Trust Tommy

Mum bought a smoothie maker about 2 weeks ago. I’ve been making smoothies almost every day with varying success.

Most successful:

-Frozen mixed berries
-Apple Juice
-Orange Juice
-Crushed Ice
-Strawberry Yoghurt

-Yoghurt
-Berries
-Ginger
-Ice

Unsuccessful ones

-Berry
-Apple juice
-Natural Yoghurt
-Honey

Natural yoghurt is just a big fail. Bring back proper yoghurts!

Those of you who know me well will know I am a music freak. The way I see it, you can be silent once you’re dead, so until then, you have no excuse not to like music.

I have some pretty bizarre music tastes, I love jazz, rock and The Dresden Dolls (yes, they get their own genre – how many other bands do you know that fall under “modern/punk cabaret”?!)

When it comes to Jazz, I love the works of Frank Sinatra and Jamie Cullum. Rock bands I enjoy include Red Hot Chili Peppers, Band from TV and The Fray.

The Dresden Dolls get a whole genre to themselves. What do you think of when you hear the word “Cabaret”? I for one think of honky-tonk pianos and 1930’s America. Now, imagine “Punk Cabaret” and “Rock Cararet”. You have The Dresden Dolls

They’re made up of Brian Viglione and Amanda Palmer. Brian plays epic drums and Amanda does some fantastic lyrics. Their best songs are “Girl Anachronism”, “My Alcoholic Friends” and “The Jeep Song”

Here’s a comical version of “My Alcoholic Friends” from YouTube

I’m sitting on the floor of the kitchen as John plays Xbox 360 with my cousins. I’m missing my iPhone

Throughout the day I’ve experienced little pangs of annoyance and sadness at my iPhone going “missing”, be it people talking about Twinke or someone using Twitpic. Going to centrestage today I brought my iPod and phone, and reflected on how if I had an iPhone, I’d only have to bring that.

Texting someone this morning, that was infuriating – I could’ve been using my iPhone!

Maybe what I’m so annoyed at is that because it’ll probably be months until I can order another one. It’ll be ages until anything comes up either with Patrick’s travel insurance or the airline. Has compensation been heard of in this sort of situation?

I want to get in contact with Patrick – to find out what happens now.

Came down this morning to…

Yay! Only 26 days til Christmas! :)

EDIT ~ Saw this cobweb just outside the window too!

These are from a book called “Disorder in the American Courts”, and are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published by court reporters that had the torment of staying calm while these exchanges were actually taking place.

ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?
WITNESS: He said, “Where am I, Cathy?”
ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?
WITNESS: My name is Susan!

_________________________

ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.

_________________________

ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he?
WITNESS: Uh, he’s twenty.

_________________________

ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death.
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Now whose death do you suppose terminated it?

_________________________

ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
WITNESS: Guess.

_________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?
WITNESS: All my autopsies are performed on dead people. Would you like to rephrase that?
ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Oral.

_________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?

_________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.

Enjoy. Thanks to all involved!

Still working to a schedule! :)

Bond remembered his last encounter with Mr. White. He’d been standing over him with a machine gun in his hand, nothing should have gone wrong. But something had. Mr. White had pressed a button and a bomb had exploded sending Bond flying blackwards into the wall, knocking the breath out of him. He’d lain there, his ears ringing and his vision blurred. Having just regained his balance, he saw Mr. White had struggled into the boat by the jetty and was escaping. Bond had tried to fire the machine gun, but it just made a guttural, choking noise and refused to fire. He’d turned it over and seen a huge crack along the barrel of the gun. He’d cursed, a single four letter word made of pure hate. He’d ran back to his car and found, to his utter disbelief, that it refused to start.

Bond cursed himself for going into a daydream. He had a job to do. He didn’t have the right tools to put a trace on White’s car, but his own Jaguar had. he just worried that Mr. White would be gone by the time that he’d brought the car over here.

==back at the Gold member’s lounge==

“…and you’ll find a satellite navigation machine in the mercedes. It has directions to your target at Lyon. The car has a full tank of fuel in it so you should get about halfway before having to stop…” Mr. White paused a minute to sip some amber colored liquid. “…to refuel.”
“Once I plant the C4, where do I go?” asked the man in the hawaiian shirt. Juan Carlos was Portuguese, he was 34, and he’d been born with a medical condition which made the hair follicles go hay-wire. By age three he had a mullet of which the Beatles would have been proud of, and by 20 it was down to his waist. No matter how much he cut it the hair continued to grow. At the age of 25 he’d gone for surgery to remove the hair follicles, leaving only a few wisps of dead grey hair left.
“You’re in Lyon, take in the sights, eat the food, go to the beaches. What am I? A travel consultant?” Mr. White replied, losing patience.
Carlos went red. “Right boss”
Mr. White was gruff now. “Get going!”
Carlos stood up and left the lounge

