Needs Vs Want

Me: Can I ask you a question? 

Wonder: Yeah, course. 

Me: Do you think £194 is too much to pay for a hair dryer? 

Housemate from next room: No!! / Wonder: What?! 

Me: Actually, it's in dollars. So it'd only be about £120... 

Wonder: .... You're kidding. What does the site say when you convert it to pounds? 

Me: I didn't say I was going to buy it! It's just...research. 

Wonder: You can't be serious. I've seen you walk half a mile to save 30p and now you want to splash out on a £200 hairdryer?!  

Housemate from next room: You get what you pay for!

Me: Like an investment? 

Wonder: I have a hairdryer! You can just use mine (We have already seen evidence of his friend's love of hair tools, so I guess this admission was inevitable. Didn't make it any less funny). 

Me: Well, does it have *reading from the site* 3 heat settings, a cool shot and tourmaline crystals? And ions? 

Wonder Thing: .....it blows hot hair like a hair dryer should -_- 

Me:  Ion deficiency is really bad. A hairdryer needs 'em! Ions are important!

Housemate from next room: Very important! 

Oh, looks like I got ions and iron confused. My bad.

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All Stereotypes come from Somewhere

Tea drinkers.

Biscuits and/or cake.

Jam and Jerusalem.

Horrible dental work.

The Queen on everything.

Polite and unwilling to cause confrontations

Extremely (if not overly) well spoken.

There are a lot of stereotypes about British people in the international community but the following conversation is only explicitly refers to one of them.

Can you guess which one it is?

I was on my way to the race track, in my sports gear and merrily swinging my drinks bottle. I think the Script was playing. It was a gorgeous day (or I wouldn't have been on my way to the race track).
 On my way down, I come across a gang group of girls on the walking path. I sighed, because they looked a bit...well. One of them approached me.

Girl: 'Scuse me, have you got any cigarettes on you?
Me: *sighs again* No, I'm afraid I don't.
Girl: You sure?
Me: I don't smoke.
Girl: 'Course you do, you've got yellow teeth!

...¬_¬'
At that, I started putting my ear phones back in and turned away from her.

Girl: Can I have a drink out of your bottle?
Me: O_O *Stonily* No.

In my defence, I like to think I took the high road.

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Hair Obsessed

Some of Wonder Thing's friends were up visiting. One of them is particularly hair obsessed and refuses to relinquish his obsession, despite constant mockery by the others.

On this particular occasion, he was commiserating the frizz that he could see on his hair.

Him: Agh, I should've used a hair dryer!
Me:...what?
Him: I washed my hair but I didn't use a dryer. Now look, it's all frizzy on the top. Look. Look.
Me: *points to her own head* I've got frizz too. I think [I'm not quite sure what frizz actually is, but John Frieda really doesn't seem to like it].
Him: Your hair is supposed to be frizzy. I can't take it. I'm definitely using my hair straighteners tomorrow.

Dude literally has 3 inches of hair and yet owns far more hair tools than I do.

Maybe we should get him a curling iron for his next birthday.....

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If you bake, you're a baker...

I lost my purse and was looking for it (as well as for some spare sympathy).

Me: *whining* Why can't I find iiiiiit? First I lost my debit card and now I've lost my entire purse! Why do I keep losing stuff?
House sister: Well, some people bake and are bakers. And some people lose things and are...
*Slowly realising where this conversation if going, I give her a stony glare*
House sister: *grins* Losers!

Well, at least I know now who not to turn to when I want a crumb of compassion...

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Twenty is Plenty - Week 2

£37.51.

