Sometimes I wish that I had learnt all that I am meant to, eventually. Life might be a little bit easier.
The Fake Brunette
Thursday, 8 September 2011
Sunday, 28 August 2011
Hurricane Irene
I thought it would be appropriate to add a little follow-up to my post regarding Hurricane Irene a few days ago, whereby I basically slagged off American news reports for getting a wee bit too excited about potential tragedy.
There was a quote off the news, unfortunately I cannot remember who said it, which I believe sums it up:
"Better to be prepared for a crisis, than have a crisis and not be prepared."
So yes, even though I was annoyed at the near-apocolyptic excitement in the run-up to Irene, I have to admit that if even just one life was saved due to the hype in the media, then it was all worth it.
The Fake Brunette
There was a quote off the news, unfortunately I cannot remember who said it, which I believe sums it up:
"Better to be prepared for a crisis, than have a crisis and not be prepared."
So yes, even though I was annoyed at the near-apocolyptic excitement in the run-up to Irene, I have to admit that if even just one life was saved due to the hype in the media, then it was all worth it.
The Fake Brunette
Saturday, 27 August 2011
I Should Listen To The Clues With More Care
It amazes me sometimes when you happen to chance upon a random thought, let it glance through your mind and then toss it aside - only to have it happen a few days later.
But it wasn't a random thought, really, was it? No. It is rooted in suspicion, fear, hope; whatever best applies to you.
But it still happens. And it's always a shock.
The Fake Brunette
But it wasn't a random thought, really, was it? No. It is rooted in suspicion, fear, hope; whatever best applies to you.
But it still happens. And it's always a shock.
The Fake Brunette
Friday, 26 August 2011
Psycho You? Or Psycho Me?
Courtesy of Sky News...
The Medicines and Healthcare products Regulatory Agency (MHRA) has issued a safety warning following reports that some boxes may contain Seroquel XL 50mg. Seroquel XL is a prescription-only anti-psychotic drug used to treat disorders including schizophrenia, mania and bipolar depression. Click here to go to the article
To make matters worse, the anti-psychotic drug is made by a different company from Nurofen. Um, what? Honestly, sometimes I am just amazed at the lack of competence/caring some people exhibit.
On a random note, I have an American news channel on in the background, where for the last fifteen minutes they have talked of nothing but potential disastrous outcomes for New York city after Hurricane Irene may or may not hit. Now, I am all for keeping people safe. However, what seriously gets my goat is the drama they associate with something that might not even happen. It's a spectacle of a spectacle, in the true sense of the word. It's also difficult for me to take a newscaster seriously who looks like he has been botoxed, plucked and pumped to within an inch of his existence. I can only focus on his eyebrows which seem to be about a foot above where would be anatomically correct.
I hope nothing happens to the people who may be affected by the storm. But really, just tell us the news, not fill up air time with three 'experts' discussing potential catastrophes. Isn't there something better to do than get exited about potential tragedy?
Hmm the topic has now changed to Casey Anthony. Time to turn off the telly.
The Fake Brunette
Thanks to: http://news.sky.com/home/uk-news/article/16057016
Mix-Up Puts Anti-Psychotics In Nurofen Packs
9:58pm UK, Thursday August 25, 2011
Anti-psychotic drugs have mistakenly been put into thousands of packets of the painkiller Nurofen Plus.
The Medicines and Healthcare products Regulatory Agency (MHRA) has issued a safety warning following reports that some boxes may contain Seroquel XL 50mg. Seroquel XL is a prescription-only anti-psychotic drug used to treat disorders including schizophrenia, mania and bipolar depression. Click here to go to the article
To make matters worse, the anti-psychotic drug is made by a different company from Nurofen. Um, what? Honestly, sometimes I am just amazed at the lack of competence/caring some people exhibit.
