the worst present ever

I wasn't really sure if Angela was that gullible, but I wondered what would happen if I attached the below to the end of a pre-xmas email.

"Which reminds me, did you want anything for xmas? I wasn't sure if you liked presents, maybe I'll just get you some chocolate or something, if you want, or some soapy things from the Body Shop, girls love that shit."

This was the reply:

"Please do NOT get me any random soapy things for xmas. I hate things like this. Get me a present only if you see something you think I'll actually use or eat (mmmm)".

Sucker!

Oli.

Best Christmas Present Ever

I say farewell to my fellow Chicagoans as I embark on my Christmas voyage this evening.

I am a little sad to go as Chicago at Christmas is a lovely thing. This morning the saxophone man at the train station was rocking out on "Walking in A Winter Wonderland", the weather was not too cold but just right with sun blazing over the city skyline, and everyone was wearing jeans to work. I say, Happy Holidays, indeed.

So on this lovely winter's day I'd just like to take a moment to reflect on hemorrhoids and giving. My friend Sean Higgins gave me the best Christmas present ever: he got hemorrhoids in my place. Most pregnant women are supposed to get them and I haven't yet in this oh-so-far-along 32nd of 40 weeks of pregnancy. Sean, however, developed an incredible one over the weekend for God-only-knows-what reason. It has since been removed, but this will not stop me from thanking Sean for carrying my burden for me, if even for only 2 days. What a pal, what a Christian. Merry Christmas!

To the British to whom I am flying, I look forward to a great week, if after reading the above you're not too grossed out and still want to hang out with me. Until soon,
~ Angela

For a full account of Sean's tribulations, see www.xanga.com/shweenhiggs

Nip/Tuck writers need not fear curse

What happens when a writer just can’t come up with something provocative and clever? Nip/Tuck happens.

Last night I sat through the 2-hour season finale of this program with my sister and brother-in-law. In my defense, I was knitting like a fiend. I went to Joanne Fabrics and made my first knitting purchase: beautiful multi-colored soft yarn to knit a cap and booties for Hannah Kim Seeley. I was a woman possessed and nothing could stop my knitting last night, not even Nip/Tuck….although it did interrupt it at times.

Anyway, let me just say that in its third season, this program has disintegrated into a goulash of gender, body and (less-interestingly) financially-confused Californians. At one point a surgeon was ruled out (temporarily) as the rapist-slasher known at The Carver who has been plaguing LA throughout the season because we found out he was born without a penis.

Dialogue (more or less) that ensued about his previous relationship with some woman:
Main character: No, we hate you for acting like a gigolo when you really had no dick, and for grabbing Kate’s ass.
Unfortunate man: I grabbed Kate’s ass so she would hate me and not get too close and find out I had no dick.

Wow.

In the end, this guy WAS the rapist-slasher and we found out he’d been using a strap-on all along. His motive in raping and slashing beauty queens and surgery addicts? To teach us all that “Beauty Is A Curse”. Damn.

Pure Indulgence

- My niece Marisa.
- Who doesn't like a picture of a cute kid? Your day is better now, isn't it?

comemos lomo y quesos

So, back in Barcelona. Liked it? Loved it. Felt like home. I enjoyed a comprehensive Barca experience, minus getting mugged and visiting the peep shows on the ramblas, with all the old peeps. Saw an exhibition of video art with timo, some funk at a jazz bar with Claire and Mike Mc, and had multiple drinks with the rest. I also visited Platja de Castelldefels which is mine and Angela's spiritual home. We spent time indulging ourselves here when we had just found out about the baby; swimming in the sea in the morning and evening and playing frisbee as the sun went down. In the evenings we stayed in a lovely hotel overlooking the beach, kindly paid for by my parents.

The picture shows Lawson and I enjoying a couple of bocadillos con lomo y queso, an old favourite, particularly of Ange and I who bonded over them during our brief but productive honeymoon period.

baby is born

Last monday ushered in a new era in the Seeley family with the birth of Hannah Kim, weighing 8lb 6oz. Hannah was born over two weeks late but was delivered perfectly formed and completely adorable.

Congratulations Alex and Catherine!

Alterna-Christmas

Baked 300 cookies yesterday in order to bribe family member to not hate me for being absent this Christmas Day.

Actually, I like giving people things but don't have much money nor do I like just buying something to give someone when it is isn't really perfect for them.

Lesson learned:
Cookies = spread Christmas joy - cause useless clutter in someone's home

Additionally, I did not rock out to tradition Christmas tunes during this bake-fest. Alone in my sister's kitchen (well, alone except for pounds of flour, butter and fresh-out-the-oven cookies) I baked my heart out to my playlist on random, vowing to myself at the beginning of the session that I would not skip any song my computer chose, but would let all songs have their fair play time at this oh-so-sacred time of year. The result was a bizarre melancholy mix of 70s pop from the Carpenters, sad old Wilco, new Dave Matthews Band (how did THAT get on my computer?!), depressing Air, and Indian pop from The Guru soundtrack (what the f---?!)...evidently I am depressed and demented and didn't know it. The few shining beams of joy were shed by Kanye West, Mos Def and some other black folks. It is truly a sad state of affairs when the poor and oppressed of society sing the "happy" songs on your playlist. All in all I have learned this Christmas that I have a depressing and f-ed up playlist that despite its girth is lacking in soooo many ways.

