Te presento a....

Not that I always feel the need to justify everything I do but....

A few reasons why:

1. Kellycat

I've never really been one to pick up nicknames. My Dad called me Darlene in my teens after the character from "Roseanne", probably because I was such a charming and communicative individual at the time. I've picked up three nicknames in later life, which are all worringly connected to "Friends". I am known to some as "Chick", but only because my boyfriend's nickname is "Duck". A few people have labelled me "Monica"although as I am not in the least bit competetive I'm not sure why. "Kellycat" comes from a twist on Phoebe's song "Smellycat", which went (originally) "Kellycat, Kellycat, what are they feeding you?". This was not, I must add, because I had body odour, but because when I lived in Cairns I started putting on weight at an alarming rate.

2. A Blog?

It's not really something I'd thought of doing before, until Surly Girl started doing hers. As I don't actually understand half of the technical questions I have been asked in order to set this blog up, it might never happen anyway. I would probably describe myself as somebody with a lot of pent up rage, and rather than ramming old lady's ankles with my trolley in Asda, this is probably the best way for me to vent it. I was very good at creative writing at school (not that I'm the least bit competetive), and other then writing the odd bit of cringe-making copy at work, I've rarely had the opportunity to make much use of my talents. I did write an article once for my student union newspaper. They had invited articles on people's hometowns. I wrote what I considered to be a dry, tongue-in-cheek article about my own provincial backwater and its charms. Whoever edited that page was obviously from the other side of the Atlantic, because sarcasm was lost on them. Exclamation marks were added to the end of every sentence and my dry humour was turned into a piece which sounded as if it had been written by an over-excited labrador puppy. On ecstacy. I was so scarred by this experience that I never wrote another article for them. I'm still slightly paranoid that somebody from Webloggers is going to hack into my blog and do the same thing!! Although I'm sure there are privacy laws and things to prevent them doing so!!!!

3. Hormones

I'm premenstrual, and I've spent the day shopping for curtains. I also have the start of a cold coming on. While Duck is downstairs in the new dining room (which until several weeks ago was our garage) trying to put up the new curtains that it took us three hours to buy, and getting short-tempered and sweary with it, upstairs on the PC is probably the best place to be.
Due to hormones and germs, everything between my knees and hairline currently hurts, so my writing may get more aggressive as time goes on. As I suffer from crippling pain on a monthly basis, I am having a "procedure" next week, which will probably leave me cross-eyed for a couple of days and able to pick up digital radio stations and a strong signal from Vodafone, but should hopefully sort out the hormones. My consultant has assured me that my ultrasound scan shows that I am "structurally" sound (no dry-rot or subsidence then) but I just don't get on very well with my hormones. He has also referred to me in a letter to my GP as a "problem" due to the fact that I suffer from migraines as well, which cancels out a lot of treatments. I am doing OK so far today, in that I have only cried once, and that was watching last night's X-Factor this morning.

4. Handbags

Those of you who have read D-Flat Chime Bar will know that Surly Girl has a fondness for shoes. My weakness is handbags. If Surly Girl was a size 4 we'd compliment each other perfectly. Despite the fact that I have a crate of handbags, I never seem to have exactly what I need for a particular occasion or outfit. The bag is either too formal or not formal enough. Not quite the right shade. Not the right kind of strap. Not big enough to fit my wallet, phone, comb, tissues, mirror, lip gloss, keys, compact and chewing gum in. Not small enough so that I look like a mum of three. Basically, no matter how many hadbags I have, they're always not quite right.

This dilemma I feel, is somewhat of a metaphor for my life. The question is, will my life fall into place when I have the perfect handbag, or does my life need to reach a certain "place" before I either find the perfect handbag, or be happy enough to accept that I never will.

As my hormones are obviously making me come over a bit Zen, I shall say goodnight....