Word For Wednesday (W4W) #70


IMG_3026

Play along here!

This week’s word is:

Swansonism

I am a massive fan of the American sitcom Parks and Recreation. I look forward to watching it every week and it never fails to make me howl with laughter.

I think it is pretty special insofar as every character is enjoyable for their own reasons. I completely identify with  Amy Poehler’s character, Leslie Knope. I have a massive crush on the hapless Andy, adorkably played by the very sexy Chris Pratt. I feel genuine pity for poor Jerry/Larry/Gary, the office object of scorn and ridicule with a heart of gold. My teenage crush Rob Lowe displays amazingly good comedic acting skills as the insanely positive Chris and Aubrey Plaza makes the OH’s heart beat a little faster with every episode.

But, arguably, the show stealer is the Parks and Rec Director, man’s man, Ron Swanson, and he has inspired my W4W this week.

Swanson, played to perfection by the pheromone-oozing, hunk of masculine testosterone that is Nick Offerman, is a die hard Libertarian who, despite working at City Hall, despises government and everything it stands for. Gruff and intimidating on the outside, with a menacing glare unmatched by even a Silverback gorilla, he is actually a big softie inside and always goes the extra mile to help people he cares about, (despite insisting he doesn’t care at all). One of my very favourite things is when Ron gets excited about something and his hard stare breaks into an impish expression of childlike delight as what can only be described as a girlish giggle escapes his mouth.

Ron has a very strict code by which he lives his life – hunt, kill and eat meat, stay firmly private and off-grid, approach any non-meat or non-breakfast foodstuff with suspicion, drink whiskey, make epic love, refuse to make close friendships and ‘be a man’.

He invariably gets some of the best lines in the show and a search on Google will reward you with a plethora of memes that will make anyone laugh – I call them Swansonisms. Nuggets of wisdom from the man himself.

Watch and Enjoy!

Ciao!

💋

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

All rights reserved.

 

Things I would love to be but I’m not…


Musical

I love music. I love dancing. I love to sing.

I am no Adele, but I can hold a note, in so far as I haven’t yet caused the OH to deliberately smash the car into a wall whilst driving to escape my singing along to Spotify.

I went to a secondary school that prided itself on its choir and musicality. I remember sitting through musicianship class completely bewildered, as my fellow students seemed to just naturally grasp the difference between a crochet and a quaver and effortlessly read sheet music. I never learned to play any instrument, not counting the obligatory “The Gypsy Rover” on the tin whistle that all Irish primary school children were forced to learn.

To this day I would love to play guitar but my lack of musical confidence inhibits me. I don’t think I have the ‘ear’ for it. How would I know if I am in tune or not? My brother in law tried to teach me a basic chord on his acoustic but my tiny hands couldn’t span the neck. Maybe I need a child size one?

My other dream is to get proper singing lessons, learn how to control my breath and all that jazz. I actually contacted an instructor who told me her timetable was full. A silly part of me felt rejected, as if she could somehow sense I would be a hopeless student and I never followed up on it.

So, my singing stays in the kitchen, (sorry neighbours!), car, (sorry OH!), and shower, which provides marvelous acoustics!

Don’t expect to see me headlining at Wembly any day soon.

Graceful

I am, and have always been, that girl with the messy hair. I can spend time, money and effort perfecting my hair and still look as if I had just been dragged through a bush backwards. I see other women who look stylish, put together, groomed and grown up and then there’s me… the awkward tomboy, scruffy little sister with the smudged mascara and flyaway hair.

It is one reason I dress as I do, mainly in jeans, tee-shirts and converse sneakers. If I try to dress like a grown-ass woman I feel and look ridiculous, like a little girl trying on her mom’s clothes and heels. I am naturally clumsy. I can fall over my own foot, walk into walls and trip on my own shadow, so walking in heels would fall under the pedestrian equivalent of drunk driving. I would be a danger to myself and others.

Patient

If I am teaching something I can have endless patience. I enjoy the challenge of finding ways to make a subject make sense to a person. I love helping someone get to that place where the idea clicks. That is fun in my opinion.

