(Jessica)- "How about 'The We'? Yeah. We are 'The We' "

Rory: She needs a resume and samples of your previous work and, uh, referrals. 

Lorelai: And my bare butt to kiss? 

Rory: If you think that will set you apart from the other applicants, yes. 

------------------------------------

Oh yes, it has been a few weeks of me thinking, "And my bare butt to kiss". Don't get me wrong...I have had a wonderful few weeks but it has been the odd awkward moments, upon which this blog thrives, which have multiplied and replenished very much recently. This blog has done wonders for my positive attitude- whenever something truly embarrassment and horriffico happens I simply think to myself (*in a Louis Armstrong voice*), "What a wonderful blog!".


Do you ever have those moments when you're in a girl's bathroom and you happen to hear a conversation like this, "You have no idea, my skin has been the worst skin since 2012!"...As you know I am now working in a University so I often come across conversations like these on my trips away from a computer screen. I did feel so sorry for the student who has had the worst skin as of 2012....I really did. Until I walked a midst the toxic cloud of hair-spray, Charlie Red and shine powder, only to discover that she was blessed with some of the finest skin I have seen. (Odd thing isn't it...to compliment someone's skin? Perhaps I should say complexion as sounds less...awkward.) I felt like saying, "Well some of us have been bless with crackin' (literally) skin since 2000...so do be quiet!". 
Soon after this moment the tribe of girls left...and I broke the tap at one of the sinks...pulled it clean out of the wall actually...I managed to balance the fixings around the sink and made it just about look like a normal tap, or modern art...depends on your perspective I suppose. My eyes and eyebrows twinned as one and rose to the heavens, I shrugged and thought something to do with Lorelai's aforesaid phrase. 
**And my bare butt to kiss**
I would just like to inform you that I am at work, lunch break- don't freak out. Do you know what the height of chatter is? The basic office conversation? I'll tell you... "So, what have you got for lunch?". Or really any lunch conversation really. It seems to be the office staple diet for polite conversation.I shall refer you to one particularly awkward conversation that we had in the office, not two days ago. I was minding my own business and just working quietly and I heard the tail-end of Simon's (guy who sits opposite me) conversation to Helen (lady next to me)...
Simon-"...If Jess saw me doing that she'd slap me..." 
*Looking to Helen slightly confused*-You have to understand, I am not vocal at all in the work place, so someone throwing slapping accusations around took me by surprise. Anywhere else than the office would be situation normal I suppose...

Simon goes on-"Helen doesn't slap me anymore but that's only because she knows I enjoy it."

*Silence and nausea dawn over the people with hearing*

Helen: "So, what have you got for lunch today Jess?"

You see? It's the perfect 'out' of a weird silence. Even if you have a dinner appointment you are hailed as quite the celebrity...I'm not sure that I have ever caught the strange lunch obsession that everyone has...but I certainly appreciate it.

It made me laugh when I read the last paragraph of your blog about being stabbed in a bus lane. Strangely my odds of being stabbed in a bus lane have drastically increased. I have more chance of being stabbed in a bus lane or on a bus than anywhere else on the planet.
I have recently had some trauma in that department. Which makes me miss Robs quite a bit because he would always tease me about my/our bus adventures...and then offer his limbs in our defense. Anyway, I digress... I was offered some socks...men's Gant socks... as a Christmas present by a person I see on the odd occasion on the number 13. Apparently the acceptance of these socks means, "June Wedding" or the equivalent in modern man speak, and the next time I randomly bumped into him, he decided to take an army and march on Poland. (Poland being my face and an army here being his mouth like feature...less like a mouth in this instance and more like...a chasm of death, a death chasm...in which my face was going to be lost forever). This is exactly what I thought as his face made his way passed my 84cm invisible border...
I did exclaim a noise that was something like- but not necessarily..."Ugghhhhh--Ewwwwww". Upon which he promptly stormed off and I had several abusive texts all inclusive with a wide variety of French.

I did see him on the bus a few days later...he saw me and got off in Norwich 20 minutes before his stop....in Spixworth... Was it something I said?
In the wise words of our Great Aunt Laura, "Jessica, you really need to learn how to drive mate."

As you can see...there is a theme to my narration here...all of these circumstances have that special phrase in common.

Anyway, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas! Are you excited? I sure am. I watched Muppets...and I will watch, "While you were sleeping" later on in the week. It won't be the same without you but the slippery ice scene never fails to greet me with hysteria. Maybe we can watch it when you're here? You HAVE to watch it with mutual Leonard (Ieuan...for those other than Rachel...mutual Leonard is Ieuan). I think he will appreciate the humor. 

Lucy: Oh! I don't want any flowers from you, I am not wearing black underwear, and I definitely do not want to move in with you, Joe - 

[it's Jack, not Joe Jr] 

Lucy: Jack. 

