When loneliness calls

We are well and truly into December, and there is something about this month that makes you feel ever so lonely if you are single. Even more so than being single on Valentine's Day. It's disheartening having nobody special to exchange pressies with on Christmas Day, having nobody special to kiss as the clock strikes twelve midnight for the New Year. The festive season sucks big time when you are single, at least for me anyway. Sure I have my family and friends but it's winter and I just want somebody who can keep me warm during the freezing weather (no, a scarf and pair of gloves are not quite the same), somebody I can walk hand in hand with through the pretty, magical and oh so fluffy snow. Damn you December, I was doing so well before you came along.

And you just know the loneliness bug has crept up and bitten you hard when you start developing a crush on the least likely of candidates, somebody who you wouldn't even glance twice at if they were to pass you by on the street. The person in question here is some dude at work who is happily married, I presume, with like a dozen kids. Now don't get me wrong, I'm no homewrecker or cheap hussy, I am not about to act upon this. Like ever. I do have some morals you know. Oh and an ounce of self-control. It's just weird, here's this guy who is like miles older than me, is not conventionally good-looking, who I actually previously even mildly disliked, and now all of a sudden I find myself strangely drawn to him. Symptoms of loneliness? It has to be.

And it's not like he's a newbie, he's pretty much part of the furniture now. It's not like he's somebody I work closely with either, I barely see him, we don't run in the same circles and have absolutely nothing in common, we don't talk, we don't acknowledge each other, so it makes no sense really. He's not even remotely nice, he is attitude and arrogance personified, the exact opposite of who I would choose to date, the kind of man I would completely steer clear of yet here I am, struggling to keep him out of my fantasies, my eyes eagerly seek him out at work, my mind goes into over-drive thinking about him, I desperately act all nonchalant when I bump into him, praying that my flustered self doesn't betray me. And to be honest, I do actually find this unusual crush rather embarrassing, ridiculous, and nothing short of positively absurd, I would be absolutely mortified if it were to ever find its way out in the open.

But yes, there is something incredibly sexy about him, he's got a little swagger going on, he's also all man, not so much in his physical appearance but in his manner and conduct, his walk, yes, he's definitely got that swagger thing going on. And yes, I do feel an insane amount of guilt for fancying a married man but like I said, and I repeat, it's not like it's going to go any further than that, it is a lust confined within the walls of my mind, which shall never find a moment to wander from within its restriction, it is well aware of its limits and what is out of bounds. Hey, it's okay to look, as long you don't touch right? Besides, my fantasies are my own, I am entitled to them so please don't tut and condemn me to hell. My fantasies are in which there are no boundaries and no rules, my fantasies have no law or code of conduct. And I am well aware that reality never matches up to the fantasy so don't worry, I am not verging on entering dangerous territory. It's not my fault, blame loneliness. That and the serious lack of talent within my workplace. Loneliness makes you lose your sanity, it makes you loopy, loneliness is beguiling, it is almost like a practical joke, loneliness is virtually a mental illness really.

So whilst loneliness envelops me like a blanket at night, and I hug my pillow tight, wallowing in self-pity, remember, when loneliness calls, don't answer.

Confessions of a Killer Part 2

Forgive me for I have become quite like a dog with a bone in relation to this whole O.J. uncovering the truth malarkey. That and I just realised that I compared myself to a dog. Anyway, I don't mean to sound all strict and bossy but you must, must, must skim through Part 1 first otherwise the contents of this post will have you all confuzzled and 'what the hell?', and you will neither understand nor appreciate fully my very recent O.J. infatutation, but if you do scan through Part 1 like I am furiously advising you to, well, then all shall become clear, and the world will be a better place. Okay, the last bit is a lie but still, rebel at your own peril, in fact I dare you to, go on.

So to continue...

