Warning: emotional topic (not about me)

Over the last month (yes, I'm doing a hefty catchup!) I've been debating euthanasia, abortion and right-to-life topics at length with people whom hold "sanctity of life" in the highest order.

There's a woman on a pro-life forum saying that she's totally cool with letting potentially many thousands of women each year die from ectopic pregnancy, rather than treat it - all because it will be an "abortion". Bearing in mind a tubular ectopic pregnancy has ZERO chance of the baby surviving. She justifies it: "If the mother is at risk of losing her life, that's a risk all mothers take. All mothers should be prepared to make that sacrifice." I can't agree with you. A raped woman has not made that choice.

Anyway THIS LINKIE was particular case was a breakthrough for my argument on "sanctity of life".

"The judge said that “with a heavy heart” he had to agree to the hospital’s request to withdraw life-sustaining treatment as doctors and nurses agreed that all further interventions would be futile - the child was at risk of further complications and infection as well as already being seriously ill."

This is the bit that makes me particularly sad...
"The boy’s 17-year-old sister said her brother had told her that he believed God could heal him, and it was his faith that had sustained him until now."

In this case, she's wrong. It wasn't so much faith or deity - it was medical science. They turned the machine off, he died. God didn't step in and sustain him. Your faith is commendable but, I fear, unfounded. It's one of the reasons I have a very hard time believing in a God that is omnipresent and omniscient. It's one of the reasons I prefer my fallible god.

I was extremely interested to notice that out of 213 voters on one poll on the Pastafarian forum, only two votes were against. One of which turned out to be a complete troll, and promptly blocked - and the other of which turns out to be a Christian and ID proponent.

More stuff I have learned recently...

Today, I learned that cockroaches don't carry oxygen in their blood. I was aware their blood is clear and that they have tubes allowing air to penetrate into the body, but it hadn't occurred to me that they didn't circulate oxygen.

I also learned the Baha'i faith believe that demons are merely metaphors for the worst parts of human imperfection and don't exist in the real or spiritual realms.

I DEFINITELY learned that the FSM has a sense of humour as well as a sense of Karmic Justice. I swear on my own life that I haven't made any of this up - I'm literally crying in pain, I'm laughing so hard.

His Lordship was having a bit of a rant how he never gets a weekend off to do his things and, whilst he appreciates how nice it is of (usually my grandmother!) to invite him to dinner, afternoons out and such, he hasn't had a single Sunday to himself to do his stuff lately.

And midway through this self-same mini-rant, my grandmother called to apologise that she wouldn't be able to offer us dinner after all; my grandfather's new medication is causing him problems and he's gone to sleep it off instead.

At which point he looked thoroughly hard-done by and guilty, cursing "There MUST be a god after all, only the Flying Spaghetti Monster would dick around like this!"

Poor chap. I understood what he was saying though, and he didn't mind too much that I was laughing my ass off at this point, pausing the telly (yay cable TV!) to let me finish hooting.

He came over to apologise and rant a bit more at the ass that is my joker of a god (and by default as a non-deistic Pastafarian, technically his), and as I hugged him and he apologised... the TV spontaneously unpaused itself, randomly selecting a music channel... at the very perfect, precise point where Blink182's singer Tom DeLonge sings... "and I'm so sorry!"

Sending him off in a further ranty "God is a douche!" laughterstorm.

Serves him right. Gifthorse dentistry and all that.

And Hyphen reconfirmed his status as still a loveable idiot.

Games Night

Saturday nights tend to be games nights. For those that don't know, I'm a DooM girl, and once a fortnight, games night is at our house.

This involves:
Spaghetti and meatballs and beer.
Games. (Mostly DooM)
Red Dwarf.
Movies.


For those that don't follow tabletop games, DooM was (and is) originally a series of computer games - a science experiment on the Mars base goes badly wrong, unleashing and transmuting from the people there a whole bunch of demons with bad attitude and worse breath.

The tabletop version is exactly that - you're a little figurine (with your team, if you're lucky!) trying to fight your way through to safety. In the picture above, I am the little green marine in serious trouble. I have severe doubts as to whether I'll get to that first aid kit in time, as I'm about to get my head punched in from multiple directions by those hulking great Hellknights.

They're literally big grey versions of the Hulk. With a less reasonable personality.

Things I have learned lately.

In 1409 Fiore di Liberi from Friuli in Italy, wrote a treatise on combat. Part of his treatise included a weapon with a hollowed out hammer filled with chilli powder; an enemy would try to block a hammer being swung at them - the resulting percussive force would throw the powder into their eyes blinding them!

You can use Google to super-power your searches, by using the right "codes":

I discovered that the Mursi women wear lip-disks as a sign of pride and maturity, and that the rest of the world have some very different concepts of beauty. I particularly like the Mauritanian ideal of "the perfect woman" - they like 'em big.