Jack: Well, I don't have any flowers, I wouldn't mind seeing the black underwear, but under the circumstances, I don't think we should move in together. 

Lucy: I thought you were Joe Jr. 

Jack: [sarcastically] I get that a lot. 

So excited for that magic!

Anyway, I'm two minutes into work time now and have to dash. 

I love you Snafroe! (See what I did? It's the ultimate combo!)

Reply or better....

Lots of love,

Fruity. 

xxx

"Have you ever had mad cow disease?" "Twice last week, and my colouring was great!" (Rachel)

So I've never had mad cow disease but our titles don't always HAVE to be related, do they??
Did you know that Lauren Graham (Lorelai) actually dated Matt Blucas? She is now with Peter Krause...I think you can tell her kind of guy and it is similar to Lorelai's, I think. Anyway....

I am currently sitting in the university of Bath library under the false name and ID card of Ieuan Guy. Shhhh...don't tell anyone. Thankfully, it's a swipe machine rather than armed personnel who check the validity of the ID, or I would be well and truly had by now. As I type, I am sneaking giant white chocolate buttons from my secret stash of chocolatey goodness. Ieuan can't believe what's happened to me! I've gone from "I'll take a satsuma, thanks" to "I could probably eat that whole bar of galaxy cookie crumble to myself". Ah, what those monthly hormones do to a gal.

I want you to know that I am so excited to see you tomorrow. I remember when Ieuan would come to visit me in Lancaster and I would want the whole of the friday to prepare for his arrival that evening..I would take so much pride in doing the shopping and the cleaning, organising everything, scrubbing everything so that when he came, I was the organised domestic goddess I wanted to be. Does it surprise you to know that I feel the same level of excitement to see you? I am just as excited to make my domestic-y preparations! I can't wait for our soup and toast supper.

There's something very comforting about the word supper, don't you think? It denotes firesides, stories, warm slippers, cosy PJs and light, warm nibbles, like soup. It's very much a winter thing. I just cannot wait to pick you up from the station and drive you to my little house! There, we will sit, with Husbandy on our lovely cosy couch, and, bathed in the gentle lamp-lit hues of our living room, nestled in a blanket, we will sip our soup and dip our toast and revel in the joys of good company!

I have made a wonderful friend at the museum....Penny Scott Barret.  She and I had a joint induction when I first went to the museum and we have been firm friends ever since. She is about the same age as Emily Gilmore and is like her in all the best ways; glamorous, enjoys high society, has a beautiful big house, wears lovely clothes, speaks very nicely, drives nice cars...but is as down to earth, generous and enthusiastic as anyone you could hope to meet! She is so funny. She and I giggle like school girls and she managed to convince me to swap my shift at the museum from fridays to thursdays so I can be with her. She is so great. It's so funny because it reminds me of the friendship I have with Pat, Gil and Margaret at Morrisons. I would do anything for those ladies and they would do the same for me. It just goes to show that friendship knows no boundaries! I am so thankful for somerfields and for budgens that have helped me make the most wonderful friendships with people I would not have met in any other way!! =)

So, I heard something the other day that was pretty darn funny. Some comedian was saying that when someone is stabbed to death, a lengthy investigation ensues, and police officers spend months trying to find the killer. When you drive in a bus lane, your photograph is taken, and the have in mailed to your house within 48 hours. Moral of the story? Make sure you are stabbed in a bus lane! Funny guy. It's true though...if violent crime could be dealt with the same severity as parking on double yellows or speeding, the most dangerous people on earth would be caught instantly. Unfortunately, I don't think it's possible to operate that way but...it made for a funny joke. As far as comedians go, I still love Nina Conti and the scottish granny....."Schooom!" Hilarious.

Well, sorry this isn't very interesting but you are coming to visit tomorrow. I will just finish with an artistic creation of mine. Hope you like!
All my love,
Shams.
X

"The bottom line is that too many birds are landing atop the streetlights and relieving themselves on helpless passersby. And I daresay that some of these birds seem to be doing it on purpose."- (Jessica)

-Sometimes you're the bird...sometimes you're the statue (or helpless passerby)...and sometimes you're the innocent bus girl in a sea full of empty seats and the old guy with the revolving left eye, despite where his right eye is looking, chooses to sit next to you....despite the derelict bus, complete with rolling tumbleweed...*Silence*...
Speaking of strange men on public transport... I was on the way back from the London office and I was sitting opposite a man with very long legs. You'd think that once you realised that you were encroaching on someone's personal space you'd move, no such luck. Unfortunately his legs were so long the his knees were either side of mine...The other unfortunate thing was that my right leg got cramp and I had to jerk it out to relieve it...go figure...