But if it comes to waiting for a person to arrive or a thing or start, I am the worst! I value punctuality and consider it rude to be late or to faff about wasting time when you have somewhere to be. The OH is very guilty of this. We agree to leave the house, I put on my shoes and coat and stand by the door while he, taking his sweet time, mooches around finding his wallet, keys etc, then announces he needs to fix his hair and disappears upstairs, leaving me ready to go at the door. Usually, a good 10 minutes will pass before we actually leave the house. I never learn. I always get ready and wait. It is an endless, hopeless cycle.

(He insists it is never 10 minutes. He says 30 seconds. A bit like cock size in reverse right?)

Weirdly, I can wait in line, even if someone cuts in front of me, with perfect Zenlike calm…

Assertive

When it comes to standing up for other people I will do so with ferocious passion. When it comes to standing up for me… I crawl away like a timid mouse, terrified of causing a scene or creating a confrontation.

I am not sure where this comes from. Maybe it is a reflection of my sense of self worth, maybe I don’t feel I am worth standing up for. I tend to say nothing, to put up with being put down.

It is not good, I know this. I know I should defend myself as much as I would a friend or loved one. This is something I will continue to work on.

A good sleeper

I have never been a good sleeper. My sister can fall asleep any time, anywhere and I envy her.

I am Princess and the Pea level fussy… I require total darkness, total silence, the ‘just right’ temperature, blah blah blah. I have an incredibly expensive, NASA style mattress which I adore; it is like lying on a bed of clouds. I only use high thread count Egyptian cotton bedding. I have blackout blinds and ear plugs, (a futile attempt to drown out his snoring). I have tried different bedtimes, hot milk, relaxation exercises, herbal remedies.

Sleep evades me. Sleep is my enemy. The bags under my eyes have bags. I have resigned myself to a life of sleepless nights, curled on the sofa under a blanket, watching strange nighttime TV. Such is life…

A flirt

I would love to be a… wait… exactly who the fuck am I trying to kid here?

I popped out of my mother with a shimmy and winked at the OBGYN.

I flirt with my own reflection.

I flirt with men, women, babies, dogs… I am powerless to resist the urge to flirt.

It’s fun. It makes everyone feel good.

Hey, how you doin??????

Ciao!

💋

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

All rights reserved.

Word For Wednesday (W4W) #45


IMG_3026

Play along here!

This week’s word is…

Dentophobia

I used to be very nervous about going to the dentist. I think it was because, as a child I had some very bad habits – drinking undiluted Ribena, eating jam straight from the jar with a spoon – and needed more fillings than the average kid. Add to this the fact that my dentist was an older gentleman with massive gold teeth and the hairiest nostrils known to humankind, who, while administering the anaesthetic injection, pretended to inject and numb his own finger EVERY SINGLE TIME, and it starts to piece together maybe.

As a result, once I was no longer under the care of my parents I made a point of only seeing a dentist if I was in agony. This, of course, was a very silly strategy because, as we all know, prevention really is better than cure.

Fast forward to about 10 years ago when my dentist informed me that I needed a root canal, which had to be done over the course of three hours, followed by the fitting of a crown, all carried out by a specialist that had to be brought in to my local surgery. I was not best pleased. She told me the only alternative was to lose the tooth, which basically sealed the deal.

The OH knew I was nervous, (read terrified), and bought me my first iPod, loaded with all my favourite music to distract me during the procedure. Surprising myself more than anyone, I sailed through it! I found the experience strangely calming, settling, tranquil.

The specialist told me afterwards that she had never in her career had a patient remain so still and calm during a root canal. I seemed to have turned a corner!

A few years ago I was told that my wisdom tooth would have to be removed. It was growing at such an angle that meant the surgery to remove it carried a real risk of permanent facial paralysis. Once again, you can imagine I was less than happy to hear this. Armed again with my iPod, off to another specialist I trotted. The worst part of the procedure was how much he had to stretch my jaw to get at the offending tooth, he split my lip and left me looking as if I had gone a round with Mike Tyson. But even the squeal of the drill didn’t bother me this time. I didn’t even use the iPod. And my face moves as much as it ever did!

I had a dental checkup appointment this morning, (yes, I am a good girl these days and go regularly), as well as a routine scale and polish. My dentist these days is a lovely, motherly lady who calls me “pet” and “good girl” rather than use my name. I think she is a delight! She entertains me with a constant stream of consciousness as she works on me, fully aware I cannot reply as she has wedged my mouth wide open with a strange plastic and latex implement. She seems happy with an occasional eyebrow raise as acknowledgment or agreement.