On a random note, I have an American news channel on in the background, where for the last fifteen minutes they have talked of nothing but potential disastrous outcomes for New York city after Hurricane Irene may or may not hit. Now, I am all for keeping people safe. However, what seriously gets my goat is the drama they associate with something that might not even happen. It's a spectacle of a spectacle, in the true sense of the word. It's also difficult for me to take a newscaster seriously who looks like he has been botoxed, plucked and pumped to within an inch of his existence. I can only focus on his eyebrows which seem to be about a foot above where would be anatomically correct.
I hope nothing happens to the people who may be affected by the storm. But really, just tell us the news, not fill up air time with three 'experts' discussing potential catastrophes. Isn't there something better to do than get exited about potential tragedy?
Hmm the topic has now changed to Casey Anthony. Time to turn off the telly.
The Fake Brunette
Thanks to: http://news.sky.com/home/uk-news/article/16057016
Thursday, 25 August 2011
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
I Have a Dream
Okay, so I have been gone quite a long time. Not that anybody would particularly notice, but still. I feel bad. I started to enjoy this strange world of blogging and then allowed life to get in the way. The short story, I've moved to California (for a little while, at least). The long story, perhaps I'll type it up one day if ever the mood strikes. Quite unlikely, though.
California is an odd place. The stereotypical vision assigned to California (at least for my snow-bound, British friends) is one of infinite palm trees, beaches, and people too good looking for their own good, for which I blame Hollywood and Katy Perry. To some extent, this is true. But let me flip the coin for you - it is not hot. It is blistering, boiling-under-your-feet-even-though-you-have-shoes-on, scorching heat that must be on par with the sun itself. Sounds great, right? No. Not if you are a normal human being with sweat glands. I suppose it doesn't help that the airconditioning at my house consists of tiny vents installed in the flooring circa mid-70's that sometimes decides to shoot out hot air instead, creating a Mars-like dozy atmosphere. I see people on the street clothed head to toe in outfits similar to what I would wear to say, the North Pole; perfectly content whilst sipping their Starbucks. To be fair, I am still adjusting. Perhaps all those cold winters 'up norf' has thickened my skin somewhat. I think I would be better equipped to handle the heat if I had the promise of a lush beach, but no - it is really, really far away. Instead I am stuck smack-bang in the middle of Silicon Valley, which I swear must translate in some language to 'ball of fire'.
One aspect of the American lifestyle that I just can't wrap my head around is how unnervingly friendly people are. It's not truly a bad thing at all, except it does freak me out when the cashier at the supermarket feels inclined to tell me about her sexual exploits. Or the man on the plane who felt it appropriate to divulge his affair, in great detail (maybe I just attract sex talk. Hmm). I must admit I was incredibly grateful for the kindness of strangers when my connecting flight in Chicago was delayed by 24 hours. It wasn't just delayed in a straightforward manner; instead they let us get all comfy at the gate to announce the flight had been delayed by an hour. Okay. Repeat that 9 times, hour upon hour, on very little sleep with no money in your pocket, and life starts to get a little testing. I have particular feelings of fondness for the security guard who let me pass countless times back and forth through security to get my nicotine fix (he apparently wasn't around during 9/11), and the lady who watched my bags when I embarassingly fell asleep at the gate. However, I reserve feelings of abhorrence for the airline staff that rebooked my bags to arrive 7 hours after I did eventually reach California. Or maybe I am just a pessimist.
I suppose it doesn't help that it's been tricky finding a job. The work going at the moment in my area literally seems to consist purely of rather sophisticated IT jobs, and weirdly, dental receptionists. I have white teeth and can turn on my computer, hello! That line hasn't seem to have worked just yet. It's incredibly frustrating, I've been so lucky to have had thousands of pounds spent on an extraordinary education, I've travelled the world, I think I am clever - what's the deal? I'm guessing the biggest mitigating factor is that I cannot drive so am limited in how far away I can apply. Telling a potential employer that you'd be willing to sleep in their offices Monday-Friday to avoid a commute doesn't seem to go down so well for some reason. To defend myself, I did start learning how to drive, until my driving instructor decided he fancied me and became more than slightly creepy. Finding a free, female or gay male driving instructor is currently on my to-do list.