Oh hello Shams! Fancy meeting you here. Well, it's not really now is it? Not two minutes ago I sent you a text and a wall post on the Book of Face (see what I did there?) telling you that I posted a "post". In eager anticipation you rushed to the computer to read the words of bitter/pearl-esque wisdom from my keen mind and obedient fingertips...and here we are, Funny ol' world isn't it?

I am shocked and ashamed that our mutual Leonard (AKA-Ieuan for anyone who isn't fluent in "Rachica") doesn't like Stovies Pie?.. Nothing short of despicable really. Leonard, I am ashamed. You are a very luck filled man to have had such a wonderful morsel of delicious food. Hang your head boy. Hang. Your. Head.

Here is a tale of The Laptops Three...A collection of short stories about the female Boss...
Are you sitting comfortably? Good, then I shall begin...
Once upon a time there was a lowly worker called Temp, who was happy*ish* in her job. ("That's not happy" I hear you say...well, it's happy with an ish, and she was content). She would do her best to run around and to please. Her boss was small and friendly. She had a pleasant manner about her and a forgetful type head.
One day Boss told Temp to bring the laptops (plural noted please) over to a different building...on the way over she was talking to a lady called Fellow Employee. Now Fellow was chatting to Boss about electrical beauty products and Boss was both entertained and distracted. Temp had three heavy laptops slung about her stooping frame and staggered across campus. When they arrived at their destination..Boss looked at Temp surprised, "We only need the one". The words hung in the air like mist over Glencoe...Temp collapsed to the floor in slow motion. The end.

In all seriousness though, I do like my job and it does have the odd occasion of making me laugh. I was working in the law buildings for a few weeks doing some Visa work and on my last day I was asked to clear the office completely...printer and all. I had to box everything up and wheel it back to the office (which is completely across campus). In this struggle I was pushing this heavy box full of printer, with other boxes on top balancing on a trolley like contraption and throwing all of my weight behind it. In fact I was very much horizontal to the pavement with the effort. People stopped to look, and chuckle and then moved on. Right as I entered the effort and was overcome with the sheer power on my own womanly awesomeness, "The perfect bathroom trip" song came on my MP3 player...
I could not help myself. I burst out laughing and blew like a whale...the boxes tumbled. The picture of me walking into a very quiet office, heaving these boxes all the way across campus for a woman who is half my size, with that song playing just over took my senses and I lost control of my composure for a good five minutes. Ahhh.....my madness made me thing of you.

You know what? I actually have Dave and Andy's number if you'd like it. They are angels of the auto world. I love them both dearly and will always have a special place for them in my heart...Especially Andy...and Dave...I just love his face! Those are two characteristics I want in my future husband...Andy...and Dave.
The "Dandy" gene...(see what I did there? How clever is your fruity?)

Caitlin asks me to wake her up whenever I come up to bed, so she knows I'm in the room. She has taken to putting her her index finger up to me (in a "don't worry" type fashion) until she's lucid enough to say goodnight...cracks me up every time.

Well friend on the subject of goodnight...I shall read my letter from Dearest one more time over ice cream and hit the sack.

I love you muchly, sorry the post is so short Fruity.

Love,
Your Fruity Snaffs
x

"I know how to protect you from Agent Orange and Shrapnel. Just ask me how!" (Rachel)

Well! It has been a long time since I last wrote, but your post simply could not keep me away! =)

It just so happens that this very night, I was taken in potato mashing and, to keep myself going during the mashing process (which, depending on how raw/ cooked your potatoes are, can be quite lengthy) I recited to myself those carefully prepared and ingeniously delivered lines of yours. The transformative effect was quite something to behold. All of a sudden, I was a curvy brunette with a deep and abiding passion for food….in my head, I consoled myself lovingly…. ‘It’s only a whopping knob of butter….Nigella cooks like this all the time’. I fantasised that I was a famous chef….mashing potatoes in my Rachel Allen bowl did not help either. Then I missed you, my fellow virtual chef!  Then I noticed that my potatoes were looking like the wrong side of Velcro and, my bottom lip curled in despondence until a familiar phrase replaced the twinkle in my eyes…as if by magic, yours and Nigella’s voices came into my mind and, with hands extended reassuringly, they said “Don’t worry! Milk is your friend”. And boy was it! It saved the day with its creamy lashings caressing my mashed potato, soothing it into a smooth, creamy delight…..