I bought a lot of meat this week - minced beef, chicken fillets and some chicken drumsticks. Most of my financial blow out this week was directly connected to Valentine's Day, because I had a get together and provided all the food and drink. The other alternative I guess was getting everyone to chip in for Dominos, but I dislike the pressure this puts on people to give money that they don't have because everyone else is doing it.
Plus the waiting time is a pain.
So I cooked for 8 people on Tuesday, 2 people for 3 days and will be cooking for 3 people on Friday so I guess doing that all for around £40 is pretty decent.
Well, technically, I spent more like £55 but while I was running around like a headless chicken looking for buttermilk that was not there, the Wonder Thing acted like a ninja and paid for my shopping -___-

I actually said "Um. Hi. What happens to the bit where I pay for my food?"
The Wonder Thing: "I already paid."
Me: "Why????"

There were two reasons, he said, for paying: 1) Most of the meat I'd bought that weekend was for us. I don't usually tend to buy meat that often and definitely not in those numbers.
2) He had agreed to give me a Sainsburys voucher but had used it on his own shopping instead.

Me: "There is a massive difference between a £3 voucher and a £20 shop. But thank you. ^_^"

Anyway, I also grabbed some instant food (over the week, a hot chocolate, some delicious hand cut chips, a muffin and a pasty, arrrhhh!) which added up to just under a tenner's worth of damage.

On the bright side, I have a bit lot of food left over, so I'm at least mildly sorted for at least half another week.

So I'm still going to need to go shopping again this weekend...

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Claiming Collarbone and Shoulder Length - Aiming for Arm Pit

It dawned on me suddenly when I was chatting to my mum:

Mum: You know, I was surprised. I was so certain that [when you stopped relaxing] all your hair would fall out. But it's actually grown!
Me: Mmm, it's down to my armpit now.
Mum: [Instantly skeptical] Really?
*A Simple Thing pulls her hair down as proof and Mum laughs*
Mum: Me too, I can stretch my hair that far!

She couldn't, but that's not the point.

I have problems with efficiently stretching [read: I'm too impatient and busy to wait for it to dry properly and I never plan it right], and I'm guessing that unless I straighten my hair, it's never actually going to be seen for the length it actually is. So why do I bother claiming APL?

To be honest - I don't know.

Maybe my goals would be more realistic if I looked at them in the right context. For example, if one day I did twists and they brushed APL length, I'd fall over in pure joy. But I don't blow dry and or straighten my hair, so that's not my reality right now. There's something quite cool in the fact that only I (and you) know how long my hair is -  but then sometimes that means it doesn't feel as real or factual. I don't want to prove it to people for the sake of it, especially since I'm not doing this for them.

I'm doing this for me.

Although we know where my hair goes down to, for now, if anyone asks me then I'm claiming shoulder length in general...

and collarbone length when gently stretched.

Achievements that I'm all very proud of :)

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Sweet Monday

I took the braids out on Sunday, which makes it nine days.

The cornrows were looking a little wild and I was getting tired of the half style in general, so I took it out, using only my weird experimental grapeseed/Vatika/castor oil mix, because I hate wetting my hair.
It took me about 6 -7 hours of One Piece watching before I was done.

BANG! And the fro is released.

Then I washed my head that same night (I started taking it out in the afternoon, since I'd been playing netball all morning), conditioned with Tresemmé Naturals and then added my beloved Giovanni's and some aloe vera gel and the weird oil mix. I took the opportunity to do a search and destroy method, cutting out knots and split ends wherever they did pop up, which meant cutting up to an inch in some aresa.

The next day, which was Monday, the Faerie had to go to for an interview and Lady V and I were her morale boosting, joke cracking, doughnut purchasing escorts.

So I decided to make an effort with my hair and did a cinnabun [video tutorial here].

I loosely tied the ribbon around my head, and pulled it back to a comfortable position on my head, to make a puff a la Mwedzi. When I was happy with the position of the ribbon on my head, I tied it a little tighter and made it into a bow.

 Then I grabbed sections of hair in the puff bit at the back, loosely twisted them around themselves from the base (to make a cleaner look. If not, random pieces of hair at the base start doing their own thing and trying to go their own way and it looks hilarious) and then pinned the end of the section near the base of the section with a bobby pin.

