tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70618492842123684232024-03-14T01:39:51.605+10:30Margot's Musings & MisadventuresMargot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.comBlogger183125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-93960867605154562012-01-19T17:32:00.002+10:302012-01-19T17:32:45.327+10:30Bad Message<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9M8diiI8jjHAN1WScRAXeefBBfoJCtZkeR-LQ5MmB-S_xRY9oQugxTQfbUDwt6ZRKf3YFlxrpZyXnd8RheKaEJn-WyC87B65D_bkGQs75do0x_tVwlUaGKZCNSyp_AB3wgxicsYbAXOek/s1600/Beauty-and-the-Beast-Wallpaper-beauty-and-the-beast-6260125-1024-768_max600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9M8diiI8jjHAN1WScRAXeefBBfoJCtZkeR-LQ5MmB-S_xRY9oQugxTQfbUDwt6ZRKf3YFlxrpZyXnd8RheKaEJn-WyC87B65D_bkGQs75do0x_tVwlUaGKZCNSyp_AB3wgxicsYbAXOek/s320/Beauty-and-the-Beast-Wallpaper-beauty-and-the-beast-6260125-1024-768_max600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
In my opinion, Beauty and the Beast has a lot to answer for in making generations of little girls think if they're just nice enough, they can tame the beast.<br /><br />I realise this wasn't the moral of the story, but the message is still clear.<br />If you're just nice and patient enough, the kind man will emerge from the gruff, cold, mean exterior.<br /><br />
<br />Reality tells a different story.<br /><br />
<br />
While there are always exceptions, just as, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, means it's probably a duck, if he's mean, angry and violent, no matter who you are, you're not going to save him.<br />That's who he is.<br /><br />The real message of the movie though is to look beyond the exterior and we'd all do well to do that, but at the same time, you can't assume that an ugly exterior means a pretty inside, or a pretty exterior means an ugly inside.<br /><br />We are who we are. Not perfect, all affected by our life experiences.<br /><br />Bottom line, don't make assumptions about people based on their exterior, and don't make excuses for bad behaviour and give people the respect you'd want for yourself.Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-27292068575803292232011-12-01T17:47:00.001+10:302011-12-01T17:54:28.579+10:30Going Up? Too bad for you...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; 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float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkMIiz9ehxktWrupM3QcSJ0aHt4nJsbpr8PdjLrebWRXd3kLIwHdtht5Azj8WI5LNII4pT-nE7OYAoEuQV1I8WqJjeWEyG95sVLr6aWGzgWaHsbP-Dp6guJuSIuwbZpIFE44ukLjtsoOh/s320/lift.jpg" width="320" /></a>First day back at work after annual leave is always a bit of a shock to the system even for a part timer like me. <br />
<br />
It was made more interesting for me by the arrival of a new lift system. <br />
<br />
Most of the floors in my building are only accessible by swiping your security card. <br />
So previously, you'd get in the lift, swipe your card and press your floor. <br />
<br />
Ahhhhh it sounds so simple when it's put like that. <br />
<br />
The reality was, you'd swipe your card but it wouldn't register and those lift doors only stay open for so long so if you didn't have your arm out holding the door, god knows where you'd end up. <br />
Particularly bad luck for those of us (me included) on the first floor if someone got in and started trying to swipe before you. <br />
<br />
So when I saw the new lift system today I thought great! Problem solved!!!<br />
<br />
Let me explain how this new "high tech" system works. <br />
You push your floor number BEFORE you get in, swipe your card and the panel tells you which of the six lifts will take you there. <br />
Again, great in theory....<br />
So I get there, push 1, swipe my card when asked and.... Nothing. Actually it wasn't nothing, it was some kind of "error" beep... after the third or fourth time I expected the security alarms to start going off. <br />
<br />
Meanwhile people all around me are pushing their floor and being directed to the lift that will take them there. It all seemed to be working fine for them.<br />
<br />
Now before you ask, there is NO option to walk up to the first floor from the ground level otherwise I'd gladly do that...<br />
<br />
After six or ten attempts I just followed a girl into a lift, thinking I'd go to where she was going and then walk down to my floor.... You can imagine how strange it must have been when I follow her in then ask what floor she's going to... <br />
<i>"I'm going where you're going"</i><br />
She told me she was going to the 11th....<br />
Great<br />
<br />
<br />
Who knew riding an elevator could cause so much frustration...<br />
<br />
Later I found out my card hadn't been enabled yet because I'd been on leave when it was installed. <br />
Hopefully it will work tomorrow... fingers doubly and triply crossed...Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-69017813116254754312011-11-16T15:29:00.001+10:302011-11-16T15:37:12.224+10:30When someone thinks for you.... Saturday night Sarah, Josh and I were in the car coming back from
Sweeney Tood (an amazing production/performance). We'd gushed about it for
most of the trip back and then were silent in the car.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU60ZgH0QmmYqDTqca8PLHFyftTwQ8QQkEmuMZ3F_U4cKXFk2QqlbO5AaqiM_G1AaiZBUI5N06zL5zfWVXC1xPuky66YZ03J4gA6nA7BKGjJnDV3zMBQrRj2Df3LN54jLLHYOayXv_tm8J/s1600/tumblr_l7no7vqYah1qbv4xuo1_400.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU60ZgH0QmmYqDTqca8PLHFyftTwQ8QQkEmuMZ3F_U4cKXFk2QqlbO5AaqiM_G1AaiZBUI5N06zL5zfWVXC1xPuky66YZ03J4gA6nA7BKGjJnDV3zMBQrRj2Df3LN54jLLHYOayXv_tm8J/s320/tumblr_l7no7vqYah1qbv4xuo1_400.png" width="320" /></a><br />
Sarah breaks the silence by saying <br />
<i>"Mum where's the..." </i><br />
and before she finishes the sentence, I say<br />
<i>"It's in the bottom drawer"</i><br />
<br />
And silence took over again.<br />
<br />
<br />
And as I was sitting there replaying those few words in my head I wondered what Josh thought of it so I said <br />
<i>"Josh did you notice how we did that?" </i><br />
<br />
Being a teenage male, he wasn't even aware that we'd spoken, let alone that we'd had a mental telepathy moment....<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrK5Fc2y3CphTxreyz6RcFKrWk_UgXoFKoMEveCaI7DbhMMXg6Oj1taiPl67OMmkPj7_eIn2D4597vT_SIHxS-VW26ugDtXc8QFrWCxVu5X-q7dg5-8II9rrePZoLjRdAhQISsj9_9Gb_G/s1600/bstn414l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrK5Fc2y3CphTxreyz6RcFKrWk_UgXoFKoMEveCaI7DbhMMXg6Oj1taiPl67OMmkPj7_eIn2D4597vT_SIHxS-VW26ugDtXc8QFrWCxVu5X-q7dg5-8II9rrePZoLjRdAhQISsj9_9Gb_G/s320/bstn414l.jpg" width="250" /></a><br />
But there is something about my daughter that makes her know exactly what I'm going to say before I even say it! This is probably the first time I've noticed it work the <i>other </i>way.<br /><br />Half the time I don't even know what I want to say myself and I stumble over my words <br />"Did you see...? where's the....? did you want...? remember when we did that thing?"<br />No matter what I'm saying, she knows what I'm asking and answers accordingly... <br /><br />She's a clever chookie that one! Don't know where she gets it from ;)<br />Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-46699982815438399022011-11-15T10:25:00.001+10:302011-11-16T15:40:58.621+10:30Feeling for Rudolph<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwVyKcMp0Z9MkRfavmsE8ahfy9DbvGFBOAci4lSPEWkPeJfohUIoQeJbsdKG2qzVwVwCwafVs-CRON8p_bGxDrfGVE2f_hLSxWiztdityzDTaalGDx0WkXMcem9i4EC6PYalGUYgi_60Nx/s1600/rudolph-red-nosed-reindeer-thumb7049705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwVyKcMp0Z9MkRfavmsE8ahfy9DbvGFBOAci4lSPEWkPeJfohUIoQeJbsdKG2qzVwVwCwafVs-CRON8p_bGxDrfGVE2f_hLSxWiztdityzDTaalGDx0WkXMcem9i4EC6PYalGUYgi_60Nx/s320/rudolph-red-nosed-reindeer-thumb7049705.jpg" width="248" /></a></div>
It's the time of year when Xmas carols start being sung. You either love them or hate them but I think, even if you love them, by the time Xmas comes around, you're ready to throttle someone every time you hear one.<br />
<br />
This seems to be especially true for me seeing as we have a few Xmas shows coming up with the chorus, and we've been busy rehearsing our Xmas carols.<br />
<br />
There's one carol that has always puzzled me. I don't understand why everyone thinks it's a great song. There seems to be a very bad message behind it.<br />
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The carol I'm talking about is Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Lyrics can be <a href="http://www.the-north-pole.com/carols/rudolph.html" target="_blank">found here</a><br />
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Don't know what I'm talking about?<br />
<br />
Well, here's this poor little reindeer who is picked on by the other reindeer for being different.<br />
Poor Rudolph had a shiny nose. The song makes it worse by saying if <i><b>YOU</b></i> saw it, you'd laugh at him too! So it's saying his nose is so bad, you couldn't help but torment him about it. As if Rudolph had any control over his shiny glowing nose...<br />
<br />
So the cruel reindeer laugh and call him names (honestly couldn't Santa have picked a better crew??)<br />
That is, until that fateful foggy Xmas Eve when Santa came and singled out Rudolph.<br />
<i>"Hey Rudolph, I kind of like that thing you've got going in the middle of your face there, why don't you guide my sleigh tonight?"</i><br />
So maybe Santa felt sorry for him, or maybe Santa wanted to piss the other reindeer off, or maybe Rudolph was picked for his sleigh guiding abilities.. either way, that night, he was the man.<br />
<br />
It's the NEXT bit that really baffles me...<br />
<i>THEN</i> how the reindeer loved him... only THEN???? Only when Santa said <i>"hey this dude is ok"?? </i>There's no mention of the reindeer being repentant or of learning a lesson about bullying.. no, they only loved him because they were brown nosing Santa... <br />