Anyway, on with other matters. So, I am a working girl now (no, not like the ones with the Tiffany Lampshades). I am a PA, so they tell me! I power dressed the first day….cream Oxbow trousers, short green jacket…you know, you know. Only to feel very underdressed so, back to jeans it is. As I walk to work though, I do feel that underneath my coat is a smashing black pinstriped pencil skirt suit, court shoes and a fitted white shirt. Then, I go and get my Decaff latte with non-fat nothing, because I don’t drink coffee…but the thought of collecting my bespoke hot drink is always there. I then try not to look down at my shabby fake Toms and my bottle of crusha. It ruins the image somewhat! Besides all of my daydreaming, I love my job. I am learning so much! So much, in fact that I believe I could convincingly tell you how to protect your carpet from Agent Orange and Shrapnel. =) Each day at work is filled with tiny victories that make me feel satisfied and successful. A small mercy. =)

Would you like to hear something amusing?? Well, the other day, I went into sainsbury’s to buy a few lemons… I have taken to regularly keeping some fresh lemon juice in the fridge to add zing to water or to soothe any ailed senses in a hot drink form. So, on this particular day, to nurse my brewing cold, I bought these lemons and took them to the self-service machines. I also saw the recipe magazine they offer free of charge, so I grabbed one of those too and put it in my basket. NO sooner had I scanned each lemon, than I started to reach for my magazine when some eager whippersnapper, polecat, muckety-muck decided he would top his BCPH (Baskets Collected Per Hour) by whisking my basket away. I literally had my arm extended ready to grab thin air as he and my basket disappeared. My mouth was open….in awe…in surprise…in disgust….in offence….poised ready to say “Erm…..excuse me….I actually wanted that magazine”. When the words finally came out, he was oblivious. “Excuse…..erm….the basket….The magazine….sorry…..it’s mine…I wanted….never mind.” Like a forlorn goat, I rebuked my arm for remaining outstretched in mid-air for the entirety of my one-sided conversation. Then, I shuffled away, lemons in hand. I soon found where Basket biy had put my magazine. He’d put it on top of the Customer Service counter. Quite right too!! I’ll give him customer service!! My recipe book lay there….unwanted, unloved. Stolen away from a chance at happiness; an opportunity to flee the stack, if you will…to mingle with other recipes…. An opportunity to fill my shelves with light, colour and delicious potential. There it sat. I looked Basket boy straight in his baskety eyes and picked up the magazine from its lonely place on the side. With a sassy salute with the booklet, I left. PAH! Take that PUNK! I reign victorious.

Tonight’s dinner was somewhat interesting. I made corned beef hash. I always worry when meals have names like that, don’t you? Effective advertising works in the home too…

“Honey, what’s for dinner tonight?”

“Corned beef hash!” (I say, enthusiastically, being fully aware that what I have just said is a euphemism for ‘a hash of corned beef’)

“Ahh….is this one of your own recipes?”

(Come on! Give me some credit. If it was my own and I was really trying to conceal the fact that it was a hash of corned beef, would I really have called it Corned Beef Hash?? That begs the question, what would I have called it? ‘Corned Beef Surprise’ might work…adding surprise at the end of a meal always adds a touch of mystery and intrigue. Or perhaps ‘Corned Beef confusion’ would work better. Still not out and out admitting it’s a mess that looks as though it’s been through an animal a good few times, but acknowledging the fact that it’s not exactly a pristine  cake. Then there’s the blatant falsehood option. It’s called “Roast Beef and Potato delight”. The Satan principle…99% truth 1% lie. Definitely Beef and definitely potato….definitely not roasted. =) See where I’m going with this??)

“No, my Mum used to make it all the time- I really liked it growing up” (I mean, have you ever heard of a baby corned beef hash?)

“Cool.”

“SO….out of 10, darling…how much did you hate it?” I can read vibes like Prince John collected taxes. Pretty darn well. He did like it really but, when you think about the way it looks, and how it fills up your mouth with nothing to chew exactly, it is a bit of a non-event sometimes. It is tasty, it is easy, it is cheap…but it isn’t the way to a man’s heart. Remember that, okay? It will serve you well.

The wheel bearing has gone on our car again. AGAIN! I told Ieuan that I might call Dave or Andy for advice. We may not live close to home. We may not have a perfect car. We may not have a private jet…but. We. Will. ALWAYS. Have. DAVE! (This was the tag line I used on his promo poster. I think his business will be booming.) His workshop should be called “We will always have Dave!” or… “You will always have me!” or “Puppy eyes.com” I am confident either will work. Aw, Dave. We love Dave. Nawww (waggling finger affectionately at Dave).

Well, it’s time to retire. I love you. By the way, in my calendar for today, it’s talk like DB day. Good luck with that!

Have a great evening….and don’t forget! We will always have Dave. We will always have Philadelphia!

Snafs xxx

(Jessica)- "Those boys are not interested in your friendship, unless the word "friendship" is tattooed on your butt."

Humphers,
I miss you terribly...who invented Bath to be so far away?! Rubbish people.

