The week before I decided that I was on death’s door something very exciting happened. My naturalisation application to become a British citizen was approved. When they said I’d get my picture taken with the Queen I thought she’d be there in person.
This is a lazy post today. I thought I would just put up some pictures I’ve taken recently. Because I’m totally self-obsessed I’ve been taking a lot of self portraits.
One of my favorite pairs of jeans tore recently. I hate buying jeans and want to hang on to pairs that fit properly as long as possible. Last week, I decided that I could just patch up my torn pairs of jeans. Because of the location of the hole I had to sew the patch on by hand and it took a long time. I did a pretty darn good job though. I only stuck myself with the needle 10 thousand times. That’s better than the 10 million times I stuck myself with the needle the last time I tried to sew something by hand.
When I wore them the next day my husband laughed and laughed and said that I shouldn’t wear them outside. Later that evening some people were coming to our house to have a very serious discussion, and he told me that I should change before they arrived.
Change before they arrive, I thought. What’s wrong with him? Then he showed me this picture.
I swear it wasn’t that noticeable in the mirror, but it didn’t have a big red arrow pointing at it either. He won. I changed and now I have the misfortunate nickname, Vagina Patch.
Note: Apparently, misfortunate isn’t a word, who knew? Well my husband did and made it a point to correct old Vagina Patch as soon as he got home from his gig. I meant to say unfortunate, but I’m leaving misfortunate in the post because I’m hoping to start a trend.
My husband ate the worst salad in the world in the Madrid airport. It most have been pretty bad, because it seems to have left more of an impression on him than the salad with a German cockroach in it that he ate in the Canary Islands. He brought the napkin from the Madrid airport restaurant home with him because he thought the name of it was so funny. The napkin sits on our dining table and every time we eat he picks it up and asks me if I’ve written a post about it yet.
My husband tends to have lots of ideas about posts for this blog. Usually if I stall long enough he forgets about them, but this napkin thing just won’t go away. So here’s the napkin.
He says that if he had noticed the name of the resturant before he bought the salad he would’ve gone somewhere else.
The reason I was reluctant to post this is because before I moved to the UK that would’ve meant anything to me. My husband says that I’m in the minority and that most people know what that means. So if anyone else out there is completely unaware of how the English pronounce certain words here’s an explanation. Ars which I think should have an e on the end so it is spelled arse is how the English pronounce the word ass. (I’m pretty sure that’s a run on sentence, but I so don’t care.)
The following event occurred in December of 2010, but I kept forgetting to post it.
On a shopping trip to one of my mother’s favorite stores, The Homing Shopping Network Outlet Store, my sister found these crazy shoes.
They are obviously the results of a love affair between a sandal and a boot. I’m going to refer to them as bandals. I can’t figure out when you might wear a shoe of this nature. It seems to me that if you wore your bandals when it was warm outside your ankles would sweat. On the other hand if you wore your bandals when it was cold your toes would freeze. So I guess bandals are designed with moderate temperatures in mind, but I’m reluctant to expose my toes even in moderate temperatures. Bandals must not be for people who tend to have cold feet.
My sister has a knack for finding the funniest clothes in the store. On this shopping trip she also found a strange cardigan configuration that resembled bat’s wings. It looked something like this.
Okay, maybe my drawing doesn’t quite do it justice. The cardigan looked more like this.
She also took me to the mall at one point to show me a particularly unfortunate outfit a mannequin at Forever 21 was sporting. It looked something this.
Actually, it looked worse than that, but with artistic talents as advanced as mine it’s hard to draw something that looks as terrible as that outfit.
I had to buy a new pair of jeans recently and I found that it is much easier to find clothes to laugh at then it is to find clothes that I would actually wear.
My father-in-law left his sunglasses at our house. I think they look good on me.
Too bad I can’t see anything when I’m wearing them. That’s the problem with wearing glasses. Maybe I should just try wearing the sunglasses over my normal glasses. That wouldn’t look to strange, would it?
The other day someone knocked on our door to find out if we wanted to sell our car, Frank, for scrap metal. Frank doesn’t look that good, but we didn’t realize that he looked that bad. He’s loud and rough, but he’s reliable and that’s all we need. 
I was so happy to find out that the date of the Rapture has been pushed back. To be perfectly honest, I just wasn’t ready yet. This may seem trivial considering that most people would love to be swept up to heaven in blink of an eye, but I haven’t finished my Flickr Project 365 yet. I don’t think it would be responsible of me to leave my husband to deal with our weed infested driveway alone either. Maybe I sound presumptuous to you, but come on, take a look at the two of us and you’ll notice that certain people who live in this flat just may be sprouting horns. I don’t think they allow horns in Heaven.
Additional Information:
In case you’re interested, I’m starting to post my short stories on this site.
The weather has been lovely here, but I hear there will be rain over the weekend. We have to enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.