O.J.'s biased account had whet my appetite but not fully satisfied it. Then I landed on 'How I Helped O.J. Get Away With Murder', written by some dude called Mike Gilbert, O.J.'s "sports agent, business advisor, and trusted confidant". Hmmm, not sure he grasped the the last bit well though, what with his revealing story and everything, I bet O.J. would agree with me there too. Yes I know practically everybody has cashed in on the O.J. saga by publishing a book of some sort at some point, even like the old man who lives down the bottom of my road, and my next-door neighbour's goldfish but I felt this Gilbert character might have something more substantial to reveal and so I got sucked into his tale. Please note, I am not at all knocking the goldfish, in fact a goldfish penning a book - that there is pure talent - somebody get the goldfish an agent already.

Gilbert's exposé more or less begins where O.J.'s left off which is pretty convenient and handy for me really, it's like some sort of a sequel. We get a close look at the ever fascinating trial from the eyes of a man at the heart of it. He views the book as a means through which to "atone for his sins", a way in which to repent for all the deceit he found himself embroiled in which heavily included "creating smokescreens". It is also an apology to both Nicole, Goldman and their respective families, not only for aiding O.J. "get away with murder" but also for failing to defend Nicole during all the physical abuse, for turning a blind eye, and for not once intervening.

Gilbert insists that before 'that night' they had all been "people you might have liked", that they "weren't evil, stupid or crazy", refusing to judge O.J. by what he believes was "the worst day of his life" but being utterly ashamed of the man he became after it. O.J. had been Gilbert's childhood hero and idol you see so the downward spiral he embarked upon after the trial naturally left Gilbert thoroughly disappointed and quickly losing respect for "the god of flight" who was thought to have been "larger than life, bigger than celebrity" prior to the altercation.

Not once does Gilbert paint O.J. as a monster, he is always depicted as "gracious, kind, warm, funny, and dignified", and although Gilbert maintains that Nicole suffered from physical abuse at the hands of her husband, he recalls moments where he was also "very warm, sympathetic, and empathetic" towards her, like the instance when his ex-wife phoned him because she was struggling to come to terms with the whole ageing process, apparently O.J. had been nothing but "sweet and kind", extremely reassuring and "encouraging", helping to boost her self-confidence and self-esteem. Gilbert also mentions Nicole's affair and insinuates that she wasn't all that saintly. However, ultimately nothing really excuses a man raising his hands, or fists even, to a woman. Gilbert agrees with much of what O.J. divulged about his ex-wife - that she was rather "angry and flustered". Nicole supposedly had issues with anybody who worked closely with O.J., treating them "dismissively and sometimes even with hostility", Gilbert recalls an occassion where she once even punched O.J.'s housekeeper just because her "mere presence" annoyed her - something O.J. also discussed in his memoirs. Although his account further corresponds with that of his former friend's when he admits that Nicole practically stalked O.J. after their separation, O.J. is contradicted when Gilbert asserts that prior to her death Nicole's attitude had changed, that she managed a complete u-turn and shunned O.J., choosing to party with her friend Faye rather than chase him like she used to - this is what apparently what angered O.J., the possibility that Nicole was finally over him and no longer needed him in her life. I guess here is strongly a case of 'it takes two', with both parties being guilty, with both displaying unreasonable behaviour, but with only one surpassing it significantly, and dangerously taking it a step or three too far.

The dynamics of O.J. and Nicole's relationship however are not majorly important here, this book boasts revelations, and revelations are what Gilbert is intent on providing, disclosing the deception and juicy antics that cultivated throughout the entire trial. The dirty tactics and level of deceit employed on O.J.'s behalf by his representatives are truly shocking at times, like insisting that O.J.'s blood was planted on the crime scene by Fuhrman, a 'racist' cop. Gilbert comes clean and confesses that Fuhrman was in fact "out of all the cops involved in the case... by far the best... was awake, alert - overall an excellent detective". And therefore sadly a huge threat to the defence team. Even O.J. himself confided that Fuhrman was a "damn good cop" and a "good witness". They set about finding a way to destroy his character, and luckily got hold of tapes where he had used racist language, using it to their advantage to present their case. Admittedly it was fair game, it's not like they had blackmailed him into spewing racist slurs but Fuhrman became entangled in controversy and was highly condemned as a result. They, it seems, had no qualms about destroying his reputation - 'all's fair in love and war' after all. The most outrageous secret that Gilbert reveals is the mystery of the shrinking glove - the suggestion that O.J. lay off his arthritis medicine for a while as this would cause his hands to swell, and in turn mean that that incriminating glove would fail to fit - this "iconic moment of the trial" was engineered by Gilbert himself and is the key to just how exactly he "helped O.J. get away with murder". They obviously weren't big on morality but then again we are talking about a man who violently slayed two people, I imagine morality probably was never a strong concern to begin with. Hey, don't get me wrong, I am not naïve, I understand that's the nature of the game, the defence crew have been hired to do a job, it's a courtroom not a church, righteousness won't pay the bills and put food on the table, all I am simply doing is relaying the events of the book as they stand.