I was mashing potatoes today, and I thought to myself, " I wonder how I would describe the art of mashing if I were on a cooking show.." (Obviously my thoughts springed to you as no one else plays cooking shows in the kitchen with me...) So I came up with some thoughts, catch-phrases if you will, that you can repeat to yourself in your kitchen when mashing the potatoes.
"Making mashed potatoes is purely instinctual. Many chefs cook via taste, but when it comes to potatoes, it's all about the texture...." (I may be able to sell that one to Nigella, I was rather chuffed with it).
"If your potatoes are starting to look like the wrong side of Velcro...(extends hand reassuringly)...don't worry... milk is your friend.." (Again, this one prompted a small smile of pride)
Then my cooking experience went a little down hill as I shook the "masher" (does it have a real name?) into the bowl and potato flicked all over me, all down the cupboards and up onto the walls...
I exclaimed, "Oh no, I shook the potato..."  Which to my dismay... made me laugh harder that I expected...(note: I was alone in the kitchen at this point laughing to myself...yes, out-loud)..and in short my television career as potato masher is nought. They'll never let me on the air again. But maybe I can make it as a youtube sensation....I digress...

You know the song by Frank Sinatra, called "The Girl From Ipanema"? It goes like this...
"Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking
And when she passes, each one she passes goes - ah"
It was only today that I found out those were the lyrics! I thought they were actually,
"Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes squawking
And when she passes, each one she passes goes - *sigh*" (as in a sigh of exasperation for the girl who goes around squawking....)
Who knew?! Although Frank's version makes more sense I have to say I prefer mine...I can more relate to the girl who goes around squawking than the girl who makes people wistful by walking.

Something terrible happened...I was honked.... *high pitched whisper*..by bald men...*higher still*...in a transit. Now, don't get me wrong, I like an ego boost as much as the next man...but...as I turned to look I saw 3 men (old enough to be older than my Father) leering in white vest tops at me. I'd like to make an announcement to these men (referring back to the title of this blog) I have no tatoos.
And I was wondering something as this happened...does the honk technique actually work? I wonder if there have been weddings and in the speeches the groom says (excuse me while I take some artistic liberties with my characters...),
"I met Sandy one hot summer day in two fousand and free. I was leaning outta my transit eating a bacon sarnie and ketchup sauce was drippin' all down my face...searching for a napkin in the glove, I looked up and saw her there...crossing my freshly laid tarmac and fought to myself, 'Georgie boi, you gotta woo this woman 'ere'..so I did what any man would've done and I laid on my horn...*BEEEEEEEP*"
-Sandy chimes in...."I've never been the same since, have I?...What woman doesn't love that? Am I right girls, d'ya get me?!"
(I've come to love George and Sandy in my head...watch this space...my lovable Norfolk folk may feature in more stories...bless. Happy anniversary George and Sandy.)
But seriously now...has it ever happened? I'm honestly curious, so do let me know.

Oh friend...I have a confession...When I was in America a party was thrown...and I attended ("Quick Bob get the kids into a minivan because the world's coming to an end!"-Yes. Thank you.). That is not the point I'm making Rachel, pipe down. I ate devilled-eggs. I KNOW! Devilled-eggs are good for throwing at cars and threatening people with...but have you stopped to try a delicious morsel? I tell you what...choirs sung, eyes were teary and horizons were broadened. Not bad, not bad at all. We shall bake them and eat them when I come down (somewhere after we draw on our feet and play Harry Potter-Can Ieuan be Dumbledore and if so can we stick cotton-wool to his toes?...No?...Just thinking out-loud).

As for your cake conundrum..."Lorelai: I'm gonna have pancakes with a side of pancakes". Let the people grow darn it!! I am glad that you have made an oath to one another about this...I hope that I too can one day have a husband who is sensitive to my cake needs as well as his own...people without cakes is like...*shudder*...It's a dark, dark place Rachel...there's no coming back from it.

Anyway friend (I went into Caitlin to kiss her goodnight tonight and she pulled her covers down just below her eyes, but enough that I could see her cheeks billowing into a smile, and said in the most delighted voice, "Oh hi friend!". We have one little sister there who is a lot like us...) I have to love you and leave you, as I sweep off the internet for bed...big plans tomorrow...I have to get money out of an ATM for my bus fare. Enviable isn't it?

Love you lots Shams...Love Snaffs (saying snaffs makes me want to wrinkle my nose in an adorable fashion...I haven't done adorable for a long time though...at least it's something I can work at on my way to the ATM)
xxx

(Rachel)-With a crunch and a zing and a hm hm hm HELLO!

"Okay, so our house is burning down and you can save me or the cake. Which do you choose?"