Lesson learned:
Having a fantastic "Recently Played" list is no consolation for having a massively warped overall list.

Merry Musical Chrsitmas,
~ Angela

reach for the lasers, safe as fuck!

When not cavorting with nurses at medical examinations I like to indulge in a little Toxic Dancehall. For all those who came down to Bristol on Saturday night for DJ Scotch Egg, Floorclearer and Parasite I would just like to say a big thanks for a great evening and please take a moment to enjoy this photo. Memorable events of the evening include the Horne sisters, between them, vomiting on the dancefloor and down the sofa in the chill-out room, meeting Sam’s new girlfriend, Laura, and having James make a lightening drive from Milford to Bristol at midnight so he could join us for this last ever Toxic Dancehall.

Following on from the nurses and pigtails thing. I’m not really sure about any scrawny British airport employees but I’m really turned on by the thought of pregnant women in pigtails at the moment, especially yankee girlfriend ones. See you soon gorgeous!

Revenge

As most people know, Oli's back in England for the time being having his genitals checked out by our Homeland Security officials abroad. Before you feel too sorry for him, read his account of the experience:

"There were basically loads of nurses wearing those fit nurse outfits that nurses wear... So, imagine me, looking cute (yes oh yes), headphones, black jacket, scarf, playing that 'oops where am I, I'm all lost but very confident anyway' thing I do sometimes and it worked wonders. They gave me hot chocolates, stole me muffins from the executives and gave me big smiles. A morning's work done. Then I went to H&M and bought some things I didn't need."

All I can say is I am totally going to wear my hair in pigtails when I go to England at Christmas and play it cute for every immigration official who helps little-'ol-lost-yankee me find my way through the big confusing Heathrow terminal. There's nothing like a desperate pregnant girl to turn on scrawny British airport employees.

~

Mama Drama

So I realized the other day that my mom and I really needed to get those baby/wedding shower invitations out.

For the British, a baby shower is a luncheon that is held in honor of an expectant couple that is attended by all one’s female relatives and friends (men are mercifully spared, except the dad-to-be) and to which each guest brings a gift for the baby, generally practical things like bottles, towels, blankies, etc. This way friends and family are helping out with all those financial strings attached to impending baby arrivals. A wedding shower is similar only the gifts are household things to help a new couple start their home up (e.g. dishes, cooking ware, appliances, etc.).

Anyway, I realized that if we were to have this joint wedding/baby shower on January 22 as planned, we needed to get our gift wish lists registered at some stores and then get those invites out. This led to my sister and I spending 4 hours in Babies ‘R’ Us and Target on Saturday using wireless scanner guns to zap items in the store that I wanted on our gift wish list so that our invitees would know what we wanted. This was fun for two hours and mind-bending in the second half.

I discovered new depths (or perhaps shallows) that I never knew I had. I was most preoccupied with realistic usage, meaning, would I actually use the things on my list or end up with an apartment full of you-know-what. Here, my sister, a mother of two, came in handy. I remained focused and realistic until we got to bedding. Dear god, Babies ‘R’ Us had some adorable bedding sets for the baby’s room. It took 10 minutes for me to decide between Farm Animals or Froggies and Duckies. I walked up and down the aisle comparing the two displays in a fervor that I think can only compare to a dirty old man trying to choose between the Olsen twins. In the end, Froggies and Duckies won for its softness and overall joviality. I hope that when it comes times to choose a university or life partner our child will not find it so difficult as I found this choice.

Meanwhile, two hours later over in Target, my sister and I started breaking down about the time I had to pick out kitchen gear. There are far too many types of doohickeys for preparing and serving food. My sister had remained impartial until this point, giving advice without passing judgment on my final choices. But alas, she MADE me add Corningware to my list. For those of you like me who could care less about such things, Corningware is a type of dish for baking and/or serving in, but it is also rather nice looking. I would have liked to have just gotten other plain dishes for cooking in the oven with, but my sister asked, “What will you serve guests in? How will you entertain? What will you serve me in when I visit?!” I thought the other dishes, which can go in the oven and come with covers for placing leftovers in the fridge, were fine. If it’s good enough to cook in, it’s good enough to serve from. But she wouldn’t have it and scanned in a Corningware set.
I have expressed that if anyone should buy this set for the shower, the first time my sister eats over, I will purposely leave the Corningware out on the counter, empty, and serve her from the plain cooking ware. Obviously Motherhood has not yet sapped all the puckish spite out of me.

Indeed

To answer Laura, the book I was reading was indeed A Very Long Engagement. I finished. I recommend it highly.

The conductors did not call my name the next day, by the way. Evidently they were too busy running the train or something. Some friends they turned out to be.....

~ Angela