Bad, bad lesson in that!<br />
<br />
If you ask me, Santa should have done away with them and picked a new crew and he probably should have interviewed for the sleigh guiding position and hired someone on merit and ability.<br />
<br />
But that's the world we live in isn't it.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
*******</div>
<br />
<span style="color: red;">I was challenged to come up with an alternate version of the song so here it is... set to the same tune of course!</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">You know Dasher and Dancer<br /> And Prancer and Vixen,<br /> Comet and Cupid<br /> And Donner and Blitzen.<br /> But do you recall<br /> The most famous reindeer of all?<br /> <br /> Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer<br /> Had a very shiny nose<br /> And if you ever saw it<br /> You would say his beauty shows<br /> <br /> All of the other reindeer<br /> Were mean and often called him names<br /> They never let poor Rudolph<br /> Play in any reindeer games<br /> <br /> Then one foggy Christmas Eve<br /> Santa came to say<br /> You're shitting me with your bicker all night<br /> So Rudolph guide my sleigh tonight<br /> Then all the rest were jealous,<br /> And they seethed internally.<br /> Santa has gone and sacked them,<br /> And Rudolph will make history...</span></i></div>
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<br />Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-84782059030922048872011-06-30T22:28:00.000+09:302011-06-30T22:28:09.285+09:30On being food delusional....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_3OS7_CN8nmzA5h3R0jFTZOHujGkuFRX3_aYD5FcwPYXymI0h8EofTLo0cOFPw0c5a-4ZCmgIDf9Sxd5oYM2pR_SgieNaiEdYdROSn43949PmjpIwKW7kt85n_SRGOWiv14wNZfRD6v4/s1600/baguette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_3OS7_CN8nmzA5h3R0jFTZOHujGkuFRX3_aYD5FcwPYXymI0h8EofTLo0cOFPw0c5a-4ZCmgIDf9Sxd5oYM2pR_SgieNaiEdYdROSn43949PmjpIwKW7kt85n_SRGOWiv14wNZfRD6v4/s320/baguette.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Do you really want to know who's making your food?<br />
<br />
When you go into a restaurant, are you happier if you can see the kitchen, or if it's nestled somewhere out the back out of customer view?<br />
While I understand the value of being able to see the kitchen (after all, if you can see them, they're more likely to use proper hygiene) I don't always want to know who's handled my food.<br />
I like to pretend my food just materialised like that, without any human handling... after all, you can't be grossed out by what you don't know about...<br />
<br />
Today at lunchtime, I went into one my regular convenience stores in the city and got a vegetarian baguette. It's not always there so my food obsessed heart did a little leap as I saw one remaining... behind the counter... just waiting to be consumed by me!<br />
<br />
So I asked for it and the girl behind the counter said "oh I made those today! I'll just get one for you"<br />
<br />
Now she wasn't excessively gross or grubby, but I did find myself assessing her after she'd told me she'd made it.<br />
Yeah ok, I'm strange like that. <br />
Of course, it didn't stop me from eating it but I just wish she hadn't told me and the fantasy of my baguette springing to life from nothing could have lived longer in my head.<br />
<br />
I've never thought too much about who handles my food until I started watching those cooking/restaurant shows on tv. Have you seen what they do on some of those shows??? And that's with the camera!! God knows what goes on in a normal restaurant kitchen where there are no cameras and no other eyes watching!<br />
I honestly don't want to know!<br />
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Who said delusions were a bad thing??Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-68325377737822226072011-06-22T21:29:00.001+09:302011-06-22T21:33:42.135+09:30But you said.....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhtmxfAYHgigvb89q5BPqnD5oIErwY1h6PjBL_eslf03Su9P3oCqkFejsIDKjvIS1R_u1wrJdV6KF8c1jSoNooROr4wGN9p-avh6Acc3J4au9OwP4lXA4TaBGF-JwegT9wmUQIbZgTosmD/s1600/preadult.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 319px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhtmxfAYHgigvb89q5BPqnD5oIErwY1h6PjBL_eslf03Su9P3oCqkFejsIDKjvIS1R_u1wrJdV6KF8c1jSoNooROr4wGN9p-avh6Acc3J4au9OwP4lXA4TaBGF-JwegT9wmUQIbZgTosmD/s400/preadult.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621012972562912338" border="0" /></a><br />The teenage brain is a curious thing.<br /><br />Recently Miss 16 came to ask me if she could attend a certain concert with her boyfriend.<br />Being the sometimes cautious mum that I am, I said she could go if she could get an adult to go with them...<br /><br />She shuffled away, brain cells churning no doubt, to see how she could make this happen.<br /><br />I had suggested asking her dad, or asking my brother, or another relative that might be interested in going...<br /><br />A few days later she bounded up to me, eyes shining brightly, barely able to keep her excitment level down.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"I found an adult!"</span><br /><br />Now I should add at this point, that Miss 16's boyfriend is 17 and just happens to have a birthday a few weeks before this concert that they both want to go to...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Steven is turning 18 just before the concert!"</span> she exclaimed. I think there may even have been a hint of<span style="font-style: italic;"> "a ha, gotcha!"</span> in her voice...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"That's fantastic for him. Why are you telling me?"</span> I replied..<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Because that means he'll be an adult!! And I'll be able to go to the conert with him! You said it had to be an adult!"</span><br /><br />And honest to god, she still doesn't get it...Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-12654852527568326652011-06-20T11:34:00.002+09:302011-06-20T11:38:15.552+09:30And now for the next attention seeking headline: Sibling Rivalry<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWx7gSEk706W3mab51VJd-oTPOjSVEiLw1rmKSpzAvblW9FpVMYRN02b-UtxYgJwJminfXD6Ul3DEJuPGs2cBt5yf9tAdiaG7IfgpW_YtxKeuqTR_MRksOiHMWTFHHpdteXzloIC0zKnJP/s1600/kate-and-pippa-middleton.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWx7gSEk706W3mab51VJd-oTPOjSVEiLw1rmKSpzAvblW9FpVMYRN02b-UtxYgJwJminfXD6Ul3DEJuPGs2cBt5yf9tAdiaG7IfgpW_YtxKeuqTR_MRksOiHMWTFHHpdteXzloIC0zKnJP/s320/kate-and-pippa-middleton.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620117528571422914" border="0" /></a><br />Sibling rivalry is sometimes hard enough to live with without having the eyes of the world scrutinising and interpreting every move you and your sibling make.<br /><br />I saw this headline today<br /><br /><a href="http://womansday.ninemsn.com.au/celebrity/celebrityheadlines/8262033/kate-vs-pippa-royal-rivals">Kate vs Pippa: Royal rivals</a><br /><br /><br />Really? You don't think Kate has enough of her hands right now? She has to worry about being upstaged by her sister? She got the prince, I think she's happy enough!<br /><br />They first sentence in this article states<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"As the Duchess steals the show at another wedding, the sisters’ lifelong rivalry over who is “thinnest and prettiest” heats up."</span><br /><br />Do you think they are really competing to get more accolades than the other?<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Sure, you got the prince, but everyone thinks my butt is better than yours so there!"</span><br /><br />So why do we flock to this stuff?<br />Why do we demand such articles?<br />Who is the winner here?<br />Pippa is now a celebrity in her own right. Why should she be compared to her sister?<br />Kate is now a princess, why does anything about her have to be compared to her sister?<br />Why can't these two just enjoy their own limelight? Why do they need to be compared?<br /><br />I'll tell you why... because we like controversy!<br />We like to think there's something going on so we can talk about how terrible it is over the water cooler or while we're getting out hair done, or sitting having coffee with the girls... It makes us feel better about our own lives if celebrities aren't having the perfect lives they're sometimes portrayed to have.<br /><br />And it works!<br />Magazines live on controversy!<br />A controversial story will win every time over a feel good story.<br /><br />I feel sorry for those girls. I just hope they have the maturity required to not give in to the public pressure and won't let a rift or sibling competition appear when there never would have been...Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-17690683895354135662011-06-09T12:10:00.004+09:302011-06-09T12:14:21.281+09:30When you don't want to be noticed...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8VUBu-f6K9QLPC-_XeuoE3yOzuTtkCyuhCFPPdoUt9gJ-tNeTVP7_RnXX8qt2TdHXkW1Pi85Ew1ckH5hJQcSn-T9Q3yBmyyybAljhbdYgEmcnlMH6OfFMgoofmejcjOAc0tTbAanPpwE/s1600/Photo0106.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8VUBu-f6K9QLPC-_XeuoE3yOzuTtkCyuhCFPPdoUt9gJ-tNeTVP7_RnXX8qt2TdHXkW1Pi85Ew1ckH5hJQcSn-T9Q3yBmyyybAljhbdYgEmcnlMH6OfFMgoofmejcjOAc0tTbAanPpwE/s400/Photo0106.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616044484069598946" border="0" /></a><br />It's no secret that I can tend to be obsessive about things.<br />Whether it's exercise, my diet plan, podcasts, writing music or whatever, I can go overboard.<br /><br />Today I stepped out of the office during my morning break to visit one of my favourite convenience stores.<br />It's the closest one where I can get Home Made Rice Custard from and I've got quite the taste for it lately...<br /><br />I thought I had been discreet.