CO-SHANG AND WELCOME TO GEEK PIE!
My name is Caroline, this is my blog and it's a pleasure to meet you.
I live with my sister on the outskirts of swinging London town, in a flat we're constantly one late rent payment away from losing.
At the moment I'm a journalist in name only (check out my sexy business cards) and I'm desperately searching for my first job in journalism.
That's pretty much what this shebang is all about. Shall we see what I've been up to today then?
Feel free to sign up and talk about anything either on the tag board below. It's usually occupied by weirdos, headfucks and best avoided around midnight
I doubt it's been noticed, but I've not written on here for quite a while. Truth is, I'm not really sure what to write here anymore. It started off as a blog about trying to get a job in publishing. Now I have one. End of story.
We actually had a plans (we wrote notes too) for what our next two Geek Pie adventures were going to be, but now I'm working I haven't got the time to execute them properly. If I get the sack or we find some way of getting them done, they'll be up and I'll let you all know.
So, for now, I'm going to leave it here. For updates and general random rubbish about my life, check out www.blog.myspace.com/carolinekicksass.
Caroline and Breezy
Posted at 11:03 am by Carrot
If you want a phrase to say to your parents that will drain all the colour from their cheeks, try this one for size: "Mum. I want a little brother!"
My Dad shook his head and stormed out the room, muttering the words "No more. I've told her five was too many in the first place!" My Mum carried on with her washing up pretending that she hadn't heard me. So I repeated it again. She looked me square on in the eyes.
"Look, Caroline. When you get to a certain age, it's not really possible for ladies to have any more children, as much as they would like to... and....."
"What?! I don't want one off you. I'm going to get one off the internet." What colour may have remained had completely deserted her cheeks now. Her reaction told me all I needed to know. She wanted more details.
I told her about mine and Breezy's increasingly fraught relationship and how I feel I'd missed out on experiencing proper big sisterhood because of Breezy's complete inability to take the help I give her. She never listens to me and a lot of the time I feel like she's my big sister and that's not right.
My Mum was dismayed and started talking about how I can't just pluck someone off the internet and make them a member of my family. They could be anybody and it's just not safe.
I nodded. I understood exactly what she was saying. Well, more what she wasn't saying. It was a stupid idea to just pluck someone off the internet, I needed a vetting procedure. You know, to ensure that the person I was getting was up to the job and fit to carry the Donnelly name.
So far I've drawn up a list of what I'm looking for. It states that:
- They must be a boy. In the interests of equal opportunities I may also consider girls with short hair and very tiny boobs too.
- Applicants must be younger than me. Although, those older and shorter than me may also be considered.
- They must be at least 18. I want a brother and a drinking partner.
- They must take at least one piece of my advice and follow it to the letter each day.
- Whenver they are having any type of crisis, I must be the first person they talk to. Not their Mums, not the Ghostbusters and not their friends. From now on, I'm the first person they call.
- Even if they don't fancy them, they must ogle my friends. It's what a daily diet of Hollyoaks and Neighbours has led me to believe about the conduct of little 'uns.
- They must promise to do at least one thing a week with me.
That's all I can come up with for now, but if you think you're up to the challenge. Let's have it. I've also decided that I want applicants to about 100 words saying why I should choose them.
Well, what are you waiting for. Get writing. I'll be waiting here.
Posted at 10:42 am by Carrot
A little bother and then a little brother
Since I started this whole working for a living to buy my daily bread, I've barely seen Breezy. I leave before she gets up in the morning and she's out by the time I get in. I would say life has been great as a result, but I do miss her.
She wears far too much pink and sometimes she doesn't always appreciate my opinion, the words "I can't believe you're still talking" being a regular reply to lots of things I talk to her about.
I said to her yesterday, during one of the brief snatches of time I could grab with her, that we should do something over the weekend together, but she shot me down. She's gone band rehearsals to go to and songs to write with her group. She doesn't have anytime for me anymore.
I offered to help her out. I've got a music GCSE (grade B) and have been highly commended on my song writing skills in the past. There was the donkey song I wrote on Studentbum that generated a lot of buzz in the industry and the Christmas carol I wrote for my nephew about a lonely turkey. I'm putting that on iTunes.
She looked like she might take me up on my offer, but then I asked for my contribution to be credited in the sleeve notes to the "Hitmaker" and told her that that was my nickname because every song I've ever had a hand in writing has been a hit.
