Nothing to be afraid of

I was hoping to have gotten to grips with contact-lenses in time for the festival this weekend, but it looks like I left it too late. Well, I'll just have to be blind then, because I'm not wearing my glasses, that's for sure. I hate them!

I'm not crazy about sticking little bits of plastic to my eyeballs, either. But I suppose it's something you get used to with a bit of practice — like tampons, I expect. Well, I didn't use them until I was twenty-one. I think I was put off by that Tampax advert that illustrated a tampon as a little mouse with a tail; "Nothing to be afraid of!" read the headline. Um... right. Because the thought of pushing a small rodent up there really helped me to relax.

But anyway, if you're going to the Electric Picnic then there's a blonky meet-up at the Body & Soul area at 4pm tomorrow. Be sure to give me a poke if you come along... I won't be able to see you.

The Most Vertical Boy in the Sea

I inadvertently ruined my nephew Otto's life at the weekend by arranging a family surfing trip when he'd been hoping to hang out with his mates in Galway. I'm not sure what it was he was planning on doing with them that he couldn't do with me and his dad — we're cool, right? — and so he got dragged along regardless, not even the sight of the Most Beautiful Girl in the School cheering him up.

But surfing was a great idea, it turned out, if only because it gave my brother a good wash, what with all that sea-water rinsing out the two little harvest mice that live in his beard. And Otto seemed to brighten up once he realised that, at almost half my age, he was much better at standing up on the board than I would ever be.

"Put that on yer blonk," he said, with what I suspected was a slight hint of hopefulness.

Well, I don't usually do requests, but on the offchance that it helps him piece his life back together, here it is.

The Most Beautiful Girl on the Radio

The Most Beautiful Girl in the School is on her way over to Dublin to stay with me for her holidays, completely unaware that I defamed her on Irish radio last week.

I was on the Life! With Orla Barry show on Newstalk, which I was very excited about because it was about writing diaries and not the usual, 'So, what is this crazy thing you call the internet, then?'. At last, somebody is taking me seriously! A show about writing things down. Also, I was appearing alongside popular Irish author Bill Cullen, which must have been a real privilege for him.

So, after we'd banged on about ourselves for a bit they started to get texts through from listeners, which I also found quite exciting, because that meant that people were, like, listening and stuff. Louise in County Cavan wanted to know how much of my blonk is the truth. How much exactly?

"Everything on my blonk is 100% truth," I churned out, glad that I'd been practising with my hairbrush in front of the mirror. "Sometimes it just needs a little pinch of salt."

"Yes," said the tough presenter. "But what do you mean by that? Give us an example."

Oh, um, right. An example. I raced through my memory, but being on the radio made me nervous and my head was a blur. I couldn't think of anything! Oh dear, I thought, I've started to believe my own blonk. But the whole of Ireland was waiting with baited breath, so, in desperation, I just plucked something randomly out of the air.

"Well, there's my friend, the Most Beautiful Girl in the School," I said, relieved to be saying anything at all. "In real life she's not all that."

I guess she'll find out when she arrives at the airport, when she's mobbed by angry, disillusioned fans.

What if nobody shows up?

We're thinking of having a house-warming party soon, seems we've been in this attic for over six months now. Bjarni is enthusiastic — we have full bottles of tequila and Icelandic vodka, after all, and a cocktail shaker to mix them together in — but I'm not so keen.

Bjarni, y'see, can invite all his work friends, and those gothy chicks from that nightclub he goes to, but I can count on one hand the number of people that I could invite to a party. I like to blame this on working from home. Most days I barely even manage to get into my knickers, nevermind get out and about befriending people. Arrfgh, party stress. What if nobody shows up?

"Exactly!" calls my imaginary friend, Anthony, from the rocking chair in the living room. "What if nobody shows up? And then, as soon as people do start to show up, you worry that too many people will show up! Same thing happens to everybody."

Um, it does? I don't think I'm going to have that problem, somehow. I really don't care about damage to property, causing the neighbours any unwarranted stress, or the comatose girl throwing up in my bed. I only care that nobody will show up!

Pfft. What is the point of imaginary friends when they just don't understand you at all?

Putting a stop to all that nonsense

When I first met Bjarni he was recently divorced and in the process of installing a hot-tub in the tiny bathroom of his Reykjavik apartment. Presumably he had visions of bathing groups of lithe young women in it at the weekends, but I soon put a stop to all that nonsense by insisting that we embark on an "exclusive" relationship.

This meant he wasn't allowed to see other women, he wasn't allowed to have sex with other women, and he wasn't allowed to think about other women unless they were hairier, wider, shorter, and paler than me.

Eat their shorts

"People have approached us regularly to make a Simpsons movie. But each episode we do has enough story, character developments and one-liners to sustain an entire movie. I just don't see the point of taking a half-hour piece of work and stretching it out to 90 minutes."
Matt Groening, Teach Yourself Screenwriting, 2003

"I can't believe you're paying to watch something you could see on TV for free! If you ask me, everyone in this theater is a big sucker! Especially, you!"
Homer Simpson, The Simpsons Movie, 2007

Not very good at standing up on things

I went on a surfing trip this weekend, which I was absolutely dreading because I went skiing in the Alps last year and ended up stuck on top of a glacier crying for two hours. After that I decided I'm just not very good at sports where you have to stand up on things, so I wasn't particularly optimistic about managing it on a waxed board in the Atlantic ocean.

Getting into the wetsuit felt surprisingly good, though. It was tight and black and rubbery and I felt quite foxy in it, like Shannon from Home and Away. But then I caught sight of my reflection looking more like Pippa, and I made a mental note to keep my tummy held right in as soon as I was gliding over those waves.

I had also made a little deal with myself to definitely not pee in my wetsuit once I got out to sea, but honestly I couldn't help it. Not because I'd forgotten to go beforehand, or because it felt nice and warm, but because every time I got sucked under a massive wave I opened up my mouth and out came, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, I THINK I'M GOING TO DIE, and my lungs would fill up with salt water and a little wee would escape all of its own accord.

So standing up was, predictably, near impossible, but being a Piscean in my natural habitat I perservered. And then all of a sudden there I was, standing up on my board, the Atlantic crashing and spilling all around me but nobody watching, so I opened up my mouth and out came, LOOK AT ME, YOU FOOLS, LOOK AT ME! HERE I AM STANDING UP ON THE WAVES, JUST LIKE SHANNON IN HOME AND AWAY!

But then I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see the Australian surf instructor standing right behind me.

"You're Annie, right? Uh, you need to get further out. Your tail-fin is wedged in the sand and you're going to damage the board."

Butterflies and aeroplanes

Here is Nina's new blog template, which I made for her last week, with butterflies and aeroplanes, because she's always flying off to an exotic new location, and pink because it's her favourite colour.

It's working fine in all browsers except spacky Internet Explorer 6, of course, where the top left of the header is getting chopped off because it hangs over the edge. Any tips? Not even Bjarni Supergeek was able to fix this one.

If you're still using Internet Explorer please do the world wide web a favour and download Firefox instead. It's free and it will get you laid.