This, dearest Safs, is what I want to address with you today. Which do you save? I learnt an important life lesson yesterday whilst buying cake with Ieu. A lesson I especially needed.

One of the things that I love the most about my Husband is the way he talks. I love how he exaggerates and expresses himself. I find him hilarious and interesting and it's great! However. I do sometimes misinterpret what he means when he says certain things. You see, ever since our wedding, he has been hankering (nb. NOT hunkering) after cake because he didn't feel that the delicious bite he had at the cake table was sufficient. Of course, for me, The delicious bite I had at the table was enough- I loved the cake and would happily have had more but I didn't REALLY want it badly. He did- or seemed to. At various intervals, on and off for the last 2 weeks, he has expressed a desire for cake in the following words; "Mmmmm....cake", "MMmmmmm....I want cake" or just " CAKE!". Now, you, like me, may have assumed that he REALLY wanted cake. SO, when we wrote the weekly shopping list, I suggested we put cake on the list. Next scene: Morrisons in the cake and sweet treats aisle. Ieuan and I were eying up the cakes. I was in  a rare "GIVE ME SUGAR" mood and rather fancied a nice bit of sponge. We were looking at a coconut cream sponge and a victoria sponge. I could see that the decision was going to be difficult so, because he was the one who had wanted cake for such a long time, I left him to choose the cake he wanted while I went to get bread. After I had collected a few more items, Ieuan returned with two trays of millionaire shortcake and a pack of mini rolls. NO cake. I asked where the cake was. He said he wasn't getting any. Now Millionaire shortcake is my all time fave. I also expressed a desire for the minirolls so, assuming he'd done a Ieuan and chosen the things that I would have liked best, I did a me and asked him to take one of the trays back and get some cake for himself. Quietly he did so and came back with the coconut cream sponge. "Now, are you SURE that you absolutely want that cake? There isn't another you would prefer?" He looked at me exasperated and said "Can you please trust that I am happy with my choice?". With that, we did the rest of the shop.

Later that day I raised the issue of cake with him. As it happens, he didn't need cake, he just fancied some and the mini rolls would have done. My constant cake pushing for cake made him think I wanted cake, so he chose the cakey things I would like. In my head, I was thinking that I would never care enough about cake to dominate the decision making process- I would be happier if he chose one he wanted. In his head, he was thinking that I had been telling him to buy cake for ages so I must really want it and he wants to share this cake with me and so he will get one that we both like. See? Men, women and cake.

A tricky combo.

After our chat and after the light dawned on me, we made an oath. My oath went something like this "I hereby pledge that I will never again assume that Ieuan is desperate for cake and I will trust that he is happy with his decisions. I also pledge to be more decisive." His was, "I hereby pledge that I will never again make a decision based on what I think Rachel wants without checking whether she would be happier if I made the decision based on my preferences or not". In the end, pledges aside, we agreed to always put the other first and, next time the subject of cake comes up, to communicate more clearly. Now we have a box of 15 mini rolls, 1 tray of millionaire's shortbread and a coconut cream sponge to get through. So glad the exercise regime kicks off tomorrow!!

Learn to understand each other before you buy cake. It will save time, and possibly money. =)

AAO

(Jessica)- "If you die young, waiting for my blog posts..."

...I'll lay you down in a bed roses, I'll sink you in the river, at dawn and sail you away to the words of fantastic thoughts from my head. You like that mountain ninja? You like the taste of my bronze sword?!

Okay, I'm sorry. I am sorry that it has been so long since I have last blogged. There is no excuse, other than the fact that whenever I had the time... you were home. Did I hear someone say pointless? Yes, me. 

CHILAQUILES!! I have never been more happy to reply to your posts when they have such inspired titles! A bulwark is a wall? Who knew?...Oh my gosh there is far too much to reply to in your posts! Why did you do 3? I mean, I didn't reply. Get a microscope and look at the hints Sherlock! In good Lara Croft style, time was stolen from me and no matter how many times I locked the groaning butler in the freezer, I had no way of getting it back. But guess what? Now that you are married I find myself with a huge void...so guess who is going to blog post drop-kick you?...Yeah, still not me. I have coursework.

So, about your wedding, it was a fantastic day wasn't it? It was chilly...but no doubt from the warmcuddlyglow-stares you and Ieuan were swapping you didn't feel the cold did you?

Anyway, whilst you were getting lost in his eyes you missed out on some serious news. I have now usurped you in the Cain household (children-wise). I am now their favourite and they love me. They were telling me this as we were getting ice cream. I'm going to spend a weekend over there for a play date. That's right my friend. I have a play date. Don't cry.

Haha you also missed my Ever After moment, "Prince Henry: Am I to understand that you find me arrogant?"...(What Danielle would have said if she were me: "Yes, and it's very annoying *and stupidly attractive*") Remind me to tell you about that some other time. Seth and Kirsty know what I mean.

