Bilingue

I have a bilingual computer.

It's a bit confusing for anyone who isn't me, but some bits are in French, some bits are in English, and none of it seems to follow any logical pattern.

I'm setting up backup discs at the moment, and my computer came out with this:

From No. No more penguins.

Don't you just love it when inanimate objects show a bit of personality?

(In case you're struggling to read it, click on the picture and it'll take you to the full-size version in Picasa. We has a technology now!)

The Beak

I know, I know, I've not been around much lately, apart from the occasional tweet (hey, have you seen my Twitter sidebar? Have you? Have you?) about being hungry, which is pretty much a permanent condition at the moment.

I have been translating. There has been much translating of the translatey stuff by the translator of late.

I have also been growing a beak, or at least, it feels that way.

I've suffered from (yes, suffered from is definitely the right phrase) cold sores as long as I can imagine, and, as my immune system's been a bit busy dealing with colds recently, they've got me again. That's what I really hate about them. They really do kick you when you're down. The swines. (I might use a stronger word here, but this is the Internets, and it doesn't do to say anything on the Internets you wouldn't want your parents/inlaws/younger siblings to hear. Close brackets).

Anyway, cold sores vary in terms of pain levels. Some look bad but don't hurt much, at least after the first day or so. Some make my whole face ache for a week. This particular one feels like I'm growing a beak, and ohhh, it HURTS. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

When I said "no more penguins", I thought that implied I didn't want to be one either. Clearly, I was wronk. (I meant to type "wrong", but I quite like "wronk", so I'm going to leave it there).

Back to the cupboard now (that's where the paracetamol is).

Suspension of Disbelief

I've been watching a lot of episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer of late.

Please don't judge me. It was Ze Husband's fault. He MADE me do it.

I'd never seen an episode of Buffy until about six weeks ago, given the only reason I stopped having nightmares about the Big Bad Wolf was because said BBW got chased off by imaginary vampires whose desire to eat me was even stronger. And those vampires could FLY, dammit- my usual techniques for escaping from the wolves didn't work any more.

I digress.

Anyway, with the assistance of a cushion to hide behind and knitting so as to avoid concentrating too much, I've got through three whole seasons. There are many things in Buffy requiring suspension of disbelief- all the vampires, for instance. But the one thing that really gets me is: Just how many coats does that girl have? Normal people have one coat, maybe two, or three at a push. I counted, and Buffy had SIX different coats in one episode. Seriously. And it's not even cold in California.

Back to the cupboard to hide from flying things with fangs...