<br /><br />There are actually three convenience stores in walking distance that stock this rice custard and depending on where I am and how much time I've got, that will dictate which store I visit.<br /><br />I try to spread it out so that my obsession doesn't become apparant.<br /><br />I usually buy two at a time and always ask for two spoons... as if I'm buying for someone else too but no, it's just for me, no one else... and I have a drawer full of spoons at work...<br /><br />I thought I was being so clever and with the million people that go in and out of those stores every day, I thought I'd never be noticed but the guy behind the counter today said to me<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"You must really love those rice custards"</span><br /><br />I wasn't sure what he said so I asked him to repeat it and he did...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Those rice custards you get all the time. You must really love them"</span><br /><br />I was mortified once again...<br /><br />You can always tell when I haven't been there for a few days as stock builds up...<br />One store has even increased the price of them and I'm sure it's because I'm buying them all the time!<br /><br />I don't think it's going to kill my love of rice custard but I think I'll wait at least a few days before going into that particular convenience store again!Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-11307335493739801482011-06-01T13:18:00.002+09:302011-06-01T13:21:29.157+09:30When it may be time to change professions...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaSGTMPTVbHmbaVuUSbzQnBWA54ahYzrFbyAmzi9FWZqLzLL2XsVNNWe9eDU5qztd5FfY5t-6w9aZVOeYBwY2kyA848wnlzg5unEbY6Y4rjlS7mcrWRNZJ-flwChuogyDcSQHw8MY3dNQ1/s1600/salesreport.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613093366937830386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 276px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 350px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaSGTMPTVbHmbaVuUSbzQnBWA54ahYzrFbyAmzi9FWZqLzLL2XsVNNWe9eDU5qztd5FfY5t-6w9aZVOeYBwY2kyA848wnlzg5unEbY6Y4rjlS7mcrWRNZJ-flwChuogyDcSQHw8MY3dNQ1/s400/salesreport.png" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Recently I had the opportunity to hear a speaker and it was an interesting experience to say the least.</div><br /><div><br />This speaker didn't have english as her first language and while her command of it was very good, she did have some interesting pronunciations.</div><br /><div><br />For example, the word <em>"determine"</em> was pronounced almost as two words. "Deter" and "mine" (as in land mine)</div><br /><div>She was reading from a slide and this word, determine, kept appearing in the slides over and over again and all I could think was, <em>"is someone going to tell her??"</em></div><br /><div>I didn't tell her either so I guess I have to answer to myself too!</div><br /><div><br />Apart from the mispronunciations, this speaker was interesting to watch because of her lack of patience.<br />We had opportunity to ask questions at certain point and if you didn't get <em>it</em>, she would grow increasingly frustrated, to the point where she would roll her eyes and you just know she wanted to say <em>"listen you stupid moron, it's simple, just understand what I'm saying"</em></div><br /><div>The trouble was, everytime she repeated herself, she said the <em>SAME </em>thing. </div><br /><div>If someone doesn't get it, best practice is to say it another way! It doesn't do anyone any good to just repeat the same thing over and over again. Everyone she did this too eventually gave up and we just discussed it amongst ourselves later.</div><br /><div><br />We were respectful to her despite all that. Even when she decided to mispronounce names. </div><br /><div>Our names were all clearly displayed yet she insisted on calling "Joan", "Joanne". </div><br /><div>One time when she did this, a few of us giggled a little too loud and she shot her head around and said <em>"what's so funny? what are you laughing at?"</em></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Touchy much?</div><br /><div><br />Probably just as well we didn't point out the "determine" thing.</div><br /><div><br />While it was entertaining, it's a shame we didn't get to learn as much as we might have done if we'd had another speaker...</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-42239608595701526442011-05-24T05:42:00.002+09:302011-05-24T05:47:56.249+09:30First Impressions?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNp51ZeIY05fm_R7u0VGIdeXosgaDUdAkEDMaDmPCDySfmBLhyphenhyphenLjxBjwwY3-p_oLjbwjk8mDLqLyC8CXb2blgDifOuvpuh1kpcsRFY5TCtVZ_8oe7exS-CIHhoi0auY_jgR2lwg3eZ9MP/s1600/Friends_2_tnb.png"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 350px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNp51ZeIY05fm_R7u0VGIdeXosgaDUdAkEDMaDmPCDySfmBLhyphenhyphenLjxBjwwY3-p_oLjbwjk8mDLqLyC8CXb2blgDifOuvpuh1kpcsRFY5TCtVZ_8oe7exS-CIHhoi0auY_jgR2lwg3eZ9MP/s400/Friends_2_tnb.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610008165331403890" border="0" /></a><br />Recently I found myself in a situation where I was with someone who I was only barely aquainted with.<br />I don't consider myself a shy person but I think everyone in that situation thinks <span style="font-style: italic;">"what are we going to talk about?"</span><br />And as time passed I realised that if there was going to be any conversation, I'd have to be the one making it.<br /><br />As I learnt from The Brady Bunch, the best way to make people talk is to ask them questions about their favourite subject... themselves..<br />I started doing that but her answers were so abrupt I felt like I was prying even though I was only asking questions about her work. It's hard to converse when you don't get those same questions back!<br /><br />But by the end of our time together she relaxed considerably and was talking a lot more freely. Later she thanked me over and over again for helping her out with something earlier that day.<br /><br />So I'm glad I persisted in trying to talk to her. I felt like she thought I was prying but obviously she was just shy or perhaps reserved.<br />Just goes to show, first impressions aren't always valid..Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-45873172509310256562011-05-20T06:45:00.001+09:302011-05-20T06:49:24.625+09:30"Come to the edge" he said...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigV3qxlPe3I3s5uA-QzJdImZCJ5XjHR_KJo8oWFML21YziRl1g26SZ9VC1SvRUIUSGuXd_SZqWHPx0QHfUUDvHLMUdMs9_ghY9G2sclQC-Obvtbc-bbGuRtVpIDbZ12Jp1f4u10Eqp-4Zz/s1600/silhouttecliffsmall.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 486px; height: 364px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigV3qxlPe3I3s5uA-QzJdImZCJ5XjHR_KJo8oWFML21YziRl1g26SZ9VC1SvRUIUSGuXd_SZqWHPx0QHfUUDvHLMUdMs9_ghY9G2sclQC-Obvtbc-bbGuRtVpIDbZ12Jp1f4u10Eqp-4Zz/s400/silhouttecliffsmall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608539703129127986" border="0" /></a><br /><div class="content"><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><ul style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><i>"Come to the edge" he said,<br />"We can't, we are afraid" they said...</i></span><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><i>"Come to the edge"<br />"We can't, we will fall"<br />"Come to the edge"<br />and they came<br />and he pushed them<br />and they flew.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Guillaume Appollinaire</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></p></ul> </div>Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-53555328825931237062011-05-15T07:17:00.006+09:302011-05-15T07:32:15.086+09:30Not long now...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDItAmV2EM6fwG7WAbJx6r-CTwWMrL21Bse8MYMKKSuyi9Nvb5-z2dSbnbnSpRmaB0RxHlWm6XFxkrYWaVk3CDGqHe0rM4N85gp_J7WAvh0ZcYtuagg1zCPXfAOAGB_sPXb8Tm2drLkxiP/s1600/noahknewbillboard-small.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDItAmV2EM6fwG7WAbJx6r-CTwWMrL21Bse8MYMKKSuyi9Nvb5-z2dSbnbnSpRmaB0RxHlWm6XFxkrYWaVk3CDGqHe0rM4N85gp_J7WAvh0ZcYtuagg1zCPXfAOAGB_sPXb8Tm2drLkxiP/s400/noahknewbillboard-small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606692255951794098" border="0" /></a><br />I tried to let this go, I really did, but as the date approaches, I'm more and more concerned about why people allow themselves to believe ridiculous things.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.wecanknow.com/">This website </a>is claiming that the rapture is occurring on May 21st and the end of the world will follow on October 21 2011.<br />It doesn't specify what time zone that is by the way...<br /><br />And it kind of sucks if your birthday is on the 22ND doesn't it?... or even after October 21ST...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2uWh_qvcHvqGOlceyQ8J9oiOp1Ta0_WGgM6uNKpN1W5OtoaTmkD8Y6keQTAlsF5j58gvcO5QG6apdp3ULR9w8M1iZK2i_fCyH1T5yQAspm4tRy1hhj9OlN_fx1IQGCchl8RJ_VaQ8LOVn/s1600/grandcentral.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2uWh_qvcHvqGOlceyQ8J9oiOp1Ta0_WGgM6uNKpN1W5OtoaTmkD8Y6keQTAlsF5j58gvcO5QG6apdp3ULR9w8M1iZK2i_fCyH1T5yQAspm4tRy1hhj9OlN_fx1IQGCchl8RJ_VaQ8LOVn/s400/grandcentral.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606693685405665794" border="0" /></a><br />I have to wonder if the people who run the website, really do believe that the world is going to end?<br />This isn't just a website, this is a movement. They've had billboards up all over the place in America, and probably other parts of the world too.<br />They were giving out free promotional material to advertise the end of the world but their website claims <a href="http://www.wecanknow.com/stickerrequest.php">they're not doing it anymore because the retu</a><a href="http://www.wecanknow.com/stickerrequest.php">rn of their lord is really really close, so there's not enough</a><a href="http://www.wecanknow.com/stickerrequest.php"> time...