Gilbert also mentions a somewhat confession from O.J. even though he maintained to all, including those closest to him, that he was intensely innocent - "I did go there that night, but I didn't take a knife... Nicole opened the door with a knife in her hand... if she hadn't opened that door with a knife in her hand, Mike, she'd still be alive". Chilling. Oh and by the way O.J., that's no real excuse. This version of events, you will find, differs to that of the one in 'If I Did It' where the knife was O.J.'s, not Nicole's. Either way he was confessing to the murders, so why would he lie about the owner of the knife? Does it really make a difference? Weird. Gilbert further believes that O.J. was "drugged-out" on Prozac during that time period, that leading up to the days before the murders he had been distinctly "vacant" and "incoherent" which is why he probably refused to accept his responsibility for the double homocide - "If O.J. had committed these murders while on Prozac, he would remember it like a dream, like something outside of himself, like something he saw from above, like an out-of-body experience. He would see it as something somebody else did, not him. It's there in some form in his mind, but not as true memory. It's called disassociative state". This theory vastly matches O.J.'s confused frame of mind in the hypothetical confession of 'If I Did It'. Does that mean he was indeed mentally fragile? Does that excuse his crime? Does that no longer make him a murderer?

What follows post trial is the death of celebrity, Gilbert narrates O.J.'s disgraceful downfall and financial ruin, as well his contempt for the dishonorable and degrading person his idol became as a result. It makes for a riveting read but is also quite sad at the same time, I even felt both sympathy and pity for O.J. at this point, I don't know why but it is quite upsetting reading about somebody losing all they have known - fame, fortune, friends. No, I haven't forgotten the cold-blooded murders, and yes, maybe I am just a soft touch. Desperate and off the rails, O.J. became a mere shadow of his former self. The trial was a Pyrrhic victory for him, a victory that came at such a great cost, something he continued paying for well and truly the rest of his life.

Gilbert is extremely self-deprecating which eventually begins to grate on you. He is continuously remorseful and apologetic that it becomes tiresome, it's like okay we get it Gilbert, you are sorry, enough about you now, more about O.J. please. Overall though the book is helpful in confirming various aspects of 'If I Did It', like Nicole's temperament and behaviour, although the motivation behind the crime still remains unclear with contrasting explanations from both Gilbert and O.J. - it's difficult to know which version to believe. I don't buy the whole 'guilty conscience urging him to put things straight' scenario though, maybe if he didn't keep mentioning it every other sentence it may have come across as more genuine but here it becomes a strong case of 'thou dost protest too much'. Gilbert is to be thanked for some of what he imparts upon us though, he has assisted me in assembling together a few more pieces of the puzzle.

Until next time, take care and keep it real folks. Much love. Mwah.

Under the scalpel

I have avoided the surgeon's knife for twenty-eight years now, finally succumbing to the lure on the seventeenth of the eleventh month - a date that shall go down in history, a date that shall be duly noted and added to my list of firsts. Such a shame actually because it seemed like the only real record I had going. Maybe I have simply been lucky until this moment, or I was very careful and sensible as a child but either way I was untouched (sounds rather virginal and chaste, no?) and God's original creation, copyright and everything (rather religious territory I know), now I feel all ammended and surgically altered, violated even.

