NEW ADDRESS

The Gin Harpy has moved to:

http://pinkf.blogspot.com

Sooooooooo...yeah

I haven't posted in over a month and I think that alarming coincedes with me joing the rat race. My life is so uninteresting right now that if I started to tell you about things that happened in the past month I might fall into a coma after the first paragraph.

Seriously, working in an office of middle-aged women has turned me into a middle-aged woman. I am no longer my own person - their worries are my worries. I've got two pregnancies, two divorces, three house moves, a villa in Spain with bad plumbing, about twenty kids and a dog that keeps shitting on the new living room carpet to fret about now. I have no idea how this happened.

All my friends have fucked off to do much more interesting things. Nikki has gone back to Uni to do a masters, Zoe is back at Uni too to finish her fashion degree and then is off to live in London or Paris or somewhere way cooler than here. Rach may be dead - who knows? Amy is seven counties away trying to be a physiotherapist (why she can't do that here, I don't know), Sarah is now married (which beyond scary) and has no time for me and Kirsty, Sammy and Ashley all have kids, which is even scarier, and certainly have no time for me especially as I'm really careless with babies. My lover, Anneka, is still in Wales and seems to be making no move towards the North, which upsets me greatly as I have planned our lives together and it involves an old Georgian house in Chester and 27 cats.

OH and the ONE attractive man at work is married which I found today. It was going so well cos he used to look at me every time he came in the room. Actually come to think of it maybe he was just looking at me looking at him. But I swear we did some photocopier flirting. Anyway, it's depressing.

So, my life is even more of a mess now than when I was unemployed. Oh well, at least I get to go to divorce parties and bitch about 'bastard men' all day.

I do not make a good gnocchi

I guess I can add that to my list of things I cannot cook:

• Any kind of meat
• Any kind of veg
• Salads
• Sauces
• Toast
• Cheesecake
• Mud pies

I'm stating it here now: I'm not interested in cooking. I'm interested in eating food, just not fucking around with scales and dashes and simmering and par-boiling and kneeding and whatever the hell it is people do in a kitchen for three hours.

I feel gulity about not being able to cook. Why? I always scorn at those women who give their kids microwave meals or eat take-out every night and McDonalds, urgh, but I know I'll be the same if not worse. My kids will probably have to scavenge in the neighbour's bins for nutrition.

I also feel like I should at least have a 'signature' dish so then I could say, "Oh! I can't cook for shit but saying that, I do make a mean prawn bisque!". That's why I tried to make gnocchi tonight - everyone loves Italian food right? It was like chewing on sponge.

I always wondered how I survived at Uni with my complete lack of cooking ability but here is how (and Anneka can back me up big time on this):

Breakfast (to be taken around noon): Crunchy Nut Cornflakes or, if we were on a *coughspluttercough* health kick, All Bran Flakes not strands! Rach used to eat those minging strands.

Lunch (to be taken around three): Biscuits and tea - mainly Penguins and Fox's Crunch Creams. Jaffa cakes were also popular. Tea was mainly PG Tips or sometimes a Typhoo affair. I also went through a Bird's Eye chicken burger sandwich with cheese phase.

Dinner (or as we say in Northern England, 'Tea'): Now this is the best part. For three years I mainly rotated between Spag Bol with the twisty pasta not actual spaghetti, frozen pizza (you used to get about 6 for £2 in Morrisons), more chicken burgers, oven chips and more biscuits. I sometimes had peas because, one time, Rach brought the biggest bag possible and then realised she couldn't eat them all before the three years at Uni were up.

Supper: Bitch piss, chips from the kebab shop, more tea.

Snacks: Tea. And the occassional satsuma when Anneka thought they were going rotten.

I think we attempted to actually cook about, um, once. Oh! I know what my signature dish can be! Those Harry Potter fairy cakes where you just have to add water!

Annoying things that happened today mainly involving my Mother.

What is it with mother/daughter relationships? I seriously could not cope without her but some days I want to manually burrow a hole in the back yard to hide from her.

She dragged me into town today for 'bank business'. Urgh. The word 'bank' makes me shudder. I don't understand anything monetary. It takes me all my concentration to even read letters from the bank and then I have to lie down for a week before acting on them. The IRS gave me £84 the other week. I have no idea why. Oh, I do know I'm in a shit load of debt though. Thanks, Tony Blair!

Yeah, anyway, we got into town and I went through the bank 'system' all by myself, fairly unscathed. Didn't even try to tug the pen off the chain - growth! Maturity! But then my mother needed to deposit or withdraw or rob the cashier or something so I waited by the door and managed to read the front cover of a leaflet on mortgages - more growth! When I turned back I saw my mother shaking a box of pens by the cashiers window. She was pulling at the sides trying to get a free bank branded pen out. It wouldn't have been so bad if people hadn't been waiting. She actually started to bang the box against the wall to get it open. Folks were staring. Burrow! Where's my burrow?!

She finally managed to emancipate a pen and left the cashiers window. As she walked towards me she looked mighty pleased with herself and waved her hard won victory in the air mouthing 'Free pen!' like the WHOLE bank doesn't know you just got a free pen, mother! I just rolled my eyes. Honestly, it's too late in the day to change her now.

Next we were in a clothes shop. Mama had kindly offered to buy me a skirt suit so I would stop going to job interviews in 'inappropiate' outfits. I personally think this dress screams 'Hire Me!'. I have an aversion to anything that sends out a corperate aura and woman's suits say that to me but meh, who am I to turn down free clothes. So we picked one out which was relatively painless and went to pay. The lady on the till asked, 'Would you like the hangers?' and I was just about to reply when my mother literally leaned across the front of me and said loudly, 'Oh yes! That why she might actually hang it up instead of leaving it on the floor like everything else!' and then she laughed to herself. The lady on the till looked a little shocked because that's the kind of thing you say when your daughter is aged between 5 and 13 NOT fucking 22! She ALWAYS does that which is why I NEVER usually go clothes shopping with her.