</a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This is a quote from their website<br />"This web site serves as an introduction and portal to four faithful ministries which are teaching that WE CAN KNOW from the Bible alone that the date of the rapture of believers will take place on May 21, 2011 and that God will destroy this world on October 21, 2011."<br /><br /><br />But I wonder if they've made preparations for the end of the world?<br />Have they given up all their money and possessions? After all, after May 22ND they won't be needing it anymore...<br /><br />You see it's funny, until you see the reality of the situation.<br />If these people really truly believe it (and you can bet they probably do if they've spent all they have on getting the message out there) what is going to happen to them when they discover they're still here on May 22ND?<br />Will they feel betrayed? Will they think they weren't worthy of the rapture and look ahead to the end of the world in October?<br /><br />My guess is they'll quickly make up a reason and change the date...<br />and continue on as if plan B was the original plan in the first place.<br /><br />I myself am interested in <a href="http://www.wecantknow.com/">this site</a><br />which is<a href="http://www.wecantknow.com/"> "countdown to backpedaling"</a> and that is exactly what's going to happen.<br /><br />I so want to take these people, shake them about while screaming <span style="font-style: italic;">"USE YOUR BRAIN!!!!"</span> but it probably wouldn't do any good...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8iK-CkJAoaocBjkGM8gA6H1x3hUPyu3T0n1x_vgIupoovqwM_GDW0XH2G_7sZXwe7CdzL9tMWnKOeuAFwzXmY9sdHuqAB_HBNvvcttvYlmSPdl7-2WTrS3lEv9h1mMNtl2f-DhXi0ZNC/s1600/billboardinghana.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 488px; height: 365px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8iK-CkJAoaocBjkGM8gA6H1x3hUPyu3T0n1x_vgIupoovqwM_GDW0XH2G_7sZXwe7CdzL9tMWnKOeuAFwzXmY9sdHuqAB_HBNvvcttvYlmSPdl7-2WTrS3lEv9h1mMNtl2f-DhXi0ZNC/s400/billboardinghana.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606695083259409634" border="0" /></a>Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-44915105390600405442011-05-14T06:37:00.007+09:302011-05-14T06:58:24.673+09:30Quick, grab your camera, she's eating!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzZhQ6JJwB1xKMQz-k-MWFuRW2DnOh7qooj6z2pUm5oKNlQc1FrpmE_GyYOEU73yj2XWiU7FACa5-RYGJj8BOclZRA-nH5-CMVQ0hhMi2Eq22VtnyNRU0EKRKg4UEMc9E91y69hgraW8dQ/s1600/kirstie+alley+bikini+oprah.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 221px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzZhQ6JJwB1xKMQz-k-MWFuRW2DnOh7qooj6z2pUm5oKNlQc1FrpmE_GyYOEU73yj2XWiU7FACa5-RYGJj8BOclZRA-nH5-CMVQ0hhMi2Eq22VtnyNRU0EKRKg4UEMc9E91y69hgraW8dQ/s320/kirstie+alley+bikini+oprah.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606311494650714018" border="0" /></a><br />Ok so she's thin, she puts on weight, she takes it off, she walks around in a bikini (with a sarong) on Oprah, she puts on weight, she takes it off... I mean please! Give the woman a break!<br /><br />Some of us have a harder time when it comes to weight and weight related issues. I count myself in that group.<br /><br /><br /><br />Can you imagine if yo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZocYrW9WRwrJtPKGvoGuQqdmAJnfEsCwsl6twWjiAvv-XgAAEqwYgzwzrdGzzx722M-HfjfF3ZEshkA0IjQJEODkhyphenhyphenIh_3tUE9Fe9zKa2_yNDcH-EjZTuCfGR46hVBYIFUX1o6m-fIHa/s1600/kirstie+alley+fat.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZocYrW9WRwrJtPKGvoGuQqdmAJnfEsCwsl6twWjiAvv-XgAAEqwYgzwzrdGzzx722M-HfjfF3ZEshkA0IjQJEODkhyphenhyphenIh_3tUE9Fe9zKa2_yNDcH-EjZTuCfGR46hVBYIFUX1o6m-fIHa/s320/kirstie+alley+fat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606311593156226370" border="0" /></a>u're Kirstie Alley, battling through food addiction and weight fluctuations, the same fluctuations that a lot of us face in life, but having it portrayed for the world to see?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-4RydQdxlnWD6_DjU-k4UXpubKDIXdcGrddIT_pBbQANLMpcFeUAHnRvg39V7fDVfrJ6RVf11P5tMsnJXfeP6UJ3djYBIoeATQKZGNAWMYtbKBF4K9Zg1GNokB8gHTpHdswD_zd-EqoX/s1600/kirstie-alley-freaking-fat-2009.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 310px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-4RydQdxlnWD6_DjU-k4UXpubKDIXdcGrddIT_pBbQANLMpcFeUAHnRvg39V7fDVfrJ6RVf11P5tMsnJXfeP6UJ3djYBIoeATQKZGNAWMYtbKBF4K9Zg1GNokB8gHTpHdswD_zd-EqoX/s320/kirstie-alley-freaking-fat-2009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606311824342512690" border="0" /></a><br />Can you imagine your image being plastered out there to the world every time you decided to have a piece of cake? Doesn't matter if that was your first piece in months, the world is going to judge you for it!<br /><br /><br /><br />The poor girl has to justify herself every time she's caught eating something caloric. She's asked about her weight all the time. Really it's not the only thing she's known for! Can we get off this food thing already? We get it! She has a problem with food! So leave the poor girl alone because she <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">has </span>a mirror! She knows! She doesn't need for it to be brought up and rubbed in her face continually.<br /><br /><br />The final straw for me came this week when it was reported she was only having 150 calories a day while on the <a href="http://abc.go.com/shows/dancing-with-the-stars%20show">"Dancing with the Stars"</a> and had collapsed on stage... the next day, there's an article saying <a href="http://www.x17online.com/celebrities/kirstie_alley/exclusive_ph%20%20otos_kirstie_alley_eats_dancing_with_the_stars_rehearsal_maksim%20%20_dwts_051111.php">"Kirsty Alley Eats"</a><br /><br />Are you kidding me?? This is news?<br /><br />She must be a pretty strong person because I can tell you if it were me, I would have gone into hiding by now!<br /><br />All I'm saying is we all have things we have to work on. Lets leave the non important stuff and for god sakes, lets work on ourselves instead of picking on others no matter how much easier and comfortable that is to do...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg21LefkbbnxQxALgpTOKXbW9dXfZFKRJt9ixl2bhrOIjYhHcRY6ES6vkEaAO4gdSVkwTW5Vlo31vlUDyV3RUBbyium5yFBI12iLEQigQcfQQJOOqdVXiajOQOOXS6mavc6zZAuBDTtOQyR/s1600/kirstie-alley-skinny-and-fat21.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg21LefkbbnxQxALgpTOKXbW9dXfZFKRJt9ixl2bhrOIjYhHcRY6ES6vkEaAO4gdSVkwTW5Vlo31vlUDyV3RUBbyium5yFBI12iLEQigQcfQQJOOqdVXiajOQOOXS6mavc6zZAuBDTtOQyR/s320/kirstie-alley-skinny-and-fat21.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606312214115842834" border="0" /></a>Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-52238017564930585242011-05-11T17:43:00.006+09:302011-05-11T17:53:03.305+09:30When Brilliance May Be Over-rated<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEdAsSYcn94bTV4D3GDbe3-Ts4kqu-hDnC5-xejNUsPW5R_BTZbALKQ8pQgx6pjhSmWm_k-ShWIqn2533RD9Mcv8lyaUMGg5NvHynf-IhKZcoJKSMAfXmEWPtD50NomuU_IzQ-dr36aHwg/s1600/sleeping+girl.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEdAsSYcn94bTV4D3GDbe3-Ts4kqu-hDnC5-xejNUsPW5R_BTZbALKQ8pQgx6pjhSmWm_k-ShWIqn2533RD9Mcv8lyaUMGg5NvHynf-IhKZcoJKSMAfXmEWPtD50NomuU_IzQ-dr36aHwg/s200/sleeping+girl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605369566449053890" border="0" /></a><br />It's amazing what can go through your mind in the wee hours of the morning.<br />At times I've created songs or paragraphs of prose that I swore were brilliant. I would wake up cursing myself that I hadn't recorded this wonderful creativity.<br /><br />I decided to put this to the test and kept a pad by my bedside so I could record this brilliance and discovered that my self assessment wasn't so accurate in the cold hard light of day.<br /><br />Similarly, I've made a decision to do this or that as I'm tossing and turning at 4am. It seems like such a good idea at the time and I can hardly wait to get up so I can carry out whatever it is that's come into my head to do...<br />Write this person an email,<br />send this acquaintance a card to cheer them up,<br />call or text someone who might not be expecting it...<br /><br />By the time I'm up and dressed I realise that the great idea may not be so great after all and may have even caused a whole lot of problems if I'd carried it out!<br />Please don't tell me this only happens to me...<br /><br />I've had a lot of trouble sleeping lately so I've had the chance to see this phenomenon in action...<br /><br />I <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">now</span> know not to act on any half asleep thoughts until my mind and body are in sync.<br /><br />Although I have to say I was a lot happier when I thought I was a brilliant composer without having to provide the evidence!!!Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-85942295640381186072011-05-07T10:27:00.005+09:302011-05-07T10:49:44.786+09:30Mummy, Mum, Mother<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf7S9QiGxKWKxD4Z2buKXmEgThyphenhyphen6BGfv4qQqikfTm9MzBev-EmO50hMHuBeMKspBMZVU3tlM86rbu-AqTB4bYeLZ0npRBLznL6BvPKZu6wVgYvAXhlZgLD-gbdbxJzaSDwrLWvej5zTnYN/s1600/mother-child-silhouette-cli.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 153px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf7S9QiGxKWKxD4Z2buKXmEgThyphenhyphen6BGfv4qQqikfTm9MzBev-EmO50hMHuBeMKspBMZVU3tlM86rbu-AqTB4bYeLZ0npRBLznL6BvPKZu6wVgYvAXhlZgLD-gbdbxJzaSDwrLWvej5zTnYN/s200/mother-child-silhouette-cli.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603773276534502754" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >The Images of Mother<span class="ecxEC_apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > 4 YEARS OF AGE - My Mummy can do anything!</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" class="ecxEC_apple-converted-space" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" >8 YEARS OF AGE - My Mum knows a lot! A whole lot!