Okay so it is a huge exaggeration on my part, as always. It's not like I have had some major reconstructive surgery or some cosmetic enhancement, the term 'under the surgeon's knife' seems to be very synonymous with plastic surgery these days but I can assure you that in this instance I use it purely in a medical sense, no increase in bust or sculpted thighs here I'm afraid. Besides I am very anti all things plastic surgery, I just can't fathom the whole idea of letting a surgeon play God.* It's pathetic that we live in a world where people can just go shopping for a completely new body, a world where vanity extends beyond common sense, a world where it seems money can buy you everything after all. I am ashamed that fakeness today is celebrated and has become quite the social norm, that individuals are no longer that but just carbon copies and replicas of each other, whatever happened to being unique and different eh?

Anyway, enough of that cosmetic surgery rant, let me get back to the core of this post - tonsillectomy, that's right, I merely had my tonsils removed, you know, those spongy things located at the back of the mouth/throat area. Deemed utterly useless since they seemed to be slacking at their fighting infection duties, it was time to fish them out. Common procedure really. I knew the particulars involved and was absolutely prepared for the painful recovery process. I consider myself fairly brave so wasn't all that apphrehensive or frightened at the thought of the actual surgery, I was more concerned about being butt naked under that oh so attractive hospital gown. Horror scenarios flitted through my mind, I didn't want to do a Janet and accidentally flash myself to all and sundry. And the no make-up law had me worried too. No make-up? In public? You mean to say not even a teeny weeny bit of foundation? You mean to say that my face has got to be completely naked too? What's with all the nudity dammit, it's a hospital for God's sake, not a naturist site. However the most scariest element for a self-confessed junk food addict like myself had to be the not being able to eat prospect. A diet consisting of soft food didn't seem all that appealing to me, surviving two weeks without pizza, chips, crisps, chocolate and the like would be tough as well as torturous.

I treated myself to a comfy 'all over heart print robe' and a pair of cute 'fair isle inspired slipper socks', both from Jane Norman, as I was meant to stay in hospital overnight, not just a simple case of day surgery like I had initially assumed. The dressing gown is beige-ish-brown, decorated with white hearts and glitter in entirety. And it's so trendy that it has a hood so you can be all Little Red Riding Hood meets mean boxer. Whereas the slipper socks - that's right, slipper socks - are just a wonderful and, not to mention, absolute genius creation. This adorable hybrid is a Fair Isle knit of white and beige decorated with hearts, with the addition of a couple of heart pom poms dangling from the top of each sock. Fair Isle knits are huge and mega popular this winter, making these slipper socks very fashionable and stylish. Both purchases helped cheer me up and ease the anticipation of having to spend the night in a hospital ward next to possible nutters and perverts.

I wouldn't recommend reading the following unless of course you are extremely interested in the whole tonsil removal recovery process, am afraid it may get rather repetitive and bland - there is probably nothing of a wildly fascinating nature that will be presented here, just a glimpse into my fortnight of suffering, cue lots of whining and whinging. Don't say I didn't warn you! I was contemplating whether to write it as a general summary or in a diary format. The latter seems more suitable as the former requires me to be in a post recovery frame of mind, a stage which seems nowhere near in sight at the minute. Besides a day by day account is probably more manageable and easier to update so here goes:

