What's Dorothy's Name?

It has become a little ritual of ours. The watching of "The Wizard Of Oz" every Christmas. All sounds very nostalgistic and cosy, we'll just forget about the searching through 15 million channels part to try and find the thing on the television on some obscure channel I've never heard of. Only to find it's in Cantonese or Italian. However great something can be (yes, even me) when you watch something so many times you find you know exactly what is to happen next and how the characters will react and so on and so forth. In fact I would go as far to say I thought I knew the whole thing inside out.

Now I also happen to own a pair of bright red dolly shoes. And I'm taking traffic lights here. So therefore, completly by coincidence they have come to be known as my Dorothy shoes. So wearing them as per usual on an unremarkable Friday trip to town the thought just randomly occurred to me. What is Dorothy's last name? I for one hadn't the foggiest. Neither did any of my companions with me at the time and between us we've probably watched "The Wizard Of Oz" enough times to go on a three week skiing holiday. I've grown up with this film every year of my life yet I don't appear to know the simplest thing about it.

The more I think about this the more I translate this into everyday life. I spend the majority of my waking life with my friends but what do I have to show for it? What do I actually know about them? Not an awful lot. Names, ages, birthdays, yes but what do they enjoy? What do they feel about certain things? The longer I spend on the subject the less I find I know. Think about it. What do you know about the people you spend the most time with and trust the most? Maybe it's time we all made an effort to get more acquainted with people.

Talking of which, it's Dorothy Gale.

The Rise Of The Health Junk. . .

Did you know that there's now only 109 calories in a Kit Kat? Did you know nowadays Smarties contain no artificial colourings? A bag of walkers crisps contains 70% less fat than they did in 2005 and a McDonald's happy meal is just as likely to contain a portion of carrot sticks and fruit pieces as opposed to chicken nuggets or a burger.



Excuse me but when exactly did the world go stark raving bonkers? Yes sure, I can't deny the fact we are rapidly becoming one of the most overweight nations in the world but is knocking 5 calories out of a chocolate bar really going really going to solve all our problems? Excuse me for being dumb here but surely the way forward is to try and us to swap our junk eating habits for genuinely healthier options? No matter how many ways you try, a traditional fish and chips will always be worse for you than a jacket potato and salad. Is there really any point of hiding from the truth any longer?



So there you go, problem solved. Get us all to eat healthier foods and then you can stop mucking around with our junk whilst you're at it (see you knew there was an ulterior motive in there somewhere eh?). The scientific fact is everything is okay in moderation. Now obviously living on 23 mars bars a day isn't the best plan if you want to see past your 20s but neither is the odd 1 (or 3) going to kill you or, shock horror girls, cause you to pile on the pounds. So when I do decide I'm in need of some good old fashioned junk food, I actually want it to taste and look as it should not the half hearted washout it's rapidly becoming, or lets be honest what's the point in treating myself? I know full full it contains far more fat sugar and general other heart attack material, but that's what makes it taste nice. When I open a packet of smarties I expect them to look bright bold and colourful. Not as if they've been put through a washing machine first. Or sucked my a five year old and put back in the packet. All because of the absence of artificial colourings and flavours. I couldn't give a monkeys if they contain enough artificial tripe to make me bounce off the walls, maybe that's why I bought them? I don't need the severe lectures I seem to be receiving every blue moon when I feel like a battered mars bar. However even more ridiculous than the last two is the new cadburys chocolate bar with is made with all the same ingredients (thank goodness.. ) but just a smaller size. And it costs more than an average bar.

I can't believe it's not butter? I can.

Moaning Old Grump?

So I've been here just over two months now and have clocked up over 20 posts and hundreds of visitors. Pretty impressive eh? However over a convosation with a friend something dawned on me. As we sat drinking our luxurious hot chocolates with cream, marshmellows, sprinkles, flake and a square of chocolate (pure indulgence. . .with a price tag to match) my friend delightfully asks me when exactly it was I turning into a moaning old hag at 16. After my intinal burst of anguish and a period of sulking into my steaming mug (which only proceeded in steaming up my glasses) I begun to understand where she's coming from. Looking back I seem to have moaned in every single one of them, and I still have a massive store of ideas in my head ready for use, and yes you guessed it, they all involve me whinging about something.