</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" class="ecxEC_apple-converted-space" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > 12 YEARS OF AGE - My Mother doesn't really know quite </span></span><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" >everything.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" class="ecxEC_apple-converted-space" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" >14 YEARS OF AGE - Naturally, Mother doesn't know th</span></span><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" >at, either.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" class="ecxEC_apple-converted-space" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > 16 YEARS OF AGE - Mother? She's hopelessly old-fashi</span></span><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" >oned.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" class="ecxEC_apple-converted-space" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > 18 YEARS OF AGE - That old woman? She's way out of date!</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" class="ecxEC_apple-converted-space" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > 25 YEARS OF AGE - Well, she might know a little bit about it!</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" class="ecxEC_apple-converted-space" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > 35 YEARS OF AGE - Before we decide, let's get Mum's opinion.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" class="ecxEC_apple-converted-space" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > 45 YEAR S OF AGE - Wonder what Mum would have thought about it?</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" class="ecxEC_apple-converted-space" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" > 65 YEARS OF AGE - Wish I could talk it over with Mum.</span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><span style="font-size:13.5pt;color:black;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span></span>Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-82389476826665796042011-05-03T05:38:00.003+09:302011-05-03T05:41:48.833+09:30When you don't learn the first time...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtnqOa3zRlgPV5PstDCSsmNvA0nGa-dechxtZoTFz45p-3OW86C6Am0BV6MwqhuUVvyUFQyO9Ml7U9q9rjbdKhhJjLHo7OeIZagVCQsPKwJdjZswZPXnZKHhQ7_DkNTrUfURBhdbE4hBNA/s1600/homer+slaps+forehead.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 295px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtnqOa3zRlgPV5PstDCSsmNvA0nGa-dechxtZoTFz45p-3OW86C6Am0BV6MwqhuUVvyUFQyO9Ml7U9q9rjbdKhhJjLHo7OeIZagVCQsPKwJdjZswZPXnZKHhQ7_DkNTrUfURBhdbE4hBNA/s320/homer+slaps+forehead.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602213321648102914" border="0" /></a>Last last year, Master Fifteen had the misfortune of leaving his laptop on the school bus.<br /><br />Fortunately for him, it was found by an honest student who took it home, and together with her father, worked out who it belonged to and contacted us.<br /><br />I went to their place the following morning with Master Fifteen and a box of chocolates to thank them.<br />They were really very nice people..<br /><br /><br />Today, I got a text from Miss Sixteen to say that Master Fifteen had left his mobile phone on the bus and they only realised it when they got off...<br />I tried calling the phone a few times but there was no answer. Master Fifteen later told me he'd had the phone on silent.<br /><br />So I texted the phone to say if anyone found it, could they please call me.<br /><br />It's not a special phone but people do like the <span style="font-style: italic;">"finders keepers"</span> rule so I didn't have high expectations of getting it back...<br /><br />Later that night I got a phone call from an unknown number and almost immediately recognised the voice.<br /><br />He started to tell me his daughter had found a phone on the bus...<br /><br />All I could think was <span style="font-style: italic;">"please don't let him ask my name or Master Fifteen's name"</span> but he did.... and then he said<span style="font-style: italic;"> "Was that the same person who left a laptop on the bus a little while ago?"</span><br /><br />Yesiree... same boy...<br /><br />We arranged for his daughter (who found the phone... the same girl who'd found the laptop) to bring the phone to student reception tomorrow and Master Fifteen will pick it up from there.<br />The voice added <span style="font-style: italic;">"I think I'll put it in an envelope, along with a staple gun so he doesn't forget his things anymore"</span><br /><br />Oh, it was embarrassing...<br /><br />But they are really nice people...<br /><br />Even so, please Master Fifteen, NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-48289605598568589082011-05-02T15:35:00.004+09:302011-05-02T15:38:56.526+09:30What's in your handbag?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgwLRTt-n_zZGkE39W_d7lf-bSdF0Q6MeBkFvpjs6KeTZCIincqFOouSNg-zpj0jA8WQ1jHoJhlIo5lV6U746yVljvue9Hl4ALQFPlBp5QQ3-fAbT3hsULW-QqS6gnbpBvXa9s9pNE5frE/s1600/handbag.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgwLRTt-n_zZGkE39W_d7lf-bSdF0Q6MeBkFvpjs6KeTZCIincqFOouSNg-zpj0jA8WQ1jHoJhlIo5lV6U746yVljvue9Hl4ALQFPlBp5QQ3-fAbT3hsULW-QqS6gnbpBvXa9s9pNE5frE/s320/handbag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601996238190031026" border="0" /></a><br />I once read an article where they claimed they could tell what sort of woman you were, by what you carried around in your handbag...<br /><br /><br />I was reminded of this article just this week as I felt my handbag was heavier than normal and decided to do a clean out.<br />It's really amazing what you'll find in there!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I had a pair of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Thorlos</span></span> (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ok</span> so that was because I knew I'd be buying running shoes and had to have my running socks with me to measure my foot accurately...)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ipod</span> charger</span> (cos having a dead <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ipod</span> battery is never acceptable)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ipod</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My phone</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Addoku</span> puzzle book</span> (for those times when I'm waiting and there's just nothing to do)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Belly Button ring</span> (My first and original one that I wore for eight years... still haven't put it away after changing to my new one...)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">About 15 pens....</span> (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ok</span> I can't think of a reason why I have so many, maybe they just breed?)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Notebook</span> (for when blog idea is just burning inside me...)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Purse</span> (Full of cards and other crap that I won't go into now)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Voltaren</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Osteo</span> Gel </span>(for when you just need it)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Migraine pills</span> (see above)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lens Cleaner</span> (To clean my glasses but I don't really use them... The cleaner was a freebie given out at the train station one morning)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Glasses</span> (as stated, don't use them though but you just never know when...)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">USB</span></span> (No further explanation necessary)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Train time table</span>,<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Voice Recorder </span>(for Chorus)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Batteries</span> (well... to use when required)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1001 receipts</span> (In case I ever have to return that item... although finding the individual rcpt for that may be tricky)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">paper clips</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Crumbs</span></span> (honestly I have no idea)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Two or three dress rings</span> (for when I just have to wear them)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lady products</span>,<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">More headphones</span> (in case the ones I'm using don't work anymore)<br /><br />And a <span style="font-weight: bold;">picture of my dad</span><br /><br />So there you have it... That's what in my handbag!<br /><br />So what's in yours??Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-30312166490235279442011-04-29T12:08:00.004+09:302011-04-29T12:12:26.725+09:30My Secret Lover...<div><br /><div><br /><em>I recently found an old blog and plucked this entry out of it....</em></div><br /><div><em>Who knew I'd been such a bad girl?</em></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><br /><span style="color:#663300;">How can I live without you?</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;">I was kidding myself when I made the decision to banish you from my life.<br />The memories of our sweet times fill my mind. Over and over they torment me. You call me… from wherever you are, you call me, tempting me always to once again give in you. How I want to give in.. oh how I want to surrender myself to you. </span></div><br /><div><br /><span style="color:#663300;">Even when I’m not with you, I think of you. I dream of you caressing my lips and I, gently licking you all over. Licking, sucking,.. sometimes the urge is just too great and I have to take you all in right away. All I want is to share in you. You’re so sweet. Your appeal is so apparent to all who know you. