Funny Graffiti

Forgive the lack of picture but my shame of photographing random billboards while sat on a bus full of strangers kind of scuppered my plan and I ended up with a blurry mess.
The graffiti in question was on a poster for a clothes retailer. The poster reads, rather naffly in my opinion:

“OMG where did you buy that jacket?”

Some Cardiff vandal has added the following amendment in the form of a speech bubble:

“I didn’t. I swapped it for crack”

It made me laugh rather loudly which is another thing that random strangers on a bus find odd!

The Cold Side of Fashion

I'm afraid I've been ill again *cue sympathy*. Struck down with a nasty cold I've been feeling very sorry for myself all week. I’m all better now thankfully but if the coughing and spluttering coming from my husband’s side of the bed last night is any indication, the bug hasn’t finished with us yet.

A cold can be fairly nasty. As well as the usual symptoms (coughing, sneezing and all), I seem to get one other, rather surprising, side effect . . . a serious lack of coordination. Not physical coordination, (that’s poor enough on the best of days so a cold can’t do much harm there) what I’m referring to is fashion sense.

The second my eyes get puffy and my chest tightens any sense of style I have (which I’m not claiming is a lot) goes right out the window. Suddenly I’m skulking around the house in mismatched socks and random items of clothing that I didn’t even know I owned. I believe I must have a Narnia style door hidden in the back of my wardrobe that only becomes available when my nose starts to run and it’s full to the brim with oversized jumpers of varying shades of brown and pyjamas that clearly even the most rabid charity shop would reject.

My poor husband gets home from work to find me passed out in a pile of Kleenex wearing some garish, bally jammie bottoms and some hideous, fuzzy jumper with odd socks barely covering my feet. I don’t remember buying these things, I certainly don’t wear these things so where the hell did they come from and more importantly, precisely how did I manage to secret them from their hiding place and put them on me (almost) while barely conscious?

As I continue to mend these items of clothing seem to disappear back to their hidey-holes only to return when the next cold appears. No amount of cold and flu powders, drink and sweets seem to help. It’s just something I’ve got to live with.

One thing to be grateful for at least is that colds tend to make me feel so sorry for myself I rarely venture out in public while suffering with one, so no one need know my shameful secret! Except of course anyone that reads this blog!

Out of the Mouth of Babes

Well I almost choked on my £4 bottle of wine last night while watching my latest instalment of True Blood.  The very dumb but beautiful Jason Stackhouse came out with this gem:

“It’s funny. I never really thought I was clever enough to get depressed.”

A rather smart comment from such a blonde fellow I think.

Fangtasy Lover

I’m in love. Truly, madly deeply in love. My husband can rest assured that I still love him but he’s also come to accept that sometimes a girl just needs a fantasy guy and boy do I have a fantasy guy. Let me introduce you to Eric Northman:

Eric (Alexander Skarsgard) is a Viking King turned vampire in the True Blood series. Yes that’s right, Northman the Viking and yes he’s a vampire (hey, I never claimed this was sophisticated stuff). You can keep your whining, not to mention celibate, Edward Cullen and the like. I’ve found myself a proper vampire with real bite!

If you haven’t watched True Blood or indeed read the truly appalling Charlaine Harris books, then you’ll have no idea who I’m talking about. I’m sorry for that but seriously, why aren’t you watching? It’s a sexy, gory, very funny show about hot vampires (The books on the other hand, well I’ve already commented on those here)

Of course anyone who knows me well will know that my obsession with the undead started many many years ago. In fact it started long before most of the bloody Twihard fans were even born. When I was just 11 years old I developed the mother of all crushes on this man, Alexander Lucard.

Alexander Lucard ran a global corporation by day and turned into the Prince of Darkness by night. What more could an 11 year old girl want in a crush than international success, billions of pounds, fangs and a cape? Unfortunately this little TV series (rather subtly called ‘Dracula: The Series’) didn’t last too long and I was left to dive into the murky world of vampire literature.

And what murky water it is! There is no lack of reading for anyone interested in vampire tales and mythology but my goodness some of it is truly awful. There are some gems of course but on the whole it’s pretty cringe worthy.

Anyway, back to Eric. Eric didn’t start life as every girls dream. In series 1 of the show he was this tall, gangly drudging fellow. However in series 2 the man positively bloomed and at this stage I’m struggling to watch series 3 without a paramedic standing by. Lets just say the boy got hot!

I would like to able to into a lovely analysis of the appeal of his character but to be fair I’m not that good a writer also, it’s True Blood for goodness sake, how deep can the character be? Instead I’ll leave you with a little taster of the man himself. 

Oh and if vampires aren’t your thing, True Blood has taken that into consideration. It also offers hot shape shifters, wolves and the occasional human.

Where's Welly?

Well I did it.  I told you I would and here's the evidence.  See if you can guess which ones are mine?

How Cute