Possibly my feelings regarding California are tainted by the incredible amount that I miss my friends and The Tall Boy. It is very hard to pick up and start again. However, I have moved many times in the past, and there is a part of me that is looking forward to the future. I may complain but then, I love the challenge. California has a lot to offer, for which I am grateful. England, I'm sure we'll meet again, further down the road. Hat's off to you, mate.
The Fake Brunette
California is an odd place. The stereotypical vision assigned to California (at least for my snow-bound, British friends) is one of infinite palm trees, beaches, and people too good looking for their own good, for which I blame Hollywood and Katy Perry. To some extent, this is true. But let me flip the coin for you - it is not hot. It is blistering, boiling-under-your-feet-even-though-you-have-shoes-on, scorching heat that must be on par with the sun itself. Sounds great, right? No. Not if you are a normal human being with sweat glands. I suppose it doesn't help that the airconditioning at my house consists of tiny vents installed in the flooring circa mid-70's that sometimes decides to shoot out hot air instead, creating a Mars-like dozy atmosphere. I see people on the street clothed head to toe in outfits similar to what I would wear to say, the North Pole; perfectly content whilst sipping their Starbucks. To be fair, I am still adjusting. Perhaps all those cold winters 'up norf' has thickened my skin somewhat. I think I would be better equipped to handle the heat if I had the promise of a lush beach, but no - it is really, really far away. Instead I am stuck smack-bang in the middle of Silicon Valley, which I swear must translate in some language to 'ball of fire'.
One aspect of the American lifestyle that I just can't wrap my head around is how unnervingly friendly people are. It's not truly a bad thing at all, except it does freak me out when the cashier at the supermarket feels inclined to tell me about her sexual exploits. Or the man on the plane who felt it appropriate to divulge his affair, in great detail (maybe I just attract sex talk. Hmm). I must admit I was incredibly grateful for the kindness of strangers when my connecting flight in Chicago was delayed by 24 hours. It wasn't just delayed in a straightforward manner; instead they let us get all comfy at the gate to announce the flight had been delayed by an hour. Okay. Repeat that 9 times, hour upon hour, on very little sleep with no money in your pocket, and life starts to get a little testing. I have particular feelings of fondness for the security guard who let me pass countless times back and forth through security to get my nicotine fix (he apparently wasn't around during 9/11), and the lady who watched my bags when I embarassingly fell asleep at the gate. However, I reserve feelings of abhorrence for the airline staff that rebooked my bags to arrive 7 hours after I did eventually reach California. Or maybe I am just a pessimist.
I suppose it doesn't help that it's been tricky finding a job. The work going at the moment in my area literally seems to consist purely of rather sophisticated IT jobs, and weirdly, dental receptionists. I have white teeth and can turn on my computer, hello! That line hasn't seem to have worked just yet. It's incredibly frustrating, I've been so lucky to have had thousands of pounds spent on an extraordinary education, I've travelled the world, I think I am clever - what's the deal? I'm guessing the biggest mitigating factor is that I cannot drive so am limited in how far away I can apply. Telling a potential employer that you'd be willing to sleep in their offices Monday-Friday to avoid a commute doesn't seem to go down so well for some reason. To defend myself, I did start learning how to drive, until my driving instructor decided he fancied me and became more than slightly creepy. Finding a free, female or gay male driving instructor is currently on my to-do list.
Possibly my feelings regarding California are tainted by the incredible amount that I miss my friends and The Tall Boy. It is very hard to pick up and start again. However, I have moved many times in the past, and there is a part of me that is looking forward to the future. I may complain but then, I love the challenge. California has a lot to offer, for which I am grateful. England, I'm sure we'll meet again, further down the road. Hat's off to you, mate.
The Fake Brunette
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)