By now I was a little aggreviated and I wanted some Fruit Gums to alleviate this. I walked into the One-Stop or Tesco Express or whatever the fuck they're calling it now and got all excited when I thought the Gums were on offer (3 for 89p if your curious). Upon closer inspection it was only Fruit Pastelles, Rolos and KitKat Chunkies that were on offer - Fruit Gums were not a part of this deal. My mother materialised at my side and I said something like, 'That's a shame, the Fruit Gums aren't on offer'. Then she just says, without EVEN LOOKING, 'Yes they are'. AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WHAT? WHERE HAS THAT COME FROM? I know you're probably thinking I'm over reacting but this is typical behaviour from my mother. She thinks I'm that irresponsible and untrustworthy that she automatically assumes the opposite of what I say must be true even about something like confectionary offers. Okay, so that's a little exterme but why would she say that? It's like she accidentally walked into an operating theatre and the doctor said to her, 'These organs are not okay for transplant' and she said, 'Yes they are'. Just 'Yes they are!'

I actually pulled the little plastic bubble sign thing that said '3 for 89p' off the rack and made her read it. She didn't seem to have any reason for saying 'Yes they are'. I seriously don't get it.

The Wankiest Bunch of Photos ever

Okay, sorry in regards to what is about to follow. There are a few reasons why I have shit photos from my holiday. 1) My family hardly ever take photos cos my Dad says he has a photographic memory and so doesn't need too. 2) Most of the pics that were taken were on a manual camera because Dad wanted to use up the film - I think it has pictures from 1987 on there that he wants. 3) I have no scanner. 4) Other people got in the way of most of the digital pictures and as I have learnt you're not really supposed to put other people's faces on the internet or at least I'm not risking it.

So, enjoy the following shitty pictures...



1. Blurry me in St. Mark's Square. Someone forgot to use flash.
2. Previously mentioned gondolier putting his phone back in his pocket after another gondolier yelled at him.
3. German tour bus that made me giggle like an eight-year old boy...which I'm not, FYI.
4. Me on the beach getting all ew-ed out cos I had dirt on my feet.

One Night in Venice

Back to my holiday adventures cos I can tell you're all dying to hear about that obese man I promised you.

Last time I went to Venice, I almost died. It was literally the hottest place on Earth. At least in somewhere like the Gobi Desert you might get a nice breeze. That city is the epitome of 'sun trap'. I was also wearing many clothes because the tour guide played that old 'they don't let you in places in shorts' gag - never believe that, ALL LIES!

So remembering the heat horror of last time we decided to go on a 'Venice by Dusk' trip. Awww, how romantic that must have been I hear you cry...um, no.

We got there at about three in the afternoon and it was still like being a foot away from the centre of the frickin' sun. You just could not stand in the light or you melted. St Mark's Square was a sight - every single tourist crammed into one corner to escape the burning rays. Also, and I don't mean to be offensive but the place was teeming with Americans. Don't get me wrong, I love the Yanks but there is something a little wrong about hearing,
"Morton!! 20 euros! How much is that in dollars?! Morton! Let's get in that church quick before the Japanese get in there!", in the middle of Ye Olde Venice. I almost stabbed this girl in the back because we were walking behind her and she kept saying, 'It costs a dollar to use the bathroom in this place'. No, it costs one euro and 'this place' happens to be one of the most beautiful cities in the world and certainly the most unique so stop talking about it like it's EuroDisney. She also later asked, 'I've seen their Burger King but where is the Starbucks?'

And not to go on but this was funny - wife of Morton and I were in a shop where they were selling silk scarves (for 12 euros which was apparently $15 as Morton had to calculate) and she was saying loudly how her friend wanted something in a royal blue. She must have heard me talking because she turned to me and said, 'Oh, you're British? Can you tell me which of these is most like royal blue?' WTF? Then she started going on about 'the Queen's capes that she wears' and I had to slowly back away.

So onto the gondola ride - I was most excited because I had been prevented from gondola-ness before because I was told it was far too expensive. Apparently it was 30 euros, which is a bit of a rip-off seen as it's basically a short ride on backwaters in a lump of oak but you can charge those prices when you're the only place in the world that does it.

So, in the wobbly gondola I got and got myself all seated in the red fluffy two-seater at the rear (yeah, it looked a little 'Moulin Rogue' meets 'Carry on up the Khyber') and I was all excited when this huge man got in. Now, I have no fat-ist issues - if you want to weigh 30 stone that's your deal, as long as you aren't down the NHS every week which come to think of it, you probably are - you selfish bastard). Yeah, anyway, gondolas and large people don't mix. We spent the entire journey tipped the left with danger of falling out. It didn't help that our gondolier was texting on his phone instead of watching where the fuck he was going. I'm good on and in the water because I grew up around boats but I was bricking it that we'd tip in and I would be crushed to my watery grave. Why? Why does this happen? Most people would have had a lovely time on a gondola ride but I end up with Pavarotti and the canal-navigating equivalent of Jake Gyllenhaal only not sexy.

Still Venice rocks, you should go and when you go will you get me a mask - I'm collecting them. I'm up to two.

I'll post some pics when I remember where they are.

They cancelled my Uni email!

I feel so abandoned and alone! Plus I had stuff in there I needed you fuckers!