She looked a bit like she didn't believe me, so I ushered her over to the Casio keyboard in the cupboard under our stairs and played her my chord. The "missing hit maker", so called because if it's missing from a song, you'll be missing a hit. I said that's what I can bring to this project. She looked me up and down, told me off for being ridiculous and stormed out the front door.
"Pah! Whatever!" I thought "I don't need her!"
Then I realised that I don't. I really don't. I barely see her anyway and it seems to suit her, I'll just have to do something so that this situation suits me too. But what?
I sat and pondered this over a cup of coffee. I figured out that what I wanted was someone to replace Breezy, but not like her in the slightest. Someone who when I say, "Lets spend some time together!" doesn't run away. Someone that when I throw my arms up in the air and announce that we should go to the pub, doesn't say no and makes me sit down again in my seat and put my finger on my lips.
I want someone who is nothing like Breezy and acts like a younger sibling should. Someone I can mould and inspire and will turn to me, their big sis, for advice and guidance. Breezy never takes my advice and the only thing I inspire in her is hatred.
I thought little sisters were supposed to hanker after being allowed to hang out with their older siblings. If I invite Breezy out with me and my friends, she usually says something about wanting to go out and have a good time.
No, having a little sister had not worked out for me at all. What I need is a little brother!
It'll be great. I'll take him out for beer and I'll let him hang around me and my girl mates. He'd love it. We'd spend weekends together just chatting and shit. I've got a Playstation and we could have tournaments on it and then he'd drag me out to watch the football. Then when he's having a crisis he'd come to me and hang on every word I say.
He'd try and make me listen to Blink 182 and I'd try and shove some Morrisey down his earholes instead. I'd make him watch the soaps and he would try and get me to appreciate Top Gear and Brainiac. We could learn so much from each other.
A little brother. That's what I need. But how do I go about getting one? Hmmmm.
Posted at 08:47 am by Carrot
Is it sad that I actually inwardly "woopdy wooped!" today when I heard someone say: "So if you just show Caroline to her desk..." I don't think it was ever my dream to get an office job, but it was my dream to be a journalist and now I am one (with more than just business cards saying so) with my own workstation and an iMac.
Despite my reservations, it did go well today. Well, apart from the bit where my boss asked me what I'd been doing with myself since I went there to temp and all I could think to mention was skipping around with my Spongebob balloon at Ruislip Lido and cavorting round acting like a Desperate Housewife. I didn't mention that of course.
I wrote a news story, proof read lots of stuff and subbed a piece that I think must have been written by someone who'd look like they'd just clasped a pencil between their butt cheeks and waggled it in the general direction of a keyboard and hoped that a nice little news story would magic itself in to life. It hadn't.
They took me out to lunch and made me feel really welcome. My only problem with it is the journey, but then I've moaned about that before, but also the fact that I didn't really feel like I had enough to do today.
I kept asking for stuff to do, but my boss has stuff to be doing too. But, I think once I've been there a little bit longer I'll be able to just know what needs to be done and get on with it. Also, other people will know that I'm there to be used (and abused) too and so they won't shy from givng me things to do too.
Posted at 12:21 pm by Carrot
Spongebob: the final moments
At times like this, words are not enough. Below are the photos showing Spongebob's final moments with us. The end came quickly and we like to think he suffered no pain, although I did see Breezy club him with a toilet roll moments before his demise.
Propped up by pillows and smiling through the pain
Breezy reads him his last rites
Me and Spongey B talking about the good times
And then he was gone...
At times like these, it's important to feel that you are not alone and we know that Spongey B touched many lives while he was with us. With this in mind, please feel free to leave any messages of condolance in the box below.
Donations would be accepted gratefully too. The balloon man is back in Uxbridge on Friday. I need a replacement.
Posted at 10:06 am by Carrot
Spongebob's train ride to death
Getting on that train turned out to be one of the best parts of our day. For some unknown reason, it made me and Breezy get extremely hyperactive, but conversely made the boys want to sleep.
Also, a troop of Brownies got on and Zack (he's a Beaver) started to get a bit arsey. He hates girls at the best of times, but for some reason their yellow uniforms and their general perkiness made him even angrier than usual.