Day 1: Day of surgery, otherwise known as D-Day. Had to check into my allocated ward at twelve noon which meant no food or drink from six hours prior to this. I had a massive takeaway meal the evening before, including the gorgeous and delicious Tennessee Toffee Pie. Oh how I could murder a piece right now. It was all very The Last Supper like. Spent a good few hours in the waiting room, secretly going all eagle-eye on the dreaded hospital gown that the other patients were parading around in, done in a very Terminator scan mode type manner I'll have you know. It didn't seem as bad as I had pictured in my head, looked pretty secure from the back. Went through the formalities before heading down to the operating theatre, you know, the much anticipated dressing of the infamous hospital gown (I whipped on my sexy heart print robe over it just in case, wasn't going to take any chances), the standard tests, the standard questions and so forth, you get my drift. Oh and my slipper socks got a fair few compliments along the way. Got my general anaesthetic at three, the anaesthetic person (anaesthesiologist I am told - wow, what a mouthful) was very impressed with my veiny hand, and the next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room with a sore throat, some bloke stroking my hair, and a clock that appeared to be somewhere in the region of half five to six-ish. Scary stuff. Almost three hours of my life I will never be able to account for. It's given me a slight insight into the world of those who have had their drinks spiked or have likewise been drugged to the point of unconsciousness. I can only imagine their confusion and frustration as they desperately attempt to deduce the events that occurred during that blackout period, I mean it's not like I woke up undressed, disorientated and covered in bruises in some unknown location. Now that there is proper scary stuff. Where knowledge is power, loss of control can only be the horrifying opposite. Yes, we all know I am prone to digression, anyway back to the recovery room - they continued to monitor my blood pressure, pulse rate and temperature whilst informing me that I would not receive food until the next morning which was a major blow as I was practically starving at this point and under the impression that I would be fed post surgery. I didn't suffer any side-effects from the anaesthesia, only mild shivering, and was soon wheeled back to the ward where I hid behind the privacy of drawn curtains. Nurses kept intruding in order to regularly observe my physical health, iced water was kind on my throat and although I had to demand painkillers, they were an important component in easing the pain. Most of my mouth was still numb but my main focus was to get through to Thursday morning so that I could calm the rumbling stomach noises that were making themselves pretty known, loud and clear. Gossip magazines and much sleep was the key. One more quick thought: I am now officially without tonsils - tonsils R.I.P.

Day 2: The day I can officially eat - yipee! I'm not usually a fan of breakfast but so not the case today. It was either cereal or toast, now I absolutely abhor milk in its natural state so cereal was off limits, leaving me with the only other option on offer - toast. Was slightly nervous about how my throat would react to such a substance but the toast was really soft and I managed to consume it without any trouble at all. After much deliberation over medication, I was finally discharged from the hospital. Didn't know what to make of their advice to eat as normal but was eager to get home, especially as the one measly slice of toast they had given me surprisingly hadn't exactly worked wonders for my hunger. I felt really feeble once I got home, and couldn't bear to do anything that didn't involve lying down. Sweetcorn rice with a splash of plain yoghurt was all I wolfed down today and much to my amazement it wasn't really difficult to swallow. I tried my regular mango juice but found it tricky to gulp down and so had to resort back to water. I don't necessarily care too much for water but at the moment I have no other choice. A codeine-paracetamol combo, and Ibuprofen are my pain relief companions, and resting is my favourite activity.

Day 3: Woke up to intense nausea. The pain has increased too. I actually vomited a couple of times too which aggravated my throat further and even made it bleed. The horrid nausea persisted for the most part of the day, and my appetite marginally decreased - even the thought of food repulsed me. I forced myself to some bread and cream of mushroom soup, took a good few hours to eat it, mainly due to all the queasiness, the warm soup however was very much soothing on the throat. I made some Uncle Ben's Express Egg Fried Rice later, via microwave of course, but struggled to eat more than a couple of spoonfuls, it hurt far too much. A few sips of Oasis Citrus Punch was a huge mistake and wrong judgement on my part, it burnt my throat no end - am thinking no fruit juices especially of the citrus kind, best not to stray too far from water actually. By the evening I was craving pizza, chips and pasta, I settled for chips, attempting to chow down some extra soft homemade variety, and believe me when I say they were really soft, they were like a step away from mashed potato, yet still extremely tough on my throat. Talking is difficult and painful as well, words come out very muffled and I sound retarded which is not funny but must be fantastically hilarious to those who have to listen to me. Have decided to keep speech to a bare minimum in order to avoid becoming a great source of amusement to others. There are comedians for that you know, let them earn their living.

Day 4: More nausea and vomiting. I figured it was a result of all the codeine but was in a pretty much catch-22 situation at this point - yes, being physically sick was probably caused by the painkillers but I couldn't wean myself off them because they helped alleviate all the agony and torment. Had a few mouthfuls of very soft mash with a chunk of butter thrown in, couldn't manage any more because I just felt so bleurgh, tried Uncle Ben's Express Mushroom Rice later but didn't fare any better with it, feels like I am swallowing broken glass. Even water doesn't go down without a fight. Eventually, after an ice lolly to soothe the affected area, I opted for strawberry jelly and ice-cream which was so much easier to slurp down and very pleasant to my tastebuds. I haven't had jelly for yonks, had forgotten how wobbly and slippery it can be, it's a devil to scoop up.