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;">How can my passion be wrong?<br />How can something so pure, so perfect, have such terrible consequences. </span></div><br /><div><br /><span style="color:#663300;">It’s true, my love for you is an obsession. That’s why I’m having such a hard time letting go of you.. but I promised I would and I’m doing all that I can to keep that promise. </span></div><br /><div><br /><span style="color:#663300;">Four days it’s been since you touched my lips… </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;">Four days since I lay in the ecstasy of having indulged in your sweetness, your allure.<br />Four days since your aroma started the feelings in me which cannot be denied. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;">I must have you. </span></div><br /><div><br /><span style="color:#663300;">I will see you in secret. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;">I will seek you out and together we can sate this burning desire that grows minute by minute within me. Oh I need you, I need you right now! </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTeevXhnxt4bBI4x7u7sCwLe-IFp8_T7P45tb_9mYfTQhqrQopjYGnlja5CiIAc3tx7mtRisa2ed_yuTh3DgFYTfPZUSprQbpb_7gh3vL1ieCuYnaW_gEzivbmsaTOZKsdy3ENqf0T7Of/s1600/chocolate_lover.JPG"><span style="color:#663300;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600829473267658210" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTeevXhnxt4bBI4x7u7sCwLe-IFp8_T7P45tb_9mYfTQhqrQopjYGnlja5CiIAc3tx7mtRisa2ed_yuTh3DgFYTfPZUSprQbpb_7gh3vL1ieCuYnaW_gEzivbmsaTOZKsdy3ENqf0T7Of/s400/chocolate_lover.JPG" border="0" /></span></a></div><br /><div><br /><span style="color:#663300;">Wait for me lover, I’m coming to you…</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;">Listen for me as I whisper your name….<br />.<br />. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;">.</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;"><em>Chocolate… chocolate… chocolate…..</em> </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;"><br />My first and only true love….</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#330000;"></span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600829551300794050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 332px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqLWjKJnFtkaF-Dg0S12WJl8Npo0Qx99LCBsR5MV8CkvP7L7egBfcBPjxlTYTAVbFMkJ2CPYUGkzNuWyvo3yT7-Zhmdcx7pfyCa-AN_zCoK-s0jwDU1u4SEZHjkERueR3uKGUAhpa8712P/s400/Chocolate-Cartoon.jpg" border="0" /></div>Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-76954143196720855632011-04-28T12:21:00.002+09:302011-04-28T12:25:05.353+09:30When Happiness Is Catchy...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIFUKHNKVjFNd8YyxX-8Mn2dwvq-R-g8C33MhwxoBwEhmb2p8iGM26_n22X11JshnwVTEf851ucQyhCTu8EKSOw3svMO4QEPuvnvep98ADvHNOsJzyYSbb33VfUWCBY9S0lMdp2ODyWmv/s1600/roymorene.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600461951612655106" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIFUKHNKVjFNd8YyxX-8Mn2dwvq-R-g8C33MhwxoBwEhmb2p8iGM26_n22X11JshnwVTEf851ucQyhCTu8EKSOw3svMO4QEPuvnvep98ADvHNOsJzyYSbb33VfUWCBY9S0lMdp2ODyWmv/s400/roymorene.jpg" border="0" /></a> I had another strange but not unpleasant experience this morning.<br /><br />I had taken an earlier train in to the city because I wanted to go to Priceline in Hindley street before work. It's close by and they open at 8am...<br /><br />I got there about 7.55am so I was waiting on the corner for them to open, when I noticed a kind of straggly looking woman, trying to take a photo of herself with the statue that's just outside the store.<br />The statue is of Roy "Mo" Rene... an Australian comedian from about 80 years ago.<br /><br />She had a few teeth missing but she was happy enough and talked to whoever was walking by, even if they didn't talk back and just kept walking...<br /><br />She took photo after photo but kept lamenting her failures out loud <em>"oh it's too close", "I'm not on the picture", "that photo is all head!"</em> etc etc.<br /><br />I found her strangely endearing.<br />Maybe it was her happy demeaner.. I don't know.. but I inched closer and it wasn't long before she looked up and smiled at me.<br />I asked her if she wanted me to take the photo for her and she grinned like a little girl.<br /><br />As I got closer I smelt a strong smell of alcohol and at 7.55am in the morning, that's a pretty good effort! But she was so happy you couldn't help but want some of that happiness too!<br /><br />So I took her phone and snapped a picture of her kissing the statue. I almost asked if she could text it to me so I could remember the occassion too...<br /><br />She hugged me and thanked me then told me she was sending the photo to her nan in Sydney. She was going to tell her nan that she met her ideal man and this just cracked her up. She also told me that she needed a man like this now as her husband was dead. It was just blurted out bluntly like that.<br /><br />She hugged me again and gave me a kiss on the cheek, wished me a happy easter (for 2012?) and hugged me for a third time.<br /><br />And then Priceline opened and she was off and suddenly the day didn't seem so bad after all...Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-60354587391203563202011-04-26T08:41:00.007+09:302011-04-26T08:56:04.507+09:30You don't have to have any, just have some...When it comes to food, this past long weekend was certainly a challenging one.<br />I come from a background where excess is good.<br />My grandparents had nothing growing up, so when it came to food, the more they could get, the better...<br />And then food become plentiful but that mindset was still there...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Take as much as you want; take as much as you can.</span><br /></div><br />So as a child, portions were always huge but I didn't see it as huge. That was just normal.<br />My dad used to eat his pasta accompanied by bread so I tried to do the same, sometimes making myself sick but it seemed to make him happy when I ate..<br /><br />At 18, I hosted my first dinner party with a friend and we served three huge courses followed by coffee and more little cakes and biscuits to about fifteen people.<br />This was a normal Sunday lunch for us and we couldn't understand why everyone was saying there was so much food. We thought they were just being polite!<br /><br /><br />So this Easter Sunday we were at my mothers house and she had so much food. I'd asked her if there was anything I could bring and she said "maybe a sweet?" so I made my low fat cheesecake... but even as I was making it I knew she would have more than enough dessert there and my cheesecake would just be superfluous.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQ5KXaHij6tgyHj_q0Kp6edlreOhb-H2PL_eMqqV9IOS1Qm_qA2B-ZXHT7oYgssqOTIA0V2Z839y5DZdmgcR3ltIRs3De6H9Hi1LkhhMiqEz2w3OPd-qzwH_CqrLNAYl_NiOM6K418VSF/s1600/DSC_0062d.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQ5KXaHij6tgyHj_q0Kp6edlreOhb-H2PL_eMqqV9IOS1Qm_qA2B-ZXHT7oYgssqOTIA0V2Z839y5DZdmgcR3ltIRs3De6H9Hi1LkhhMiqEz2w3OPd-qzwH_CqrLNAYl_NiOM6K418VSF/s200/DSC_0062d.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599665302401330034" border="0" /></a><br />The table was set with tasty nibbles.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhauxSqsa1GU6jqdiEtxoHD0puJb3OqVE6I7wyIJcR0rYuIqqG-Usdf-GKb3ot8ZfpmUNtyqXfkNqZtFZa-3z3YDLxwu_Uiz4fFrDOfAyWPzun2wILykIUSgJGWteRDAHyoKb4CZF9q8X/s1600/DSC_0049d.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhauxSqsa1GU6jqdiEtxoHD0puJb3OqVE6I7wyIJcR0rYuIqqG-Usdf-GKb3ot8ZfpmUNtyqXfkNqZtFZa-3z3YDLxwu_Uiz4fFrDOfAyWPzun2wILykIUSgJGWteRDAHyoKb4CZF9q8X/s200/DSC_0049d.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599665567649010578" border="0" /></a><br />More than you can imagine... then we had delicious, melt in your mouth ravioli...<br /><br /><br />followed by fillet Mignon and at least five side dishes of unbelievable quality.<br /><br /><br />It's very hard to say no!!<br /><br /><br /><br />Instead of resting our tummies before dessert, my mum started bringing out the chocolates and biscuits and ice-cream. Not wanting my cheesecake to feel left out, I brought that out too and started serving it up.<br /><br />I <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Ju5HzTGIUBgO1knBL-tsbtagEY-Zydgqp-p7qeu47RBqrysAISSAPdL4tTkw28hBBA4fImBPD1JO4EKwBLNwoXmHOIcDHUTVR78GqX2hlU92t53j18PECvkTEv8FBIaxWBVbcR6UL5rX/s1600/DSC_0101c.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Ju5HzTGIUBgO1knBL-tsbtagEY-Zydgqp-p7qeu47RBqrysAISSAPdL4tTkw28hBBA4fImBPD1JO4EKwBLNwoXmHOIcDHUTVR78GqX2hlU92t53j18PECvkTEv8FBIaxWBVbcR6UL5rX/s320/DSC_0101c.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599664382281136514" border="0" /></a>was just dishing up the last piece of cheesecake (to which I mother added several scoops of gelati) when she slapped her forehead saying <span style="font-style: italic;">"Oh, I forgot the rice-cake!!! Nadia can you go get the rice-cake from the fridge?"</span><br /><br />There was a collective groan as we all held our stomachs and said <span style="font-style: italic;">"no</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> please, we're so full, there's just no room for it!"</span><br /><br />And my mother classically replied <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"No, you don't have to have any, just have some"</span><br /><br />And that's the motto..... You don't have to have any, just have some....<br /><br />Because of course, it doesn't count if you don't mean to have it.<br />It doesn't count if you just cut off a sliver at a time and eat that.