I'm trying to think of things that have happened to me since you've left...and even now my mind is blank. My life is interesting I swear, but nothing blog worthy of yet.

Someone said to me today, "Text-bomb her. Tell her you miss her". Hahaha can you imagine?! Me texting you to say that? Absurd. So I whispered back (in my head), "I'm not sure that you know this...but we share a brain. She knows."

I have heard that you are poorly! As am I!! Oh the sadness! I walked home from work almost 2 weeks ago and as it turns out I have formed into a cross between a horse and a husky...  Horsky... anyway... Doctors tomorrow. Hopefully Doctorette Antilla can save me.

It may have come to your attention that we had the BYU singers staying at our house Thursday night. Which meant I had to give up my room, and my beds to some girls. They were a really nice bunch actually and joined us for midnight ice cream when they got back. But nevertheless, I had the living room floor, which I don’t mind so much, what I did mind was my awakening.

Picture this: You are waking up all blurry-eyed and dropping in and out of sleep, you can faintly hear Sam and Caitlin around me and Mum and Dad. Nice, no?

But as I finally came around my ears fuzzily heard Dad saying something about a visitor…

And then hearing, “I have sisters, don’t worry. I have seen it all!”

My sleepy mind thought, “Whoa now. I don't know who you are just yet, But I'm pretty sure that I am not your sister…so it’s irrelevant whether or not you’ve seen it all because you have sisters...that is no excuse to see me in whatever state I am in...because I'm not your sister!!!”

One eye reluctantly pealed back to see Tim Kay sitting on the two-seated sofa. My sleeping mind whirled as I tried to bury myself into our carpeted floor…As I usually sleep in a large shirt…and the zip to the sleeping bag I was in often broke… I tried to casually sense if my legs were bare or not…because if they were…and Tim didn’t move, I could very well end up being in that sleeping bag for a very long time. Mercifully I had the insight the night before to wear my Bermuda legged tracksuit trousers. I still wasn’t totally comfortable with “bear hunt-ing” (stumble trip stumble trip) my way out of my confused array of sleeping bag, blankets and pillows with him 2 feet away from me. I made some confused sleepy mumbles to make it seem like I was asleep, and incoherent, but my mind was alive with how this would make a fantastic Miranda episode. I felt like poking my head though the blankets and pillows to throw a sarcastic and slightly terrified look to the invisible camera, followed by a little shake of my head and a “this cannot be happening to me” whimper. But at the time there was no such saving grace to make this situation even slightly funny. A few seemingly witty remarks were made by the recently multiplied men in the household about teenage laziness as they walked out of the room for breakfast…little did they know I had mapped out a battle plan in just a few, world record long, minutes to ensure my safe passage out of there…either by making him leave, or getting myself out. All of these, minus number 3 and 6, require total body and face coverage whilst remaining immobile…

1.      Cry. It is a truth universally acknowledged that weeping women scare most single men.

2.      Pull a Rob. German chanting, Russian threats.

3.      Project Pony-launch. I was tantalisingly close to Caitin’s pink play horse…No, you’re right. Bad idea.

4.      But I’m a Gilmore. No one can argue with myself like I can. Voices and everything.

5.      Ghost voice. “Timothy…TIMothy…TIMOTHY!!”

6.      Staring competition-...almost this the portrait from Scooby Doo that stands in the haunted Mansion. That would promote some awkward shuffling out of the room.

7.      Recite “Bee I’m expecting you”

8.      6^th sense. “I see dead people”

…See? This took me minutes. Teenage Laziness indeed, teenage planning by stratagem. I think so! 

I appreciate this isn’t a long one, I’m sorry. But nothing huge has happened to me. I’ll play chicken on the A140 or something this week so I have something to report.

I’ll love you and leave you.

Reply or better…

Yours,

Jess
P.S. Got a hand full of barbie

(Rachel)- Chilaquiles! (Chilaquiles) CHILAQUILES!!

Today is national Chilaquiles day (aka- talk like Cesar day) so.....join in....CHILAQUILES!! I hope you enjoyed 'talk like Peter Jones day'...don't know about you but mine was pretty uneventful. (Sometimes, when I think about what other people must think of us when they read about the things we do and say to each other, I think they must worry for our mental stability...conversely, they may just be jealous that they don't have as many 'in-jokes' as we do. We're pretty unique in that regard!! To all readers who aren't Jess! We are sane, honest!)