Day 5: Nausea remained but no vomiting - yay! My appetite increased too so I welcomed a plate of mash and spaghetti (the tin kind) which went down rather easily - double yay! Later I had some rice and indulged in some pasta. All very small helpings but still way more food than the last two days combined. Looking good.

Day 6: Level of nausea has toned down a notch. Am trying to resist painkillers but it is a fairly impossible task. Along with the obvious throat pain, there are also episodes of earache - this is to be expected and is nothing out of the ordinary. And sorry if this is too much information but have realised that today is the fifth day I have resisted opening/emptying my bowels, could be due to the medication or the small amount of food passing through my system or just the general lack of physical movement as I have pretty much just been lying around in bed. I have noted mild itching too, another side-effect, nothing worrying though. More strawberry jelly and ice-cream today, my throat simply adores jelly and ice-cream, it's effortless swallowing at its best. Rice yet again, later followed by mash and tinned spaghetti. Still quite a struggle to shove down my healing throat but one must eat.

Day 7: Nausea has diminished quite a bit. The pain is more bearable as well, in fact I haven't relied on painkillers so much today. Light at the end of the tunnel perhaps? Haven't felt majorly hungry either but forced myself to some bread and, cream of caulifower and broccoli soup - the warm soup is so appeasing on my rough throat. I used to be cynical but am now an avid believer of the healing properties of soup - I have been reformed people! Had a slice of toffee gateau later which quite literally slid down my throat as it was so super soft. Speech still hasn't improved much though.

Day 8: Bowel movement - hurrah! Although after much constipation I must add. Sorry if it is all too graphic. It was a trying moment but I remained focused, determined, undeterred and undefeated - how's that for fighting talk eh? The pain has subsided which means I am going easy on the painkillers. I also feel so much more energetic so it seems sleeping for long periods of the day has been abandoned for now. Succumbed to bread and cream of mushroom soup today, seems like I am getting rather accustomed to the almighty soup. And more jelly and ice-cream - looks like I have discovered a new dessert too. Supper was mash and spaghetti which I am becoming quite a fan of as well. I have noticed upon opening my mouth really wide, which I now am able to do, that most of the white bits that had replaced my extracted tonsils (I believe they are scabs) have disappeared - a good sign as it means recovery is almost complete - woo hoo!

Day 9: Have reached the stage where the act of eating requires no great effort or thought. There are still a few white scabs present, and my throat and ear tends to hurt from time to time but the pain is very slight. Stuck to bread and, cream of cauliflower and broccoli soup today, sweetcorn rice in the evening, followed by a piece of sticky toffee cheesecake which had been calling out to me from the fridge all day.

Day 10: My voice still doesn't sound quite the same, and my throat still does not feel quite right but complete recovery is nigh, I just know it. Energy levels have shot back up again, I don't think I slept once during the day, I have also not been heading to bed early like I was in the early stages, think my body is actually tired of sleep. I tried Uncle Ben's Express Mixed Pepper Rice which was a tad spicy on the throat but definitely not lethal. Constipation is still ever present. Had a plate full of pasta in the evening, and even sneaked in a few pieces of chocolate which tasted so heavenly after such a drought.

Day 11: I am stuck in a limbo of some sort, my recovery seems to have plateaued. I am only a step away from being a-okay but have failed to reach this stage over the last few days. I can distinctly feel the last of the scabs in my throat, am urging for them to drop off. Although it appears like my throat can handle stronger material, I am still taking it easy with good ol' bread, and cream of cauliflower and broccoli soup. I know I should pluck up the courage to switch to grittier, more textured food but am being a bit of a wimp. Had chips in the evening and a stick of Twirl - mmmm.