The closer to the base and the further from the center of the puff section I pinned it, the higher that section of the cinnabun would be. The close to the centre of the puff and the further from the base, the lower that section would be

I hope that makes sense.

I doubt it does.

This helped me create a semi-uniform look on my cinnabun buns, since my hair is differing thickness and length all over..

Lady V: The middle looks like a daisy!
Faerie: It looks so touchable! And squishy!

I think I managed to efficiently carry out my morale boosting duties.

See, using black bobby pins means you can't see them! Yay! And ignore any sign of 'shine' - that's purely the flash and my desk light conspiring together.

And then I took it down and resorted to Pajama hair - less pins and waaaay easier to sleep on.

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Why Won't It Whip?

A couple of weeks ago, life had reached a time when I was getting into my third week of braids and The Wonder Thing had not had a hair cut for a  fair while.

Knowing how hair obsessed I am, every now and then he would initiate a frenzy of crazed hair shaking by declaring "I whip my hair!".

This would result in both of us flinging our heads about like absolute loons until I was exhausted or he claimed that his hair was longer than mine.

We are normal, I promise.

Well, eventually the time came when he couldn't take it any more and went to get his hair cut.

An hour later, I got a message from him that said "Whip my  - Ohhh, it's not doing it!"

Why does he look so happy? He's not doing it right!

It took me about 20 minutes to stop laughing.

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Rebel without a prospect

I was talking to the Rebel Sister the other day. She's currently at university in her first year, doing English Language and Creative Writing. I'd phoned her to see how she was, since she seemed to be fed up with university the last time I'd spoken to her.

Rebel: I don't know why I even took English Language! I was always better at English Literature.
Me: Mmm.
Rebel: My course is stupidly hard and I have so many assignments and people who've done my course before never seem to be getting any jobs.
Me: Mmm.
Rebel: - It's like, most of the people I know who've done my course are just doing crappy jobs and not writing like they want to. And they're really good!
Me: Mmmm.
Rebel:...Well? Don't you have any sagely advice for me?
Me: Err....
Rebel: You're my big sister, you always have something to say.
Me: Well, what do you want to do?
Rebel: I want to be a writer!
Me: Well, you need to work towards it -
Rebel: *groans*
Me: What? It's true! You could get an ordinary job and write independently. Write at home in your spare time and send it off to publishers by yourself and hope you get lucky I guess.
Rebel: But there are no jobs anywhere! Nobody's taking on any interns in the big publishing companies.
Me:  I wasn't talking about writing jobs, but whatever...)
Rebel: I can't use my degree for anything other than writing.
Me: Your degree doesn't need to be specific to your job. You just need a degree to get a good job.
Rebel: *groans again*
Me: *sigh* Well, why don't you aim a little lower? And then work your way up. Like, have you looked at any local newspapers?
Rebel: *groans again* There aren't any good newspapers around here.
Me: They don't need to be good, just willing to take you on.
Rebel: Yeah, well, no offence, but I don't really like those kind of newspapers, you know? The gossiping and stuff - yeah, I'm not into all that fluffy stuff. I want something serious.
Me...

Do you ever feel sometimes you're talking to someone...and they're hearing a COMPLETELY different conversation?
The problem is that the Rebel Sister has always been brilliant at whatever she applies herself to, and sometimes manages to get by on pure charisma alone, whereas I'm not as quick on the uptake and have had to constantly work my way up to achieve a mediocre standard.

Plus, the way everyone is talking about graduates and jobs makes me think that in a few years my poor mama will have more to worry about the fact the Rebel Sister has shaved off half her hair.

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"No Such Thing as a Nigerian Vegetarian!"

Being pescetarian for 40 days was not incredibly difficult overall.

However, there were a few times when it got a bit sticky:


1. Eating out: 

Especially if it's a place you go regularly and order the same thing off every time. Having to re-assess a menu you haven't read in about 8 months is creepy.