This is Zack telling me off for singing the, "Zack and some Brownies sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" song
I don't think I helped matters much either. I kept asking him if he was in love with one of the Brownies and about when they were going to get married. This then led to a Mallrats style proclaimation from him that he doesn't love girls, he only loves boys. This was certainly a closet I hadn't envisaged opening for a good 10 years yet, so once he said that, I decided to let sleeping dogs (and their sexuality) lie.
Well, I was planning to, but then I remembered how annoyed he gets when his aunty showers him with affection in front of other kids his own age.
Don't let the face fool you. The kid loves me and my over enthusiastic public displays of affection
After I'd annoyed my nephew to the point that he threatened to jump from a moving train (it was going about 3mph), I realised that my job there was clearly done and we got to taking some more pictures.
Spongebob was even more excited about riding the train, than he was just waiting in line for it
We were so happy together
And this happiness rubbed off on so many others too
In no time (well, after about 10 minutes worth of it) we pulled up on the otherside of the Lido, conveiniently very close to where we had parked our car. As we were checking we'd got everything we boarded the train with (handbags, two kids and a helium filled balloon), Zack said something that shook me to my very core.
"Look Carrot, Spongebob has gone down lots!"
I looked at Breezy and she looked back at me like she always does, with a flicker of disgust mixed with an equal portion of despair.
"Breezy. We've got to get back home. I don't think Spongey B is going to last much longer."
And it was with that, we jumped in the car and drove home and towards Spongebob's final moments.
Posted at 02:12 am by Carrot
Spongebob lets off some steam (train)
I thnk it was Spongebob's intention to make it through our little period of private time together, before giving in and letting death takes it's course. This is, as after our little period of reflection, he seemed to start losing air at a tremendous rate. I think the windy conditions, the fact that we had been manhandling him all afternoon and the raveages of old age had started to take their toll.
We were going to go home and put him to bed, but then we realised we still had one more thing to do. The Ruislip Lido Model Train Ride.
It is, to be fair, the only thing of real note to do at the Lido and saying you went there, but didn't go on it does provoke controversy in these parts. It's a bit like saying that you went to Buckingham Palace and didn't see the Queen. Or something.
I bought our tickets and we waited in line for the train to arrive. Queues are something that make me and Breezy go a little bit stir crazy and before long we started off on one of our little bitch fights. It doesn't mean anything, it's just what we do to pass the time.
Spongebob was so excited about going on the train. I think it's the most excited I'd ever seen him
This is the kind of stuff he was always doing to keep us entertained. Life was never dull with Spongebob around
It usually starts off with her saying that she hates me, because I'm stupid all the time. I then usually reply with some chaste remarks about keeping her mouth shut and her ankles covered (they're the widest part of her. All her extra weight goes straight to them). She'll say I'm ridiculous and I tell her that so is her face. It doesn't ever get anymore highbrow than that.
While this was going on, It has to be said that my nephews were very well behaved, the youngest especially --although he may have been in the throes of post-traumatic stress. You see, he'd taken off his shoes to play in the sand. Breezy sat him down on the floor to put them back on again. As she was doing so, a small dog ran over and started to lick his face.
The poor boy only has little legs and he had a massive coat on, rendering him unable to get to his feet. Once the dog has gone, he didn't say a word for most of the remainder of the afternoon.
The other one, Zack, I think had been stunned into silence after I answered his question about why we were doing stupid things all day. I told him we had to. Spongebob will be dead tomorrow. After that we got barely a peep out of him, although he did agree to pose for more of my pictures in the queue.
Posted at 01:10 am by Carrot
Spongey and Caroline alone at last
Spongebob and I took a well earned break and sat on the fake seafront, reflecting on our week together and -- to quote any reality TV contestant worth their weight in Heat magazine interview commisions-- it was time for me to concede that we had been on a great journey and I had learnt lots about myself.
Now after writing that paragraph, I've been sitting here racking my brains for something I might have learnt from this whole experience. If I'm honest I can't think of anything really.
What I do know is that I have enjoyed having him around, as he has provided me with a one way ticket to ridiculousness, my favourite destination when life and its trials all start to get a bit much.
It's a diversionary tactic I've always relied on, allowing me to ignore any problems and just get on with having fun. For instance, when I was little and I used to get taken to the dentist. If I was having treatment done, I was always a little nervous. One day when I was there to have my one and only (I'm quite proud of that) filling put in, the thought of the injections and shit was starting to make me panic.