Day 12: I shall no longer bore you with this insipid, day by day drivel. I have felt like a baby on puréed food for the last couple of weeks but can now resort back to normal food which means hello delights of the junk variety. Have embarked upon my one woman eating mission with sandwiches, crisps, chocolate and a selection of pick 'n' mix sweets. Appetite has most definitely increased and cravings are ever stimulated. That tiny scab is still refusing to budge but is not hindering me in any way. Yes, my throat hurts from time to time but here I refer to my actual throat not where the tonsils used to reside. My voice is fine but sounds a tad odd to me, don't know if it's just because I haven't spoken properly for so long and am out of practice or because it has to adjust to all the extra space back there. Constipation is also easing up. As you can see, the recovery process hasn't been anywhere near as awful as I had been made to believe by many (read: liars) out there - days 3-6 were by far the worst, it was uphill after that, with day 8 distinctly being the beginning of the end. I have a couple of more days left before I return to that dreaded thing called work - the docs deem you unfit for a standard two week period not only as it is assumed to be the general healing duration but also so that you can confine yourself indoors and avoid any infection from germ-ridden people. Oh yeah, I haven't lost the copious amount of weight that the majority seem to do post surgery, I feel so duped, it's not fair - I demand a weight loss. Not a huge amount, a couple of pounds would be nice thanks, you know, as a bonus for the ordeal I have faced. The last couple of weeks have turned me into such a hermit (that's hermit, not Kermit the green frog puppet), time to be a social recluse no more, watch out world, here I come, after I order myself a gigantic pizza with some cheesy garlic bread that is. Ooooh, and some cheese and onion potato skins. And maybe some banoffee pie too, we'll see.

* Cosmetic surgery = surgeon playing God whereas medical surgery = surgeon playing hero. Got that? Okay. Good.

Shopping Fever

I am crazed and hyperventilating like some teenybopper at a Justin Bieber concert. What's the occassion? Oh, just that moment when you log on to your favourite shopping site and are greeted by a 'just arrived' section, it gets me excited enough to orgasm.

The following are all from Freemans, who should by the way acknowledge all the promotion I am single-handedly accomplishing for them - discounts and freebies would not go amiss you Freemans bigwig types.

Left: AJC Faux Leather Jacket - A sexy accessory with a trendy edge that completes most outfits. Cold November weather has only permitted me to sport this once so far, but even on that meager of a moment I was overcome with compliments from a variety of people who eyed up this jacket with awe, and quite possibly envy. The colour is cognac, a more fancy and creative way of saying tan, and is therefore neutral enough to compliment most clothing coordinations, just because it is outerwear other than of a black, cream or white nature doesn't mean it should be avoided or feared. The jacket has a fur collar, fake of course, which is not a conventional feature of leather jackets but makes the item more unique and fashionable, whilst lending it a winter feel. Those that are not all that keen on fur will be glad to learn that this collar is indeed removable.

Right: AJC Pack of 2 Denim Leggings - It took me while to embrace leggings but now I feel it's time to try the denim version of this lycra phenomenon. Bring it on, I'm ready for it. These aren't quite your regular jeggings - they are not as tight fitting. The material is actually a cross between that of denim and leggings which means they are rather thick and heavy. Think of them as a pair of comfortable, elasticated skinny jeans really. They are a great buy for those who are petrified of jeggings and its slim fit qualities yet still yearn for the fashion trend all the same. Plus you get two different colours in the pack. Sorted.

Left: Angeleye Lace Double Layer Dress - This white dress is traditional of the romantic style, with its delicate lace, and corsage embellishments. It's feminine and verging on the loose side, giving it a cute and carefree feel. I am always wary of white because it is harsh and unforgiving, what with its tendency to add pounds to your figure, and loose dresses either make you look pregnant or wide so when I first clocked eyes on this garment I wasn't too thrilled - at first glance it looked like a definite case of double no-no. However when I tried it on I was pleasantly surprised, it just looked so pwetty. Plus it made me feel all dainty and graceful. It also has an effortless quality to it. Yes, I admit the fitting is not snug enough for me but I can just add a belt to the waist area for a little shape and structure. Emphasise the romantic mood of this dress with like-minded accessories - pearls are ideal as are all things flower related, like flower rings and flower hair adornments. Colours should be kept soft, subtle and subdued, think white, cream, peach and pale pink here.

