My salad dressing days

Newsflash: bile spillage off coast of Scottish capital
February 18, 2008, 9:49 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Subject line: We are loving your work! 

Hey Gorgeous Beauty Blogger!

We love what you do and would love to share, it’s what makes the world go around!

We are looking at giving our readers even more relevant beauty content, and thought it would be great to feature some of your content on our site as a regular column with a link into your own world of all things fabulous of course!

Alternatively if this doesn’t work for you, get in touch if you would like to do a link exchange with us.

Do let me know your thoughts. Looking forward to hearing from you,

Love and Best Wishes

Mimi xx

Subject line: I have no respect for your approach to securing more traffic to your vacuous, content-lite website!

Hey Gorgeous Wannabe Beauty PR!

I loathe your ridiculous mass-emailing techniques! It’s what breeds cynicism amongst real bloggers!

I am looking at hitting the ‘Report spam’ button the next time I get an email like this from someone like you! No, really, I am! That way you and your acolytes might finally figure out that bloggers are not brainless idiots who would give their iBook to promote your stoopid website!

Alternatively, if you think this is kinda mean of me, QUIT SENDING OUT EMAILS WHICH INDICATE CLEARLY THAT YOU HAVE NEVER READ MY BLOG.

Don’t get back to me on this, because I already know the answer!

Love and bile,

Lisa Later x


A simpler solution
February 13, 2008, 9:33 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Make it a level playing field.

Let everybody in sport take drugs.

No – better still – make them take drugs. Lots and lots of drugs.

And then let’s see if we can get the world record for the men’s 100m dash down to under 7.5 seconds.

Wouldn’t that be fun?

Jinxing Fairy: be gone!
February 10, 2008, 9:39 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Having done eight runs and it now being February, I decided that the Jinxing Fairy Of Healthy New Habits had probably got bored and flown off to bother my neighbour who just took up Pilates. Yep, the time was right to purchase some new running shoes.

I went to what is regarded as the only show in town when it comes to footwear for the serious runner (and I think someone who can reliably run a 15 minute mile can be called a ‘serious runner’, right?).

Although my worries about the Jinxing Fairy had decreased, I nonetheless informed the sales assistant about my superstition when it comes to purchasing new gear for a newish hobby. She did me the honour of nodding sagely which was entirely the response I wanted. It also gave me the opportunity of communicating that I did not want to go overboard on the purchase, knowing that some of these pieces of moulded plastic cost the equivalent of my first weekly wage packet.

She asked me to remove my shoes and run up and down a piece of carpet (whilst embarrassing, this was a thousand times less humilitating than my bra-measuring experience) and concluded that the arch of my right foot falls in when I run.

She disappeared for what seemed like three quarters of a nanosecond and arrived back with two budget-appropriate, arch-supporting pairs of trainers.

In the first pair, I looked like I had strapped a couple of Ellen Macarthur’s catamarans to my feet. The sales assistant mercifully agreed that the width was perhaps wrong.

The second pair were lovely. Supportive, cushiony and, most importantly, aesthetically pleasing (with nice burnt orange flashes and tongue) and costing only half of what I earned opening hotel room doors and spraying half a cannister of Mr Sheen around before moving onto the next one.

I was ooh-ing and ah-ing and bobbing my head up and down in the manner of one of those sinister-looking dogs in that car insurance commercial, hoping she would take this as a sign that she had delivered.

But she was on a roll.

“Hang on a sec, I think we might have one of the newer makes which a lot of our customers like…these are also in the sale!”

Yeah but I like the orangey ones.


“How do they feel? Have a little run in them!”

“OK…” YeahbutIliketheorangeyones.

“Or in fact, perhaps it’s worth trying some of the men’s models…”

“Alright…” Idon’twanttowearmen’sshoes! AndbesidesIliketheorangeyones.

“What d’you think? Comfortable?”

“Mmm…” YeahbutIliketheorangeyones.

“Oooh! Y’know, we might just have that first pair in a narrower width – shall I…?”

YeahbutIliketheorangeyones. Good God, woman, get a grip and TELL HER!

“Actually, I think I’ll take this pair.”

“Which ones?”

“The nice oran…the ones that are really supportive of my right arch?”

“Good choice! The right support is really important. Let me take the box over to the till.”

Result. (Thankfuckalready.)

Racial stereotyping starts here
February 6, 2008, 4:02 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

My three-year-old daughter whilst watching Bedknobs and Broomsticks:

‘Mummy, those are the Germans. [pause] They’re just pretending to be nice.’

Quick! Somebody call Trevor Phillips!

We need to talk about scampi
February 4, 2008, 6:42 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Seriously, we do.

So…Young’s (fine purveyors of all things fishy) are fishing for the scampis (aka torn-up bits of prawns or langoustines) in Scotland. And, whereas they used to process them in Scotland, they now ship them to Thailand to be hand-peeled. Because this is what the punters like, apparently. When the processing was done in Scotland, the scampis were peeled by a machine. Vox pop said: machine-peeling bad, we no likey. Hand-peeling good, we likey.

With me?

(Entirely coincidentally, you realise, it just happens to be approximately one gazillion times cheaper to get some Thai people to hand-peel the scampis, rather than whack them through some machine in Scotland.)

And when the scampis are peeled, they are shipped back to Scotland to be packaged. Because we like nice packaging with proper spelling and stuff.

Some people did not like this (the shipping it halfway round the world and back bit) because it was a bit crap for Scottish employment levels and seriously shit (so it seemed) for the environment.

So Young’s got in a reputable NGO to investigate the environmental impact of giving these (sadly dead) scampis the trip of a lifetime (and back again) and claim that – because they had ditched machines in favour of hand-peeling – there was no difference in the levels of carbon emissions between the old and new processes.


‘Well, that’s marvellous,’ I hooted. ‘Silly, but marvellous! I mean, fair play to Young’s. They got some flak, so they pulled in The Carbon Trust to do some research and turns out everything is tickety-boo.’

‘Ah…’ sighed the resident emissions expert. ‘But did they take into account the carbon emitted to produce the food to feed those Thai workers who are hand-peeling the scampis? Somehow I doubt it. Just as the machines in the Scottish processing plant needed energy, so do those Thai workers.’


This climate change stuff is kinda complicado, no? 

Be a Scottish scampi! Travel the globe!