I actually enjoy going to the dentist now as I always receive praise from her on my oral hygiene and health. I really, like… really, enjoy the sensations of her poking my gums with that sharp doodah she uses to check gum health, and as for the sting of the scraper thing she uses… oh man! It is divine!

As I write now I wonder if the fact I am a masochist submissive has had any bearing on my change of perception? I enjoy the semi painful treatment, I tingle at the sounds of drills and jets, I delight in being told I am a “good girl” or being called “pet”…

Could it be that rather than being a dentophobe I am in fact a dentophile?

Am I Bill Murray in Little Shop Of Horrors?

https://www.youtube.com/embed/KJ-6TCPdbl0“>

Am I a freak?

Ciao!

💋

Copyright, 2015, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Smells like…


I am in random mood so I am writing a totally random post… bear with me!

I have a particularly sensitive sense of smell… ask the OH – he only has to cut a cucumber somewhere within the house and I complain about the stench from it. This can be a problem, seeing as he loves cucumbers and also on those occasions where he eats garlic and I don’t… yeah that!

It is also problematic in department stores where pretty girls bombard you with perfume samples and do not even get me started about walking past a branch of Lush, let alone venturing inside.

Also, while I love the taste of a roast chicken, the smell that takes over the house as it cooks makes me gag…

However, having a great sense of smell has its own particular joys.

I thought I’d share a few of the most pleasing scents I can think of… coz, you know, random!

In no particular order, coz, you know, random…

FullSizeRender

What about you?

Are there any you disagree with or have I left out any obvious ones?

Ciao!

💋

Copyright, 2015, k1kat.com
All rights reserved.

Random Facts About Me – Food


I am awesome with eggs.

I prefer instant coffee to filter, unless I am out and can get a really good Americano.

I make my coffee with three heaped teaspoons and couldn’t imagine only using one as the jar suggests.

I prefer my toast to go cold before I butter it. Soggy buttery toast is not good.

The smell and taste of cucumber makes me nauseous.

I cannot understand why people eat mint sauce with lamb… seriously? Why?

The same goes for horseradish and anything.

If I had a Facebook status regarding food it would read “It’s Complicated”.

I often think of what to make for dinner before I’ve even had breakfast.

I always eat breakfast.

I am THAT woman that takes photos of her food to post to twitter.

I have instigated a rule with my bestie that we must send each other photos of our dinners.

She loves food as much as I do and gets ridiculously overexcited about leftovers.

I have never tasted anything Thai.

I do not see the point of cod – bland, flavourless, blah.

I love cheese but rarely allow myself to eat it.

Cold pizza rules.

I save a morsel of my dinner to treat the dogs once I am finished eating. They stare me down.

I have been caught perving on fellow diners food while eating out.

You do not want to be near me when I am hungry.

This:

IMG_8502

Copyright, 2015, k1kat.com

All rights reserved.

Not So Smart!


I was perched on my high stool at the kitchen counter with my beloved MacBookPro this morning, happily writing a #WickedWednesday story when an iMessage beeped on my iPad, (yep, I am an Apple girl!). I glanced down to check it and saw it was from none other than the OH himself, who incidentally I thought was in the house.

FullSizeRender

Turns out he was out tidying the car and had managed to get himself locked in.

I burst out laughing and ran to the front door, skidding to a halt halfway down the hall when I realised I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by. I scurried back to the counter and got the iPad…

I went out to the drive to see him hunched in the back seat, head in his hands, looking embarrassed and defeated. He saw the iPad in my hands and guessing my plan, promptly flipped me the bird. Shaking with laughter, it was all I could do to take the photo.

IMG_6451

As I compose this he has just walked in, looked over my shoulder, (incidentally one of my all time pet hates!), and said, “What? You’re doing a fucking post about it?!”

As if I wouldn’t share this with my readers. The story and sight of a grown man who has shamefacedly locked himself in the back seat of his own car is not one to be kept for my eyes only.

He said he might have tried to climb into the front seat but the very likely possibility of getting stuck, (he is the least bendy person ever),  and facing further humiliation outweighed the risk.

I simply told him he was lucky to have brought his phone along… the phone that’s sometimes smarter than him!

Ciao!

💋

p.s. the man just FaceTimed from upstairs a second ago… seriously…

Copyright, 2015, k1kat.com
All rights reserved.