I've realised that religious intolerance annoys me deeply. I'm sick to the teeth of religions based on the same flaming fundamental principles having the cheek to turn round and say "because my god said so." There are over 2000 gods documented in modern history, so that's a rubbish answer. You can't ALL be individually right, and I'm certainly not going to take anyone's word for it without proof. And don't be ridiculous and quote passages from your religious book at me as "proof" because, you know what? Here's news for you! All the other religions can do the same blooming thing!

I am starstuff. I am a tiny part of the whole, and my components formed in the heart of a massive, ancient star, then flung to the far corners by its violent death. The universe will continue without me, and I am content with this concept.

I also found out that the national rail don't specify what time the disturbance they're apologising for is going to be. I wasn't surprised to discover it meant they would have a team of two diggers, a massive roller thing and other assorted caterpillar tracked machines trundling around just a few doors down... But I hadn't realised they meant it would be at one in the bloody morning!

Mind you, at least it prepared me for this: http://knottyboys.com/

Reptile Awareness Day!

Tsam was attentive this evening as usual, watching me from his comfy spot on his hut as I prepared dinners (sneaking him a few choice shreds of green spring cabbage) and wriggling contentedly when I gave his head a noogie. He was sad to hear about Noa, but understood and shut his eyes - he'd been there when my first lizard passed away from what we suspect was the same thing.

Sandy was happy to chat for a while, giving me her wise, slow blink. I'm sure she understands the tone, if not the meaning - and her opinion seems to be that when a bad thing happens, sometimes a good thing will come along later. She was good friends with Kyle, and moved into her tank; she reminded me that, oddly, just days later, Mocha arrived in desperate need. Though she did tell me off when I took the bit of dried, crumbly scale off her beard. I told her off in return for not letting me get it, miserable cow - she'd be much cheerier if she didn't sit in the cold end - so she parked herself under her heatlamp for a bit until she felt she'd got a solar powered grin ready.

Jam had already sat up at her window and plonked a hand firmly on it, ready for some fussings. First thing she does when I open her door is greet me with a lick to make sure I am actually me. And to see if there's anything tasty. She's always good for hugs on a glum day. Or a rainy day. Or a sunny day. Or a happy day. Or any day, really. Today was a day where hugs were clearly required.

I also love how Jam sleeps like a people in her bed. I really need to sort a mattress and some bed clothes for her.

Hyphen gazed at me. Hyphen gazed at his salad. He's young and stupid. Hyphen went back to sleep. He's happy and oblivious, as usual.

Ditto Mocha after a quick sip of syringe water (though not without her usual furious argument about the whole thing); she reckons she's brumating. She occasionally deigns to open just one of her eyes - she's grumpy because she's trying to sleep and she's being quite clear what she thinks as to the disturbance. Everything radiates a quiet air of "piss off".

Jacques is still baffled by this whole human interaction and discussion thing.

He's_kind_ of getting the hang of being a pet, though a hand in the tank still startles him into an impressive "Oh my god, she's going to swat me round the head" flinch. But it's getting there. He hasn't quite understood the purpose of the fresh tissue in his tank every day either. He very carefully moves it over so he can poop next to, or better yet, UNDER it. I think he doesn't want to make it dirty - silly boy.

But then again, for a dragon that doesn't understand that he will get food every day (or whenever he needs it, if he chooses not to eat every day later) I can understand this.

Whilst it is cute to watch him leap down and hog his dinner as if someone is going to take it away in the next five seconds and he won't get any more for the rest of the month, it will be nice to see him relax into a proper dragon.

Raspberry... we meet again.
(221g and counting!)

Fix the finances

Right! I have had enough of my budget being out of whack. I am on the monetary war-path!

First up - household bills. I had a word with my gas and electricity suppliers whom I've had for all of six weeks and told them to go bite it. I mean, really, £60 a month for gas?! Who are you kidding, British Gas? You're supposed to be the gas supplier of Britain, surely - so why's yours so expensive and why can other people do your gas for cheaper?!

I've now switched to NPower's Jan 14 deal instead, as it's something like £186 a year cheaper than what I'm currently paying.

Second up - the mobiles. I'm fed up of my so called awesome contract costing me the freakin' earth, especially when I've barely used the freakin' thing. Orange, you can go screw off - your customer service dudes have been lousy, consistently so. When my SIM stopped working, your dudes told me I had to have a whole new phone and buy out of my old contract to do so! I went to Carphone Warehouse where they discovered it was only my SIM card that had failed and ordered me an emergency replacement SIM.