==The Car Park==

Bond had circled the car a few times and had come up with a few interesting things. The licence plate was fake, the chassis belonged to a BMW and the engine was that of a Toyota. Most intriguing of all was a small box on the passenger seat marked with the “GARMAN” seal. He guessed what it was from its size.
He ducked down below the Merc as a lift door hissed open and the man he’d seen with Mr. White walked into the car park. Bond twisted and rolled under the Renault that was parked next door to the mercedes. He crouched down behind the bonnet and watched the man’s progress across the tarmac until he reached the car. He took a key out of his pocket and slotted it into the door. He turned it and was rewarded with a plip! plip! sound that all car manufacturers insist on putting on their cars, no matter how many letters they get telling them how annoying they are. He opened the door and Bond saw him sit in and insert the key into the ignition. He was running out of time! He realised how stupid he’d been to waste so much time. He’d have to make a decision, and quick. The man was gunning the engine! Bond suddenly saw a broken bottle underneath the Renault he’d taken refuge under. He ducked down and grabbed it, then threw it just in front of the back wheel. A second later the wheel began moving forward. It met the bottle and there was an almighty “BANG! as the tyre burst. The door flew open and the man jumped out, cursing at the top of his voice. He went around and saw the bottle. Grimly, Bond smiled to himself. As Carlos bent down. Bond ducked down by the boot of the Renault and began calculating distances. Carlos then disappeared into a Hertz office to try and get someone to help change the tyre. Bond saw his chance. He ran behind the Mercedes and slipped the boot open. It wasn’t ideal, and if he opened it he’d be rumbled, but at short notice it was all he could do. He clambered in and shut the door behind him. He had a sudden idea and pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and pressed the “ON” switch. It flickered into life and he began keying in a number. +442078784257801*. It rang twice before being answered. 801 meant the first office on the 8th floor in Universal Exports, A.K.A Military Intelligence 6, or MI6, and the office in question belonged to M’s secretary, Moneypenny, and it was she who answered.

“Hello?” her voice was kind, and had a motherly quality. Bond had been away for six weeks. He’d forgot how beautiful it sounded.
“Moneypenny, be a dear…”

* NOT a real number. Not only is it not Mi6’s number, it’s not a proper UK one either!

Videos speak louder than words you know!

Thanks again :)

OK. Some huge cogs must have been in motion over the last couple of days.

Let me start from the beginning. I’ve been pretty excited about me having bought an iPhone and it arriving today. I bought it from a guy in Ohio and had it shipped to Patrick (cheaper shipping) in Vancouver. He was originally planning on bringing it when he came home for Christmas but then he decided to go to Paris for 2 days and asked Dad to join him. I sensed a fantastic opportunity asked Patrick to give Dad my iPhone. Everything was planned. It should have been perfect.

Fast forward to me coming out of school today. I switch on my old Nokia and find there’s a text. I open it and scan through it. It’s from Dad, who came home at about 2 o’clock. I see the words “sorry”, “iPhone”, “airport” and “lost”. My brain thinks up endless horrible possibilities. I feel like something out of Pandora’s Box. Endless possibilities were flooding and I was hurriedly stuffing them back in their box. I took a deep breath and reread the text.

Your probably not going to believe this, but it’s not a joke. P’s bag with your phone in it was mislaid by Airline. When he got it back.. the phone was gone. Of course he should be able to claim, but it will take time

I read it and my mouth formed an O. *

I mutter a four letter word under my breath and my best friend looks over my shoulder and reads it.

But your Dad’s a joker, ain’t he? he asks.

What I want to believe right now and what I do believe are completely different entities right now.

I find Mum in the car and she’s wearing that face. I know that look. It’s the one she wears when something crap happens.

Fast forward again..

I spy a package on the table. It has neat writing on it with my name and address. I open it and feel for the letter, nothing there. I put the package up to my eye and look in. There’s something in there.. I upend the package into my hand and out pops…

What’s this? A badge! Now you can wear your trust on your sleeve (although the more common place is on the chest) with this nifty badge. I know now who sent it and am currently thinking of a way of thanking him

But wait! I’m not the only one!

Thank you to one and all involved. Sorry to anyone on a low broadband connection. I’ve probably just screwed your internet up royally. Sorry also to anyone who I forgot. Drop me a comment and I’ll add you in. :)

*Maybe it was preparing itself for the number of times it would later on.

Last night, just before I was going out, I checked my email and saw that Patrick was online in Gmail’s weird little chat thingy. I opened up a conversation window and chatted to him for a while, asking him where he was and such. Turns out, he was at the airport. I tentatively ask him.

“So… you got the… y’know..”

There’s a pause as I anxiously wonder the possibilities. Finally, a little italicized message appears. “Patrick is typing“. My breath catches in my throat as..

Patrick: Oh, um, so, you know that thing I *really* didn’t want to forget? that important thing?”
Me *worried* : Yeah…?
Patrick: Yeah, so I kind of… forgot it..
Me: Oh, um, bummer
Patrick: Yeah.. I forgot my lucky pair of socks
Me *trying to hide relief*: Oh, um, shame..
Patrick *knowing far too well what I’m up to*: LOL, but that reminds me. You know that pocket-sized electronic thing I needed to give to Dad? I did forget that..
Me *fresh waves of panic*: Oh yeah?
Patrick: My travel adaptor!

I have a mini heart attack and Mum calls and we head to the debate (which we won!).

I never actually got to make sure he did have the iPhone. Maybe it was a ruse to cover up the fact he did forget. Or more likely, I’m just being a nervous twit. Which is more likely? :P