It's even worse if the menu's limited. As someone who isn't fond of raw cheese (bleeeeeeeuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrghhhhhhh), when the vegetarian section consists of Cheese, Cheese and Pickle or Cheese and Mature Cheese sandwiches, I wasn't exactly spoilt for choice.

Thus meant I ended up eating chips a lot when I was in a rush and wanted something inexpensive, quick and meat free.

2. Eating socially:

Usually, every Friday night, Lady V, the Faerie and I get together at each other's houses, and let them wait on us hand and food.

And the Faerie really likes meat, but felt guilty about it even being in the kitchen with me, so it kind of felt like I was depriving them as well.

Though being in the student bubble meant I'd forgotten when Lent had started and I hadn't sorted out my shopping list/timetable properly, so ending up cooking a meal for them that I couldn't eat, because it had meatballs in it.

Apparently, it was delicious.

It's okay, I'm not bitter *sniff*

What-EVAH!

3. Coming home: 

Cooking for myself gives me a lot more freedom and ease when it comes to dodging meat and getting inventive in the kitchen, whilst still getting the protein and iron I needed from food.

But when I'm at home?

In a Nigerian home?

Dodging meat is near impossible.

Here's a conversation snippet from when I was fourteen:

Mum: Why aren't you eating any stew?

Me: It's got meat in it, Mummy.

Mum: So? What's wrong with meat?

Me: *In an appropriately dramatic manner* Mummy, I'm a vegetarian!

(Pregnant pause)
Mummy: There's no such thing as a Nigerian vegetarian. Hurry up, eat it quickly!

And then she sat there and made sure I ate it.

Even though I'd been vegetarian for nearly 6 months by then, that was the end of that.

Basically, apart from chicken, there's no other form of protein in my house (apart from baked beans, which isn't exactly the most nutritious of options with all the sugar and salt). As well as that, I think my blood iron levels are a bit low, because I've been feeling really tired since I've gotten home.

Plus my mum puts chicken stock in EVERYTHING. Lots of Nigerian dishes would actually be great vegetarian/vegan meals if there wasn't so much chicken stock in it.

So I've had to compromise - even though I wasn't eating any meat by-products either, to avoid starving to death, or eating too much pre-packaged food, or seriously offending my mum, I've been eating the jellof rice.

Even though I saw my mum put chicken stock in it.

Even though I pleaded with her not to.

Mum: If I don't put chicken stock in it, it won't have any flavour. It's not just you eating out of this pot, you know.
Think of your brother and sisters.

So I'm not sure if this Lent was a fail or not.

Also, the weather's been good, so everyone is my house is like "Fried Chicken! Barbequed chicken! Stewed chicken!"

With the smell permeating through the house on what feels like a continuous basis, I've been like this for the past two weeks:

But all in all, I've enjoyed the experience! I got some really good meals out of it (like an incredibly delicious fried mushroom quesadilla that the Wonder Thing whipped up for me - yum!) and I've learnt how to be more inventive. 

Another fact was that my meals became really vegetable orientated when I skipped out on meat, so I guess in a way they got healthier. 

I changed my way of cooking - there was less meat, and more baking and roasting and general usage of the oven, and things went a bit slower, so I planned it ahead.

Planning food ahead meant that I got really excited about it - and I generally get excited about food, but this was something else.

When you're in a seminar and suddenly remember you're making butternut squash soup for dinner that evening and start rubbing your hands together and squeaking in glee, earning you the concerned and wary glances from your classmate...well, if that's not excitement, I don't know what is. 

Well, maybe a little bit of greed, maybe. But it's excited greed, so it still counts.

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Buy Pass

I never thought *not* spending money would be difficult, but here I am, having trouble with my buying ban.
I saw some Cassia in the health food store that I've been going to for the past two years.

Sod's Law says I would notice it when I'm not allowed to buy anything any more.

The Faerie and I were in Home Bargains (yes, Home Bargains of the cheap variety. I love it for various, naan-bread related reasons).