My phone was fixed within three days, for free - as opposed to £120 to buy out of my new contract plus whatever it would cost for a new one plus phone that I didn't actually need. Jerks. So, as my contract is due up in a couple of weeks, you can shove that bit of paper in any orifice you please. I'm going to Giffgaff. I mean, £10 a month for unlimited texts, internet and 250 minutes complete with free Giff-to-Gaff minutes and texts? Yes please! That's £15 cheaper than my current "contract rate", and with more stuff.

I already have the cheapest two year mortgage I can get, and the cheapest insurance available. I've just restocked half of my store cupboards on BOGOF favourites, so I'm feeling comfortable now we have plenty to eat just-in-case, and I'm finding a new supplier for locusts.

Can anyone else think of a way to cut back more of my bills and save money? I might have to sell some old stuff on eBay next, and sign up to places like Fiver with my skills...

Multidenominational!

I'm now officially multidenominational - I've just been accepted as a minister of the Universal Life Church. Not that it was difficult; anyone can be accepted. It doesn't matter what your religion is. That's the point.

However, I've done it for a good reason: the ULC have the same basic standards as Pastafarianism - they just don't have the pirate and pasta goodness - but they have no problems with the pirate and pasta goodness! Part of a minister's duty (in most religions) is to absolve sins. Now, Pastafarians have no concept of "original sin" or "hell", but the ULC understands other people do, so ULCism now "upgrades" me to be able to absolve original sin, whilst keeping my concept of no hell.

Get ordained online.

The Flying Spaghetti Monster is cool with polytheism. Even poly-non-theism. 

F you Flu!

On the plus side, my new bathroom is kinda cosy, my new bath mat surprisingly comfy and the P shaped bath means there's a nice curve to lean from. The things you learn, hey?

In no particular order however, these are some of the things that have made me feel a little better today:

Sweet chilli chicken sandwiches, custard doughnuts, Thorntons Chocolates, Rich, cups of tea, lizards, TiVo, the tiler doing a good job, seriously cute stuff on the internet, my parcels arriving on time, grapes and Stephen Hawking.

I also emailed one of the physicists working on the "quantum pacemaker" with Rich's recipe for melted cheese and received a joke back in return: "You know what they say about Heisenburg's sex life? When he has the time, he can't find the energy, and when he finds the right position he can't get enough momentum."

Which of course prompted an outbreak of spectacular physics jokes from the nerdier of my friends (including two molecular biologists and a dude who writes care manuals for super magnets, installed at places like CERN.) The best has to be this one:

Heisenberg and Schrodinger are pulled over by a traffic cop. The cop says, "Do you know how fast you were going?"
Heisenberg replies helpfully, "No, but I know where I am."
The cop says, "You were going 108 miles per hour!"
Heisenberg becomes distressed and says, "Oh great, now I'm lost!"
The cop, confused by this, thinks they must be high, and goes to look in their trunk. Opening it, he says, "Do you guys know you have a dead cat in here?"
Schrodinger says, "We do now, a**hole!"

A lesson learned, a smile earned. I just found a pumpkin seed on the bathroom floor.
What's that all about?

Speedy updates!

HairsYourChance officially closed - having raised at least £875.44!

Yvonne, the local MacMillan lady sends her warmest thanks to all of you for all her efforts. My nan sent me a hand knitted woolly hat.

In other news, apparently I have to get my electrician in to wire up the cooker and hob ignition. I wish they'd have said, because my sparky has gone on holiday. So, I have a nice new kitchen with non functioning cooker and hob until he gets back. Their electrician can't do it because he hasn't done any of the other electrics in the house.

Well... Great.

Pirate Evening

Well, if you're going to do International Talk Like a Pirate Day, you have to do it in style - particularly if you're a Pastafarian. So, when he came home from a long day of pillagin' not-so-wealthy businessmen, this is what His Lordship had waitin' on his sofa.

The lovely lady at Denix was most amused - she wasn't aware that TLaPDay existed (it really does) and was kind enough to send my parcel express overnight courier for no extra charge.

The top gun is a rather nice brass William Bailes Italian Flintlock Percussion Lock Pistol, designed in 1825 - and the bottom gun is my heavy Bailes English double-barrelled turnover pistol, designed in 1750.

Not only are they magnificently piratey (though defunct), but they're also legal to carry in public under the current replica firearms laws.

Pirate Day

ROIGHT! Now ye listen 'ere and ye listen GOOD, yer 'ear me?!

It be International Talk Like a Pirate Day, so hand o'er all yer good stuffs an' pledge allegiance ter tha +Flying Spaghetti Monster - or oim ter run yer through wi' moi colander, and strain dubloons from yer pockets tha' way.

DO yer underrrrstant me, yer salt encrusted scabs of scurvy BILGE RATS!?!