As he lowered the chair back, I suddenly started imagining what would happen if the chair continued to go down. I could backwards roll off it, out the door and away to freedom. I started to take notice of the dental nurse as the dentist told her things like "Upper left lateral incisor partially erupted" and she wrote them down. I started to imagine that although she was nodding and taking notes, that really she was writing down something like, "What the fuck is the big drill man chatting about?"
Within no time, the consultation would be over and I would be unaware that my mouth was now numb and that I had anything done to me.
This is the kind of shit we were always doing together. Look how happy I am
But it wasn't just my life he bought a lot of happiness to though
This was the exact moment I realised I didn't want our fun to ever end
As we sat on the beach, I sat there and thought about how great Spongebob had been for helping me with this, this week.
Posted at 02:27 am by Carrot
By the time we'd driven to Ruislip Lido, the mood in the car had taken a slightly more sober tone. The car journey making both my nephews sleepy and less fracious.
The nephew who had been sporting the Speedo's when we were at his house had started complaining of being cold and wanting to put his clothes back on. This was a result as I had no intention taking him anywhere without, at least, a shirt on.
The other suffers motion sickness and --thanks to a bit of well timed rally driving by Breezy-- he was a lovely shade of green by the time we got to the car park. I asked him if he still wanted an ice cream and I took the fact he started gagging as an indication that he might want some more time to think about it.
We got the kids out, I tied Spongebob to my wrist and we set about walking down to the Lido. When we got there, you could tell by the looks on the kid's faces that they knew this wasn't the seaside.
It might have sand, but when you see a Yorkshire terrier legging it down and taking a crap next to some poor child's sand castle, it doesn't really make you want to get down and start digging holes yourself. Zack, the older of the two, turned to me and said: "I don't really like digging holes where dogs are pooing" The boy has his way of doing things and who are we to argue with his judgement.
There is also water down there, but ever since I can remember, you're not been allowed to paddle in it. I'm not sure why, but I remember when I was little hearing stories about waste being dumped in it and a little boy growing a third leg after having a swim in it. They might have just been scare stories, concocted by my parents to make sure I stayed in dry land, but it's not something I felt willing to risk anyway. Not even with someone elses kids.
So, we set about giving Spongebob the best time we could. He seemed quite taken with the adventure playground and so we spent a lot of time there, playing pirates and spinning on the roundabout until we felt sick.
This is easily my favourite picture of the whole day
Spongebob had us all in stitches, especially with his joke about the milkman, the vicar. some page three totty and a terrible misunderstanding
Spongebob took Breezy aside to try and bury the hatchet with her. But she was having none of it. She hated that balloon and was counting down the minutes until his demise
Spongebob and me were all tired out after all that playing, but we both agreed we'd had an excellent time
After a while my nephews tired of having Spongebob and me around cramping their style. It didn't matter though, we were all tired out and went and sat on the sand (avoiding the dog turds) to relax and reflect on our week together.
Posted at 01:11 am by Carrot
By the time we got to my brother's house to collect the kids, it turned out my Mum had already phoned ahead to say we were on our way. Thing is, if you want to keep kids under control, I'm of the opinion that you should never give them any advance warning at all. Otherwise they get too much time to mull over where they're going and whip themselves up into a frenzy.
It's why teenage preganancy rates are so high in this country. Kids are told around the age of 11 that one day (when they're 16) they might be able to have sex. This gives them a good 4-5 years to sit around twiddling your thumbs thinking about it. Then when it's time, precautions go out the window and it's all about just getting to jump someone's bones.
It's a theory I have give much consideration over the years and I'm of the thinking that if we only told the kids on the eve of the 16th birthday, sexual transmitted disease rates and the number of girls getting pregnant now would be nowhere near as high.
Hmmm, this has gone slightly off topic, but nevermind.
Basically the problem was that my Mum had told my brother to tell his sons that we were taking them to the beach. This was a massive overstatement anyway; we were only taking them to Ruislip Lido. Also this meant that by the time it came to collect them, we were greeted by a scene that looked like someone had got a big dollop madness and set it off on a riot.
The kids were going crazy. The youngest one was running round with swimming trunks on, a bucket on his head and hitting anything that came in his way with a spade. The other one was marching around demanding that we get ice creams and fizzy drinks. Because that's what you do at the seaside.
We decided to just try and get them into the car as quickly as possible. That way the sooner we could get them to the Lido and shatter there dreams about going to the seaside.
Heartbreak. It's the best way to sober people up.
Posted at 08:21 pm by Carrot