If any of you want to be able to take me seriously from this point forward, stop reading now. Seriously, you might never look at me the same way again.

It all began on my flight back from London. The flight attendant handed me the menu and there under ’snack before landing’ I saw two fantastic little words “clotted cream”. Actually the exact wording was tea biscuits (aka scones) with jam and clotted cream but I really only cared about the and part.

Anyhow, never one to worry about seeming like a cheap bastard I asked the flight attendant if she could slip my some clotted cream at the end of the flight if there was any left over. There was and I walked off the plane with 9 single-servings of clotted cream (which I then proceeded to smuggle across the border into Canada - no sir, no dairy).

Needless to say I have been eating a lot of clotted cream over the past week which is what enabled me to discover a strange property of clotted cream. It seems that eating clotted cream for breakfast every morning turns pee florescent yellow. Seriously florescent. This is no asparagus or brocolli florescent but a true, bright, potentially glow in the dark (I haven’t tried) yellow.

Do you think it means that something equally unnatural is happening to my insides? Purple liver? Polka-dot intestine?

Either way, I only have two more servings left so on Monday I will be clotted cream free. I’ll let you know how long it takes for my pee to get back to normal. I know you’re all desperately interested now.

So I’m going to harp on my eyeshadow purchase cause, damn it, it cost me $25 and I’m going to get good mileage from it. My foray into the makeup section of the duty free store was one of my first due largely to the intimidating-as-all-hell nature of makeup counters.

Case in point, when I bought my eye-makeup remover from the Clinique counter the young little bit of stuff (as my Mom would have called her) looked me up and down with extreme disdain and said, “are you sure you don’t want to buy some makeup as well”.

Inside I was raging, ‘listen you little tart the only reason I’m not wearing maekup is because I left the hotel at 4:15 am and didn’t want to bring my makeup bag as carry on in case some over protective security guard decided that my mascara is actually some sort of plane-disintegrating bomb’.

Instead I said, “No thank you”. And slunked (slanked?) meekly away.

The Chanel counter, on the other hand, was manned by a flaboyently gay man. I felt so comfortable. I felt like he knew what he was talking about (I know, it’s a stereotype but we all do it with one thing or another) but at the same time I didn’t feel like he was a snarky judgemental bitch looking down his nose at me and my makeup free visage.

So if any of you ever go into the makeup business, I highly recommend hiring gay salesmen…I know that I won’t be buying from anyone else.

So last night at around 7ish I was walking the dog in the park and we passed by this homeless guy. For no discernable reason I suddenly thought,

‘I wonder how badly my arms would get cut if I had to protect myself if the homeless guy tried to stab me.’

Morbid, I know. But it continued. My next thoughts were,

‘How long would it take those guys playing frisbee to run over here once I started to scream for help.’

‘Would Meeka try to protect me if this guy started stabbing me?’

‘I wonder what part of the body it is most important to protect during a stabbing.’

Now I often go into hypothetical question and answer periods but it’s usually about good stuff (’I wonder what it would feel like to win the lottery’, etc). So this new found morbidity suprised me but, hey, I guess we all go through our moments so I didn’t think anything of it.

Until this morning.

This morning the dog park was abuzz with the latest news about the murder, a couple of weeks ago, of a cyclist right near the park. He was stabbed by a homeless guy. I hadn’t heard anything about it because I had been away.
Now, since then the homeless guy has been arrested so I certainly wasn’t walking past the same guy but how weird is it that I thought about what it must be like to be stabbed by a homeless guy near the dog park before I even knew that it had actually happened to someone else.

Yes, I do have to admit that I did watch the premiere of Hero’s last night. But still…

First of all, can anybody (especially anybody British) tells me what comes before the title line in the nursery rhyme? I can’t for the life of me remember.

Also, what is the opposite of ‘predecessor’?

These are the things that have been keeping me awake at night.

These things and the fact that now I’m back in the office I really need three days to get caught up on stuff I missed and follow up on promises I made in meetings. Instead I am already burried under a mountain of new, urgent stuff which I really don’t feel like dealing with at the moment.

On a positive note, I came home to an apartment which is almost completely finished. Walls have been painted, tiles grouted, knobs twisted (tee hee). It is fantastic!

On a random other topic, does anyone know how to meditate? Does it really work as a relaxation tool?

Ok, gotta go, it’s my brothers birthday on Sunday and I haven’t mailed his present yet. Hey, at least I bought it already.