<br />It doesn't count if the piece doesn't actually make it to a plate.<br />If you just spoon some out of the dish directly to your mouth, you aren't really having it!<br /><br />It was pretty cute and we all had a giggle over it....<br /><br /><br />Deno had cycled and I had run that morning but we felt so bad we went for a 9kms walk after we got home...<br />But that was Sunday... and Monday was still to come!<br /><br />Mon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaOs1jwEgxgJL2S25Zp-JznHvOHVic5IbLX_Zo6OeXinLZ83QdfAbntWw6whQGAuxCV4rnJBe1cq7Z0z_JNvT0N4pcMlhrq-cjdsCvh0xAZDHAmWb5xCN-_MlxQBZOJM_cdWhF55DCgVra/s1600/DSC_0001e.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaOs1jwEgxgJL2S25Zp-JznHvOHVic5IbLX_Zo6OeXinLZ83QdfAbntWw6whQGAuxCV4rnJBe1cq7Z0z_JNvT0N4pcMlhrq-cjdsCvh0xAZDHAmWb5xCN-_MlxQBZOJM_cdWhF55DCgVra/s200/DSC_0001e.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599665949931950498" border="0" /></a>day we went to my sister in law Kelly's place and she'd created a similar feast! And it was just all so tasty! BBQ'd meats, spicy meatballs and guacamole, scalloped potatoes, ricotta cannelloni, salad... not to mention the tasty dips and bits and pieces that were already on the table. When did she have time to do all this!<br /><br />For dessert she had a lemon meringue pie AND apple crumble and although I love my desserts, I just couldn't... I just couldn't even look at it I'm so over food!<br /><br /><br />But at least I won't have to cook this week as I had a fridge full of left overs!!!<br /><br />And remember, if you don't want it, you don't have to have it, just have some....Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-20129339151310208612011-04-19T22:14:00.003+09:302011-04-19T22:18:42.225+09:30Margot's Low Fat Berry Cheesecake<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoyRLGwV_NGhNqGKRXldt7ByzZTjM5aSI7KkHB3gMYhrfjr19SgLrMMODbgPCQEXCo_zUMWQyScuEKgRBfOleXDnp26-QzS9pPsgoR8y492TT0tw5Nt_HVD-za7DxlQHpKfC3zf95T-RYe/s1600/DSC_0002d.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 167px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoyRLGwV_NGhNqGKRXldt7ByzZTjM5aSI7KkHB3gMYhrfjr19SgLrMMODbgPCQEXCo_zUMWQyScuEKgRBfOleXDnp26-QzS9pPsgoR8y492TT0tw5Nt_HVD-za7DxlQHpKfC3zf95T-RYe/s400/DSC_0002d.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597274896357030066" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">This is my own personal recipe so if you make it, I hope you like it!<br />It's a low fat but very tasty version of a classic favourite...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And I'm pretty sure I got the measurements right......</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />BASE</span><br />2 x 250gm packed of sweet wholemeal biscuits crushed<br />1 tsp ground cinnamon<br />200gms butter (I used low fat margarine) melted<br />2 x 425gms cans stoneless cherries<br />Berry jam (I used strawberry)<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Filling and Decoration</span><br /><br />1kg low fat cottage cheese<br />1 cup icing sugar<br />500gms low fat berry yogurt (I used yoplait forme - strawberry)<br />7 tablespoons lemon<br />2 tablespoons gelatin<br />1 450 gms packed frozen berries (I used season choice Three Berry Mix)<br /><br /><br /><br />1 Mix together the crushed biscuits, cinnamon and butter in a mixing bowl.<br />Use to line the base and side of a dish. (I used a lasagna dish but don't know how big it is...)<br />Chill for about 10 minutes<br /><br />2. Spread a thin layer of berry jam over the the biscuit base<br />Cut the stoneless cherries in half and spread over the jam.<br /><br />3. Mix the cottage cheese in a blender with the icing sugar until you have a smooth creamy mixture.<br />Transfer to mixing bowl and add low fat yogurt.<br />Mix well<br /><br />4. Put the lemon juice in a non reactive pan. sprinkle the gelatin over.<br />Dissolve over a very low heat<br /><br />5. Remove from heat and stir a little of the cheese mixture into the gelatin mixture.<br />Add this to the remaining cheese mixture and mix well.<br />Spoon into base.<br /><br />6. Put the frozen berries over the top to decorate.<br /><br /><br />7. Chill for 4 hours.Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-55896682820233106342011-04-16T07:29:00.002+09:302011-04-16T07:33:12.895+09:30Customer Stories from April 2011<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEtGvYiEQCA1j5ISCwyY9qVbpwOyhmMUA4CZ2TdX4ktYvu0pGDdGvWtxe2GxKdUzlD_S9ykOXPCOa4Q27lRpksc6EejulQkkfe8V9Yoz3R7kl1wvem979TrH9IzSQnbbouEFZfXgShO353/s1600/call+centre.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEtGvYiEQCA1j5ISCwyY9qVbpwOyhmMUA4CZ2TdX4ktYvu0pGDdGvWtxe2GxKdUzlD_S9ykOXPCOa4Q27lRpksc6EejulQkkfe8V9Yoz3R7kl1wvem979TrH9IzSQnbbouEFZfXgShO353/s400/call+centre.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595933777915260402" border="0" /></a><br /><p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >It always baffles me why customers will call on their mobiles, then complain they have no credit and ask if we can we call them back. </span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >It’s simple guys, if you don’t want to use your mobile phone credit, then don’t call on your mobile phone!</span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" > Here are a few customer stories from the last week or two…</span></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" > ~~~~~~~~~~</span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" > Customer rambling to me: <i style="">“I have the bill here, do I? Oh! No, I don’t… I thought I had it… oh, here it is. I thought I’d left it on the kitchen table. I was pretty sure. I think I brought it out yesterday because I knew I’d be calling you. Ok. I’ve got the account and it’s got an account no. Do you want the account no?”</i></span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" > I wanted to say “oh no please, it’s such a pleasure to hear you having a conversation with yourself. By all means, continue. I’m even taking notes!”</span></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" > ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" > As I write this, it’s the 8<sup>th</sup> of April. I just had a customer who called up angry because he’d received an overdue notice when he claimed the account had been paid.</span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >I checked his account… No, there hadn’t been a payment come through...</span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i style=""><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >“Well it has been paid”</span></i><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" > he insisted loudly <i style="">“and I’ve got the rcpt right here!</i></span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i style=""><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >“When was it paid?”</span></i><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" > I asked as it usually takes a day or two to hit the account.</span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i style=""><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >“I’ve got the rcpt and it says right here on the 17<sup>th</sup> of April that I paid $400”</span></i></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >I confirmed the date with him again and then said <i style="">“and do you realise that today is on the 8<sup>th</sup> and you’re telling me you paid this in eleven days time?”</i></span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >And believe it or not, he didn’t acknowledge his error but changed the subject to his next gripe…</span></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" > ~~~~~~~~~~</span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" > There’s a time and place for protracted stories.</span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >If you’re watching a movie, then it’s a good thing! If you’re reading a novel, it’s essential!<span style=""> </span>If you’re calling up your energy provider, it absolutely NOT required! </span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >I recently had a guy call to tell me how many burners he uses when he cooks his breakfast, then how many when he cooks his lunch. </span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >This was because he’d discovered a hissing sound coming from his burner, indicating that gas was escaping. He couldn’t smell any gas and promptly turned the burner off… but wanted to call to ask if it was going to be safe to use the burner the following day…. Oh, and he’d opened all the doors and windows as well which was a bit of a sacrifice for him because he has arthritis and the cold air made his condition flare up…</span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >Along the same lines, I had another customer who ummed and ahhhed for about 40 long seconds while he was thinking about whether he called a certain supplier last Monday or Friday. I had to bite my tongue because I really wanted to say “It doesn’t make a fricken bit of difference to this situation that you rang your supplier, let alone what DAY you did it on!!”</span></span></p> <p style="" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS','sans-serif';color:black;" >Remember, if you want good fast efficient service when calling a utility company, less is more. Let them ask the questions and only answer what you’ve been asked!</span></span></p>Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-74769153250011257892011-04-14T18:01:00.002+09:302011-04-14T18:03:56.554+09:30Do you know...? How many...? Where is...? What does...? Who was the person...?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJQqtozkYZYOXAtI8q4grDVxU2NqG0ujLi6IWn4vegcFnDz4kgy_8IwhpV-Npx31n6u0Kt06ZAIU0_FkpV9ScXI1Vr8F_XqfQjtO-zwsVi1UvNJaP8RNBfSsGqUI7dLrZo2HP_7JNjheu/s1600/google+self.