worse, when I finally managed to tear the fabric away from my head, I saw:
a) Terry doubled up laughing next to me
b) An entire balcony’s worth of people outside the restaurant, all just sitting there watching me as if I was the floor show. One man in particular stood and blatantly stared as I walked the rest of the way to the door with my skirt clutched between my knees and the wind still trying to drag it up around my face. That man was NO GENTLEMAN, let me tell you.
We had a nice meal, though. And I managed to keep my skirt in the proper place for the duration of it. I’m starting to think that dress is just unlucky, though…
Tagged missing green dress, running, Terry
Last week Terry and I went shopping, so for this week’s Friday Photo, here I am in my natural habitat: the mall.
I’m wearing my new trench coat and ankle boots, which I bought in preparation for Autumn. And which I wore on a day that was far warmer than any of the days we had during “summer”. Seriously, everyone else was wearing summer stuff. I was boiling. We’ve been having this Indian summer for a couple of weeks now, and I’m 100% sure that the reason we’re having it is because I packed away all of my summer clothes. You can thank me whenever you’re ready, Scotland. I’m also 100% sure that once the Indian summer is over, we’ll go directly to Deep Midwinter without passing Autumn, and I’ll never get to wear my new trench-coat ever again.
I went shopping to buy stuff for Winter. The bag you can see in my left hand? Contains the new summer dress I bought in Topshop. I really suck at seasonal shopping, apparently.
(I did actually get some winter stuff, mind you. That’s for a Friday Photo of the future, though. Maybe.)
Tagged friday photo, Things I Bought
Riddle me this, readers:
You’re at the gym. It’s empty, but for one solitary person – a clumsy redhead, say – who is wheezing away on the treadmill right next to the wall. This treadmill is one of about ten such machines, so there are lots to choose from. Do you:
a) Use the treadmill furthest away from the wheezy redhead.
b) Use one in the middle of the row, so you’re not too close to the wheezy redhead, but not so far away that she’ll worry that she smells or something.
c) Use the treadmill RIGHT NEXT TO HERS, even although there are, as noted, about eight other ones to choose from.
d) Leave the gym immediately. Ain’t no way you’re sharing space with a GINGER.
I would choose option A. This is because I hate people, and I like a bit of space while I’m working out. Also because I am apparently incapable of listening to music without kind of mouthing along to the words, and sometimes, you know, busting some moves. I’ve been listening to a lot of Lady Gaga on my runs: you can imagine how good THAT looks. Put it this way: you totally CAN read my poker face. GOD. When I’m not singing, though, my mouth just kind of hangs open, like a slack-jawed yokel, and I CANNOT keep it closed. Which is… nice.
So, yes, I would choose option A every time. Every other member of our gym, though? Option C. Doesn’t matter how many machines are free, they will choose the one next to mine. Every. Time. This is how The Others behave, obviously. It kind of horrifies me, because as well as the aforementioned “mouthing”, I sound like I’m having a fit when I run. Seriously, it’s like I’m dying. And when someone else is running along just an arm’s length away from me, I have to spend the whole run repeating, “Shut your mouth. Be quiet. Stop singing. Shut your mouth. Be quiet!” (In my own head, obviously. Well, at least I THINK I say it in my own head…)
(Note: I obviously don’t mind people being near me if the gym is busy. Well, I do, but I don’t feel I can complain about it. I’m talking about when it’s as quiet as the grave, though, and I’m the only other person in it. )
This is, of course, the same phenomenon I used to notice when I would go swimming at the gym, and instantly my lane would fill with fifteen other people, while the rest of the pool remained totally empty. Terry says people just like a bit of company, and I’m weird. This may well be true. Either that or it’s the “If you’re crazy, come and sit next to me!” sign on my forehead…
Tagged the gym, the others
Last week I was taking a look at the River Island website (for, er, research purposes, you understand), when this hat caught my eye: 
Remind you of anyone?
 Not a hat I think Terry and I should get one each, and wear them every time we’re out with Rubin. In fact, I think EVERYONE should get one. I mean, who WOULDN’T want to walk around with a Rubinman on their head?
So, I’ve noticed that no one actually comes here on a Friday, so I thought I’d revive the Friday Photo that I used to do did a couple of times way back in the day, so I don’t have to write actual words that no one will read. Lazy: it’s my middle name!
For today’s Friday Photo, I present a fascinating glimpse of the professional blogger at work:
 Blogger, working Actually, this photo is part of an entire series taken by my dad (thanks dad!) during our last trip to Florida. And I look the same in every single one of them. Witness
 At home
 In the Olive Garden
Look! I’m even dressed the same!*
* On top, anyway. I wasn’t wearing the classy “shorts and heels” outfit from the image above. I hope not, anyway. I actually can’t remember much about that holiday, to be honest. I wonder why?