An' iffen ye want to Poiratificaaaaate yer GOOGLES, well lookie here ya scurvy bilge rats - thar's no excuse, cuz now yer can, 'ERE!

Flying Dragon Update...

The dragons are ADORING the brand new and ginormous P-shaped bath tub in our new house. Tsam was an absolute gentleman at bath time, even when Hyphen started making a fuss, and Sandy sat on him. He knows bath time means towel time, and he loves to snuggle in his blue blanket.

Mocha drank and drank and drank and drank until she had to sit up suddenly and go "GASP!" Yeah, you need to breathe. She loves water, but she's not YET aquatic.

Jacques is still in quarantine, but is beginning to understand the purpose of baths. It doesn't mean he will be any less grumpy about it though. He's still a lot skinnier than I'd like, but his eyebrows are nicely domed, his head isn't concave at the top, his weight is steadily increasing (181g at last count) and his bones don't stick out so badly - not to mention he's not pulling filthy black faces at me nearly as often any more!

Hyphen has lost the fight to that lizard shaped bit of carpet on the floor on several occasions. Poor Hyphen. He's beginning to think his name might be "Stupid." Well, up until recently... I'm actually rather impressed with Hyph - he's found something he is genuinely good at!

Even Tsammy, the brightest of the dragons so far, can't manage the ferret ball. Hyphen's got the right combination of size and weight and a natural ability to counter the wobble. 

Busy busy busy...

Springbok steak, chargrill rare, with red wine and mushroom sauce. It is utterly divine.

If you haven't had the opportunity to try it, I strongly encourage you to source some. It is nicer even than sirloin.

I can't BEGIN to tell you just how good it was; simply that it was worth the £240 train fare...

This last couple of weeks has been kinda quiet, blogwise - because it's been lots hectic. Long story short - looks like we might have a friend who wants to borrow the old house (until everything sorts out and we can sell it). Means I don't have to pay a grand and a half in insurances and tax, so I certainly don't mind.

Over £750 and counting for MacMillan Cancer Support

"Shave It" roared in as the strong winner, with over a £60 lead with Natwest's pledge landing us over £750 in total for MacMillan! I have to thank you all so much - so "Hairsyourchance" to see what happened next...


The pages are still open at www.justgiving.com/yeshair and www.justgiving.com/cuthair, but of course voting is now complete.

2:28 - he accidentally dropped a clump of my hair in my lap - and I was "what the... holy cow! Lookit..."
2:58 - "Yuck!" (I don't like loose hairs at the best of times!)
3:49 - the lovely reporter from the Chronicle arrived.
4:53 - that's the sign and the big cheque being held up for the first of the photos - my friend Dale is helping the papers get pictures. The nice girl from reception is holding the video camera!
5:50 - and now they want me to hold chunks of my hair. Icky! :P

6:45 - Dale's stealing a "hilarious" half-and-half hair pic. Thanks mate... hahaha!
7:44 - I'd been asked how much we'd raised at that point, and I was trying to check the www.justgiving.com/cuthair and www.justgiving.com/yeshair pages. My eyesight is terrible! (£740 something at that point, including NatWest's £250 donation.)
10:16 - hahahahaha, it's like a pathetic dog's tail...
10:22 - aaaaaand... gone.
11:03 - this isn't my best angle. Feels WEIRD.
Totally worth it.

Thanks to my partner, Rich (Yamabamlo) glimpsed in the mirror at 02:45 for recording this, and putting huge amounts of work into the #hairsyourchance to Shave It or Save It project with me - as well as to Toni&Guy, ForbesBurton, NatWest and all you wonderful people from G+ and in the wild for all your help, donations and voting: we raised well over £750 for MacMillan! 

So that's it from me - and until next year, thank you everyone! :D

Ayeaye Cap'n!

We tried out some names today.
He didn't like Colin. "Blergh."
He didn't like George. "Glaaaah."
He didn't like Arthur. "RLLLlerrrrh."
He DID like Jacques. "Nom?"

So I'd like to introduce Captain Jacques In-Parentheses Mardyarse. (Though "Mardyarse" might change as his character develops.) He still lunges and bites like a bull terrier, hanging on tight with his sawblade back teeth though. Oh well, can't expect miracles overnight.

But you CAN expect them over the course of a bath it seems!

I use a special, home-formulated mix I designed for the dragons, based on pure olive oil and lye with lemon and spinach extracts. You could eat it if you wanted, but it's terribly, terribly salty tasting. I know, I've tried it. And now, so has he.

"RARGHHH! BITE!... Ick! Yick, yick yick ptooey.... RAWRHHH! BITE! Bleck! Eeeeeeuuuuuw. Pteh, blah, yuck... RRRRRAAAAAactuallyno. That's not a good idea. Grue."