Me: Is that Original Source Almond and Coconut Conditioner? I - I haven't been able to find it anywhere!
The Faerie: I thought you were on a buying ban
Me: But - but it's only a pound! IT'S ONLY ONE POUND!!
The Faerie: Yes, but you're not supposed to be buying hair products.

I can't hear her, since I'm tenderly rubbing my face up against the bottle and near drooling by this point.

Me: *dreamily* Apparently, it's full of deliciously scrummy proteins.
The Faerie: *steely-eyed*....If you don't step away from that bottle, I will kick you.

She does Tae Kwon Do and Mixed Martial Arts.

And I am a pacifist, so the odds are weighed heavily in her favour.

Sometimes, having your friends support you seriously stinks.

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Cappin' Lazy Twists - and why I'm kind of a blonde

I was planning for this to be a week long protective style, but I got bored of it when I washed my hair.

It's basically fat twists, wrapped in my satin scarf, under a hat.

You see where boredom may have it's chance to undo my most noblest of efforts?

You can also see how much my colour has faded.

I wanted to go to the place I'd had my original colour done, so I phoned the salon today to make sure someone was in, because it's a bank holiday and a 45 minute walk.

Person on the phone: Hello?

Me: Oh thank goodness! You're open!

Person on the phone: No, we're not open.

Me: Huh? Then why - what? Are you joking?

Person on the phone: No. I'm serious *chuckles* We're definitely not open.

O.o

I wasn't going to risk walking in the freezing cold for nearly an hour just for them not to be open. So I guess I'm going back to uni with no colour in. I'm thinking a D.I.Y is imminent, and in this case, I'm not bothered about using natural products like Herbatint which wash out in 2 seconds flat.
Purple isn't the most natural hair colour anyway.

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Ginger-ism

One of The Bro's friend's was over today.

There is usually one of them in our abode at any given time.

So, I walk into the room, feeling my twist out, when he looks at me and, in mild disgust, he says
"I hear you're dating a ginger."

The Bro explained: "He hates ginger people."

I looked at the Bro's friend, whom The Bro and the other friends refer to as 'The Ginge'.

Uh.

I didn't really know what to say to that.

Like, should I have joked "Wow, looking in the mirror in the mornings must be a real nightmare"?!

WHAT DO YOU SAY TO THAT?!

(For my lovely international audience, who may not be aware, the British have a habit of calling red headed people 'ginger.' I don't know why - ginger is golden coloured, isn't it?)

So I just scratched my head and said "Uhhhhhhhh..........okay?"

I think that maybe he was taking Tim Minchin's advice to a bit of an extreme.

Simply Confused,

A.s.t.

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Chat Up Lines

Every now and then, I like to attempt to chat up The Wonder Thing.

You know, to make him feel loved and wanted.

Though most of the time, he tends to laugh at my most noble of efforts.

The other day, I looked at him and rubbed his T-shirt between my thumb and finger.

I said to him, "Do you know what material this is?"

At this point, he cringed away from me protectively.

He anxiously replied, "Wha - what? No, what material is it? Are you allergic to it?"

Yeah. So. I has allergies.

I smiled angelically up at him. "Nooooo, I'm not allergic to it. I was just thinking...that this material? This is boyfriend material."

He looked at me.

He laughed and gave me a massive hug.

I'm not quite sure if I pulled or not.

I think I did?

Potentially Rejected,

A.s.t.

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Conversation Snippet: The Buub

The Wonder Thing: I heard The Buub (a term for Michael Bublé) was on X Factor last night and I missed it. Can I watch it on your computer?

Me: *nonchantly* Yeah, sure, no problem.

X Factor Narrator: ...and pop star Michael Bublé..!

The Wonder Thing: He's not a pop star. He's a pop sensation.

Me: ¬_¬

Multi-platinum selling artist?

More than 25 million worldwide album sales?

I can't even compete!

To see his performance, click here (those in the U.K can catch it on ITV replay).

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