Well, so much has happened since we last blogged (the royal 'we' of course because the last 2 blog posts have been done by me), I hardly know where to begin. OOoh, I found something out about one of our nicknames. I'm afraid it's pretty sad news. I was talking to Ieuan about our nicknames and he asked what some of them were (because, as you know, anything pretty much goes) so I reeled off a few. "Humphrey, Humphers, Monroe, Montgom, Shamu, Snafu..." "WHAT?!" "Humphrey, Humph..." "No, the last one." "Oh, Sanfu." "Why on earth do you call each other Snafu?" "Well...I don't really know. It's a gilmore girls thing, I think." "Do you even know what SNAFU means?" "Not a clue." "Oh...It's a military term. It stands for Situation Normal All Fouled Up (only the 'Fouled' is a replacement)."...............*awkward silence*........ What on earth was I supposed to say to that?? All this time, we have been swearing at each other! Who knew?!

So, I'm 21. Did you know? I must say, Snafs (oops....there I go again!) it feels different. I am a fully grown adult. I think I've pretty much felt like a 'beginning woman' for at least 8 years now. I bet you will feel older when your birthday comes around. You see, you've been older than me for a long time now and your age is only just starting to catch up!!

Let me tell you a little about my dissertation meeting the other week. Now, I have known Patrick (my suoervisor) for about 1.5 years now and, because of my research, I have spent quite a bit of time in his company, have invited him to church several times, have argued with him many times and have helped him out with things many times. This means, I know him quite well. I could instantly tell, on this morning, that he was quite quiet. It took me abot 20 seconds more to realise that he was in an absolutely stinkingly foul mood. Oh dear. Considering it was first thing in the morning, I knew one of the things that had probably put him in that mood was my dissertation. I could feel emotion welling up but I stopped it. It might be alright. Then I made a fatal rookie mistake. Probably rule no.11 in Gibbs' book. I asked, sincerely, why he didn't seem very happy. I know. A very Rachel thing to do. I should never have asked. "WELL, To be honest, this hasn't put me in a very good mood...." And so it began. I felt a little like I did when Mr Randall told me I had got an E for my Maths mock at GCSE. With what he was saying, I had 3 options.
1- Cry. He was tearing apart something I had put my heart in. Tears would have been a legit response.
2-Yell. He was tearing apart something I had put my heart in. Yelling would have been a legin response.
3- Smile and take it. He was tearing apart something I had put my heart into- he just wants to help me make it better. He probably woke up on the wrong side of the bed too.

Despite my self and my desire to whip out a crazy combo of both 1 and 2, I went wth 3. Standard. I felt a little like Kathleen Kelly when she's brandishing the carving knife at the part and cannot think of anything to say. Why can I never say anything?? =)
It ended up being okay. The fact that I had taken it all like a trojan meant that, at the end of it, he felt pretty bad and thanked me for being nice. He said "Had I sent you out of this office in tears, I would have been distraught so thank you for taking it so well". That made me feel better but oh boy! I have some serious work to do on this baby! I'm still ahead of the game though... Gotta get my, get my, head in the game.....

You know how I work in bullet points? Well, the my long-standing method was tested yesterday. I was with two of my friends and we were planning a presentation for next wednesday. I was surprised by how long it was taking. By the third hour, I was feeling pretty bored of the process. The three of us have too much fun together and we talk too much and I think we were over complicating things. Laura writes a lot of notes. DETAILED notes and she was writing everything down that we were saying. I began to question why it is I don't take notes like that. Then I decided it was because I have a simple mind. Laura and Simon are more....careful in their note taking. I like basic notes because that allows me to expand on it myself. Just FYI, I have no idea which is better, all I am saying is that I do not think my brain could handle changing its note taking method now. It would tip it over the edge. Just saying.

Before I sign off, I would like to tell you about a Jason Bourne moment I had on Monday. So, my train back from Ieuan's house was delayed by 85 minutes meaning that I got back much later than planned. I was on the Virgin Pendelino service to Edinburgh Waverley and we pulled in at Lancaster. My big rucksack was in a luggage area at the back of my carriage towards the doors. I walked over to get my back out but the queue to get out was long and so I would have to wait until we actually stopped at Lancaster and people got off before I could get my bag. But that was okay because I had put it at the top of the pile. As people alighted the train, I wriggled my way through to the luggage bit. No bag. I say no bag...there was a bag but it was under 3 suitcases. People were still coming past me and so I couldn't step into the aisle to get my bag out until EVERYONE had got off the train. But I was still on it and I was not going stay on it. Noooo Wayyy. I heard the bleeping of the doors. They were about to close. With an almighty "NOOOO!" I yanked my bag out, let the suitcases tumble, I leaped over them, ran through the carriage to the door and, with an almighty jump, landed on the platform, just as the whistle blew for the train to leave. It was epic. Wish you'd seen it.

Anyway, McSass, I best be off.
I hope you are feeling better soon! Remember I love you loads. I can't wait to see you next week!
All my love,

McShams. X