All the small things...

Here's a little update on what's been cooking this week:

Being a Plan 'B'
The dating game is a minefield. Blind dates especially. Now, I'm not going to get all sanctimonious here - while I haven't been on one for a very long time, I do know that blind dates can be fun. They can, however, also be a showcase of the biggest rotters and weirdos known to man. This week I was my friend's get-out-of-jail free card, otherwise known as the Blind Date Plan B, should her date have been a psychiatric ward escapee or something. He wasn't - but we still had the code phrase phone call at a strategic time, just in case it went awry. All very Sex and the City, but necessary. He didn't make the cut in the end, though.

2-4-1 equals good times
In these times of economic hardship we're all looking for a few ways to save the pennies here and there. So, when a group of mates and I decided it was high time we met up and had a good old chin wag over dinner, we scoured handbag.com until we found a suitable restaurant voucher. Tight? Us? Never! We're just thrifty every now and then. And what we saved in food costs just went towards the wine bill. Oh yes.

There's nothing like a good bitching session
When you've had a bad work week, sometimes that last thing you need is to rake it over and talk. But sometimes you do. Especially if a few of you have had similar troubles. Anyway, an apres-work drink seemed in order on Wednesday where some coworkers and I put the office to rights. And caught up on the workplace shenanigans - all those juicy little tidbits that are meaningless to everyone else, but to colleagues - they're gossip gold. And all things I couldn't possibly repeat.

My crazy mother
Every time I visit my folks, I come away with random items from her loft. Tuesday was no exception. After a very strange meal that consisted of mashed potato, some oddly spiced carrots and not much else; gossip about people I still have no idea who they are (Mother dearest: "You know him over the road with the bad leg, well he left his wife - the second one, not the one with the bad perm. You know them - you used to go to birthday parties with their daughter." Me: "Who?!"); she produced a bag of bits she 'no longer has room for'. What am I going to do with a school project about the Amazon, a box of Forever Friends stationery and some clay pots I made in school ceramics classes?

Planning for next Saturday
My gal pals are coming over next weekend for eats and drinks. I'm thinking Chinese, since it'll be Chinese New Year. There will be lots of flicking through recipe books and practice sessions in the kitchen, no doubt. And I'm sure The Other Half will happily hoover up the results. Lead-lined stomach, that one.

Lipstick Jungle or American Psycho...

New books. I love the smell of new books. Almost as much as I love choosing them in the bookshop. Examining the titles and poring over the covers; picking up ones that sound interesting or just plain bizarre; thumbing through the pages breathing in that first intoxicating aroma of the characters and storylines. Unfortunately, these days my bookshop of convenience has become the internet, and reading user comments and glancing at star ratings is du jour. Saying that, it's not so bad. There's still that thrill of new books arriving through the post and hitting the doormat, waiting for you to open them. And you can order stuff at work when you're bored and nobody is looking. Bonus.

I started reading Candace Bushnell's 'Lipstick Jungle' a wee while ago. I liked 'Sex and the City' but 'Trading Up' was a bit irritating...however I thought I'd give 'Lipstick Jungle' a chance as it was all pretty and girly and had a cocktail on the front, and also happened to come free with the copy of Cosmo I'd picked up in the supermarket which promised 'a great summer read' and had the intriguing guide to becoming 'a sex goddess in 9 steps' on the cover. I really shouldn't have bothered. The one-dimensional vacuous characters are like older, bitter, harsher and less amusing versions of the SATC girls. I just didn't care about the plot. There are only so many fashion shows and champagne parties you can read about. At least in SATC, it was funny. And the crap characters all have rubbish names. Victory Ford, anyone? Sounds like a commemorative car. So, I gave up after a few chapters and started reading my old friend 'American Psycho' again. But I've been itching for something new to read- new characters to love, so online I went.

Amazon's personalised recommendations always make me giggle. 'You once bought a cookery book, so you might be interested in this, 'Build Your own Garden Shed' - that kind of thing. Hmm. But this time they seemed to get it right, suggesting authors along the lines I was looking. Bret Easton Ellis was in my head. I loved 'American Psycho' so much, but haven't actually read any of his other stuff. And they looked appealing enough. After a few minutes of dithering I plumbed for 'Less Than Zero' and 'The Rules of Attraction.' Plus a DVD of Parenthood to take me up to the free delivery limit. Don't judge.

Sorted. New books to read by Saturday. Fantastic. I could do with a reading day. Wrong! Even though I was up early yesterday and listening out for the postman especially, I still managed to miss him. Turns out the flamin' doorbell is kaput and the little Royal Mail note pushed through the door says not to bother collecting my package from the depot for 48 hrs. Now not only do I not have anything to read - but 'Lipstick Jungle' is glaring at me from the shelf. It's my own fault. I shouldn't buy magazines for the free books. Particularly magazines whose covers proudly display bold statements like 'Climb the Career Ladder - Fast' alongside 'How to Knit Your Own Lingerie'.