 At the pool*
You feel like YOU’VE been drinking wine after looking at that last one, don’t you? Let that be a lesson to you all, then
Anyway, that was my Friday Photo. You could do one too**, and then it could be like, a meme or something. Or, you know, not.
* Taken AFTER I’d been swimming, not before or during. Use alcohol responsibly, kids. Like me.
** Doesn’t have to be a photo of you drunk, obviously. Although that would be funny.
Edited to Add: I feel like I should point out that I am not actually drunk in any of these. That was supposed to be a joke 
Tagged friday photo, WINE
Today I did my first ever 10km run. 10km!
And OK, I did it on the treadmill rather than outside, and I didn’t exactly break the land speed record in the process, but I did manage to run for the full 10km without stopping or walking, AND I did it without having my own choice of music to listen to, thanks to my iPhone deciding to reach critical battery when I still had two kilometres to go. I knew that if I reached my goal, I’d want to take the photo above (featuring a guest appearance by the enormous head of Lily Allen), so I had to turn off the phone and resort to watching the only music station available on the treadmill, which was called FLAUNT. And which played the most depressing video I have ever seen in my life. Evereverever. Seriously, it was by someone called “Just Jack” and it was called “The Day I Died.” Can you guess what it was about? CAN YOU?
“Now we have a song about a man who gets run over by a taxi,” intoned the disembodied voice-over man on FLAUNT. “And dies.”
And sure enough: the man got run over by a taxi. And died. We, the viewing audience, were treated to this event in all its heart-breaking misery. We saw the man get up, and have a jolly breakfast with his loving wife and cute little kids. We saw him kiss them goodbye, and leave for work, taking a quick moment as he opened the door to look back on his loving family and reflect on how very lucky he was to have them. The family, meanwhile, looked back at him, all smiles and thankfulness. And the whole time this was happening, we, the audience, knew that the man was about to be run over by a taxi. It actually made me want to die. I ran the whole of the last kilometre thinking “OMG! OMG! His wife! And those kids! It was just an ordinary day, but then he… he… DIED! Wah! What if that happens to me? Or Terry? Or my parents? What if, on this very ordinary Wednesday, I am, in fact, about to be run over by a taxi? And I’ll have spent the last 72 minutes and 38 seconds of my life running on the spot, on this stupid machine?”
What a total downer.
Seriously, if you run, and you’re looking for music to motivate you, don’t choose “The Day I Died”. Because at the end of my run, as happy as I was with the achievement, all I could think about was that poor, poor man, and his wife and kids. I hate FLAUNT. I’m charging my iPhone as I write this, so I never have to watch FLAUNT again. Then I’m loading it with songs called “Fluffy Bunnies Who Totally Don’t Die During the Song” and “No Taxis in This One!”
Anyway. I ran 10km, but I had the weight of the world on my shoulders for the last km, and was so depressed it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other, so it was more like 12km. It was like FLAUNT actually wanted me to fail, you know?
I also have another milestone to celebrate this week, as The Fashion Police had its 3rd birthday yesterday. So I’ve spent three years now writing about how much I hate Crocs and harem pants, which I guess is quite an odd thing to spend three years doing when you could get run over by a taxi at any given time. Still, it pays the bills, so happy birthday, Fashion Police, here’s to three more taxi-free years! I hope.
Tagged just jack, running
…and I’m not talking about the spammer who keeps emailing Terry using the subject line, “Terry you’re an idiot” and providing a pornographic image in the body of the email – although that’s about as bad as it gets, to be honest.
No, the spam that’s really annoying me at the moment is the blog comment spam that comes from large, legitimate businesses: businesses who should know better, in other words.
Today I’ve had to delete two spam comments from my blogs, both of which were promoting brands which are household names. When I looked at the email addresses of the people posting the spam, and typed the suffix of those addresses into Google, in both cases they took me to the websites of online marketing agencies who list these household-name companies as their clients.
Interesting. I wonder if the clients in question know their reputations are being systematically ruined by marketing companies spamming blogs in their name? And if they condone that kind of behaviour?
I know that if I was paying a marketing company to promote my website, I would be horrified to think that they were using comment or email spam to do it. I have no wish to be known as a spammer, and that’s exactly what will happen to these brands unless they take steps to find out what their marketers are getting up to on their behalf.
This isn’t the first time I’ve encountered this issue, but it has particularly annoyed me today because it so happens that both of the companies being spammed on my blogs are ones I have affiliate relationships with – affiliate relationships I’m now seriously reconsidering given that I really don’t want to support spammers.
Needless to say, the spam has been deleted and the IPs banned. But I think the next time I’m contacted by representatives of the brands in question, I will be asking them if they’re aware of what’s happening…
Rubin’s favourite sleeping spot: the little pool of sunlight that falls through the bathroom window and lands in the hallway:
On Saturday morning, the bathroom door was closed, and – get this – he actually went and pushed it open with his paw, just so he could create that little pool of light to lie in. Isn’t he a clever boy? Sometimes?
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