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJQqtozkYZYOXAtI8q4grDVxU2NqG0ujLi6IWn4vegcFnDz4kgy_8IwhpV-Npx31n6u0Kt06ZAIU0_FkpV9ScXI1Vr8F_XqfQjtO-zwsVi1UvNJaP8RNBfSsGqUI7dLrZo2HP_7JNjheu/s400/google+self.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595354443006144466" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >Are you a googler?</span></span> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >My less technical friends have often scoffed when I</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >whip out my phone</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" > or ipod</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" > as soon as someone asks a question. </span></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >We may be sitting around, contemplating the population of Los Angeles</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >…</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" > or wondering if such and such a</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >celebrity is still alive</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >…</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" > or who was that actor that played in that movie?</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >I just don</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >t get why we all have to sit around and wonder, when the answer is at the tap of a few buttons?</span></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >Why argue when you can settle it right there and then!</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >No longer will the person with the loudest and most obstinate voice win that battle! The ipod can settle it.</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >Ther</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >e</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >s certainly no shame in wanting to know the correct, accurate answer!</span></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >And speaking of googling, how many have googled themselves?</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" > I.E. Egosurfing</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >…</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >I know I have! And there</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >s quite a few embarrassing links out there that maybe one day I</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >ll get around to taking down but</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >I</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" > know I</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >m not alone!</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" > Go ahead, google yourself. You may be surprised what</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >s out there.</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >I embrace technology and our changing society with caution. I</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >just</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >can</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >t be one of these people that automatically think change is bad.</span></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >Yeah I know kids aren</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >t playing in the streets anymore but take a look at their parents and you</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >ll find that they</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >re not very active either!</span></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >Tech</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >nology is not to blame. These kids didn</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >t buy the game systems</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >they use</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >and set themselves uncontrolled usage.</span></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >So</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >go ahead and</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >use technology. Let it better and enrich your life. Just remember</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >that you</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >re its master</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >…</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >don</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >t</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" > let it master you.</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" > </span></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >Now, what</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >’</span></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span lang="en-au" style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >s the population of Los Angeles???</span></span></p>Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-31709618002283493952011-04-13T12:21:00.003+09:302011-04-13T12:32:49.367+09:30Our own little hiding spots...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_FqaXNTfyus7eA5fN9avQ6dznDFl1ren4ZYXMp3tmhyphenhyphenvJ06fhgga2zNVd4SM5zvCv0_FkR3mX7NY_S8a2nFz7QuTx6C3ylaageNkMetyVxi9GE7h3hXWre94t5J-OttABOmH0bYOYHiS/s1600/bra+purse.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_FqaXNTfyus7eA5fN9avQ6dznDFl1ren4ZYXMp3tmhyphenhyphenvJ06fhgga2zNVd4SM5zvCv0_FkR3mX7NY_S8a2nFz7QuTx6C3ylaageNkMetyVxi9GE7h3hXWre94t5J-OttABOmH0bYOYHiS/s400/bra+purse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594896506847270482" border="0" /></a><br />I was a young girl in the seventies, and a teenager in the eighties. As a result, the bra burning movement was pretty much over by the time I was wearing them!<br /><br />Now I'll applaud a woman's choice to wear or not wear them but frankly, I can't understand why a woman wouldn't want to wear a bra! It's such a wonderful invention!<br />I keep a myriad of things in mine (apart from the obvious!)<br /><br /><br />Need to store an ipod but have no pockets? Tuck it in your bra!<br />Need to bring feminine hygiene products into the bathroom discreetly? Tuck it in your bra!<br />Need to store your car key while you go for your run? Tuck it into your bra!<br />Need to have spare change handy? A tissue handy? Just use your imagination and simplify your life.<br /><br />Recently I was searching Acapella groups on you tube and came across this female quartet. One of the singers sounded the pitch pipe to get them started, then promptly <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">stored that thing in her bra!!! </span>And that was in front of a live audience!!<br />You've gotta love that..<br /><br />Not to mention the older you get, the nicer they make your boobies look... There's no countering gravity if you go the natural way...<br /><br />So while I admit I'm happy to take it off as soon as I can when I'm done for the day, I love the versatility of wearing and storing things in a bra.Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061849284212368423.post-45156578149058363192011-04-07T18:04:00.001+09:302011-04-07T18:06:41.102+09:30How Do You Spell That???<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5nUCjD4uECB6YMm00T9mcGPTt-CQEnQB-jpCPIHsai1tpOSUD_nQr8QiQiSXdl5Fan5TwNX9UELdS_w1xQ5PoUAslA3ScTojlZSzgl2_q5Cr9UhYxMHufKYOO823t-OahvUdxAp7Ox2hS/s1600/babynames.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5nUCjD4uECB6YMm00T9mcGPTt-CQEnQB-jpCPIHsai1tpOSUD_nQr8QiQiSXdl5Fan5TwNX9UELdS_w1xQ5PoUAslA3ScTojlZSzgl2_q5Cr9UhYxMHufKYOO823t-OahvUdxAp7Ox2hS/s400/babynames.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592757516848690290" border="0" /></a><br />Once upon a time it was simple.<br />People married, had a baby who was given a commonly spelt first name, and took their fathers surname.<br />These days, anything goes!<br /><br />And I'm not saying that it's a bad thing, but having been one that's had to spell my name my whole life, I don't envy the kids growing up in this era.<br />Leaving surname's aside, is it, Steven or Stephen?<br />Allan or Alan?<br />Darrel or Darrell or Daryl?<br />Robin or Robyn?<br />Dianne or Diane?<br />Rachel or Rachael?<br />I'm sure you can think of plenty more.<br />They're the simple ones....<br />But what about the non traditional names?<br /><br />Emersyn, Jayde, Laekin, Braylei,Trey, Brayson, Landon, Kaiden, Grayson, Jaiden, Payton, Kyler, Braylen, Kayleb, Ryder, Paxton, Delaney, Jazelle, Jesamae, Jerrica, Jessa, Jasmine, Peyton, Quinna, Raeyna.<br />These are just a few names I saw, just by going through recent birth notices.<br /><br />My name is simple enough but I'm forever having to say <span style="font-style: italic;">"with a t"</span>. It's not pronounced.<br />I work in the service industry and it can be frustrating when a customer really wants to know what my name is. I can't tell you how many times I spell it out once, then twice then just end up leaving off the t... or just pretend that my name is Margaret, Margray, Marjay, Barbara or whatever it was the customer thinks they heard me say... It's just easier!<br /><br />So too will the kids of this era be spelling their first names for the rest of their lives.<br /><br /><br />But wait, it's not a given that mum and dad are married so what name will the kid take? Will it be just mum's? Just dad's? A hyphenated combination?<br /><br />And what if one hyphenated combination grows up and meets another hyphenated combination and they have a child out of wedlock?<br />Will the baby that's produced of this union have a hyphenated hyphenation?<br /><br />My brain's hurting..<br /><br />So parents, please take all this into consideration when naming your baby.<br /><br />Let their talents and gifts be their originality, not the spelling of their names...Margot's Musings & Misadventureshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10738749850686011655noreply@blogger.com0