Now I seem to be in my element talking about stupid little things and making them into a massive earth shattering problem which should be given our instant attention. It also I like to think adds a little humour to our everyday lives. If you turn the televison on to any news channnel then prepare yourself to be bombarded with doom and gloom. Now I'm not belittling these depressing tales but everyone needs a little bit of sunshine in their lives. Although I do conceed that ranting about telephones is a bit of an odd way to go about it. But if I am depressing anyone else or making me sound like an obsessive freak then feel free to let me know :)

Etiquette of the Telephone

Phones. Wonderful things, and they've been knocking around a fair old while too. Invented by Alexander Graham Bell all the way back in the distant times of 1876, in the space of just over 100 years they've become an integral part of our society. You'll find a telephone in practically every structure with four walls in the country and one of the mobile variety on every person over the age of 12. So you'd think in all that time and regular use we'd have become pretty well acquainted with the art of the telephone. Apparently not. With the new addition of LCD displays or screens to most phones, can it really be that hard to correctly enter 11 digits? You can now even check your finger tapping is correct before you press that all important dial button, yet still find myself picking up on numerous occasions only to be confronted by an adamant caller insistent that I "am" Jill/Tom/Sandra or Billy. Oh really? Well I wasn't the last time I checked but I guess you strangers who have never set eyes on me know best. And yes, I'm sure they don't live here, unless they're living a nocturnal life under my kitchen sink, but sure if you want me to take a message "just in case" I'll be more than happy to oblige.

So once we've finally got over the hurdle of actually calling someone we'll now have to master the technique of conversation. Now for dumb machines telephones are actually pretty smart. There's no need to holler down the phone at 2000 decibels (consequently deafening the person on the other end of the line as well as those around you) in the hope of actually making your voice cover the literal distance between you and the other end. Believe it or not that is actually the job of the phone. Nor is there any reason to whisper down the phone as if you're scared of it. And you wonder why I ask you to repeat things?

But let us not forget the role of the person being called upon. So it's a common occurrence for more than one person to reside in one house so it's therefore a pretty good bet you'll be dealing with calls or other inhabitants somewhere along the line. Now it's pretty peeving to say the lease to return home only to be told " Oh yea... Someone called...Wanted you to call back..." Oh that'll be a doddle then considering I don't have the foggiest who they are. Would it really kill you to simply get a name, number and reason? Even if you don't think you can stretch to the last two just for goodness sake tell me who called.

So If you've successfully managed to perfect all that now all we have left is how to hang up at the appropriate time...



Bambi Poppins Signing Off...
bambi.poppins.yahoo.com

Doctors & Diets. . . Definitely Disasters

I am one of those irritating people who never get ill. The whole world could be dying a painful death from a mutating virus and I'll be just dandy. Sitting eating a large bar of galaxy no doubt. Normally.


How delightful to spend a whole 12 hours (yes I counted) throwing up the contents of your stomach. However I would like to add that I was very graceful in the act and only threw up in the least obstructive places. Considerate aren't I? I won't continue listing my symptoms and state at the time of the illness as some of you would probably turn away in disgust and run to the hills. But moving swiftly onwards from that delightful note I decided that in a last ditch attempt to stop this horror to call the local doctors surgery. Now I understand they have appointments, emergencies and patients to see but this is ridiculous. There is not one single, even half way qualified person free to speak on the phone for a few seconds. So I'll just go back to throwing up shall I? Finally an hour later (in which time I could have quite possibly in some instances died) a doctor finally rings us back for a telephone conversation. Sorry but a telephone conversation? Hardly an adequate diagnosis really when you also add in the factor that the doctor is extremely chauvinistic and as soon as he realises he talking to a teenage girl he has dismissed all possibility I could actually be ill. So after much instance and unnecessary bother, whilst I must re-stress I'm ill, I am finally allocated an appointment.

So after we've all managed to get over this massive pretence that I simply can't be ill due to the fact I'm a teenage girl and it can't be ignored any longer am I going to get told what's wrong? Am I heck! I'm told it could be one of several things so we'll have to wait for it to happen again before we come to any conclusions. So let me get this straight - I have to go through this again before you can help me? Though I am told that I could stay off dairy, just to be on the safe side. So without any guidance on what I should eat instead, I'm left floundering before I even get to breakfast. Porridge? Cereal? Toast? Yogurt? All contain dairy. By the time it gets to lunch I am majorly sick of this regime. No chocolate, cake, ice cream, milk, butter - in fact just about anything nice. By the evening I've already thrown in the towel and eaten numerous chocolate bars, cake, ice cream and had a glass of milk. And you know what I feel great. Not even the slightest bit icky. A week later on full dairy diet and I feel amazing still. What a great diagnosis then. In fact all I have constructively learnt from the whole experience is a new found respect for people who genuinely need to stay dairy free (or anything else for that matter). How do they do it?