Right: Closet Beaded Shift Dress - Has a multi-coloured beaded neckline, an autumn-like print and a tulip style skirt. I refer to it as my 'peacock dress', no elaborate or intricate reason, simply because the colours remind me of the beautiful, iridescent creature. The dress itself has a lot going on so it is best to keep the rest of your look simple and minimal, nothing too bold or clashing.




Left: Disney Believe Pendant - Disney couture, especially the jewellery has been a big hit amongst the celebs who have not been shy to flash this cute and oh so current brand. I heart all things Disney, I mean what's not to love, it's magical, enchanting and fun. Tinkerbell is my fave character followed closely by Ariel and Princess Jasmine, so when I spotted this Tinkerbell necklace I didn't hesitate to make it mine. It's charming, adorable and the true essence of Disney.

Right: Disney Minnie Loves Mickey Tote - More Disney! I already have a Minnie Mouse tote from Eurodisney in Paris but I still couldn't resist this delightful bag. I mean look at it, can you find the heart to just walk away from it?




Left: Lascana Leggings - These are no ordinary leggings folks, these are jeggings in their purest form. Comprising of an excellent fit, consider them your second skin, surprisingly this doesn't immediately mean that they are uncomfortable, far from it actually. Maximise with a long top and a pair of boots to achieve a casual yet trendy look.


Right: Laura Scott Bootcut Jeans - I am a girly girl, I would pick a dress or skirt over a pair of jeans any day, I don't care too much for jeans, maybe because trying to find even just an okay pair is by no means an easy feat. Yes, I could quite easily renounce jeans. I tell no lie, I have actually been in the process of seeking just one pair of your regular, run-of-the-mill jeans for well over a few years now, nothing encrusted with diamond or Swarovski crystals, nothing intricately embroidered or sequined, nothing made from leather or snakeskin, just a regular, run-of-the-mill jeans, it's tough though, they are either too low-rise, creating a number of problems such as the muffin top and the builder's bum syndrome, or are too lengthy for my short stature, or too tight, making even breathing problematic, or too loose, which means you have to keep pulling them up with the added bonus that they transform you into Miss No Booty. All I want is a pair that hugs my shape but also allows my respiratory system to function effectively. This pair is a-okay, nothing special but certainly better than most I have tried over my last few jeans-deprived years. They are not skin-tight but still attempt to flatter the figure, and the cut is very boots friendly. My one gripe is the back pockets, they seem to be placed too far down, making the ass area look slightly odd. Higher pockets next time please Laura Scott.

Left: Laura Scott Peep Toe Ankle Boots - These not only have a trendy peep toe design but also display cut-outs on the sides, and are comfortable enough to strut around in, or defeat villains in if that is your line of profession. The decorative studs lend it a rock chick quality. They look fantastic teamed with a short dress or skirt.

Right: Laura Scott Print Top - This 'never too late to be a rockstar' t-shirt just screams attitude, and the black and white graphics create a striking print. For true rockstar chic combine this top with a short black skirt, tights of either a patterned or lace variety, and a pair of black gladiator heels or sexy ankle boots. Throw in a studded leather cuff to execute the look.



Left: Laura Scott Sequin Dress - Available in black, blue or silver, this party dress is a great buy considering that the ultimate party season is hovering just around the corner. The front of it is furnished in entirety with little sequins, I know sometimes an all over sequined dress can look cheap and tacky but this one is très swanky and stylish with a snazzy fit. For a more practical and versatile evening look, tone down the feel of the dress with black accessories, even a blazer like in the image. Jazz up with silver if you are in a more celebratory mood.

Right: Lipsy Full Mesh Skirt - Believe them when they say it's full because they tell no lie. It can triple the size of your bottom half so steer clear if you are already well-endowed in this area. Cream with a layered effect and pleats, and a black satin bow waistband, this gorgeous skirt has a ballerina feel to it, and resonates of the ultra feminine romantic trend. Fuse with a hugging black top to streamline the figure and create a silhouette, and add a long pearl necklace to heighten the look.


Left: Pinstripe Blazer - I have surrendered to the idea of blazers as a fashionable alternative to a cardigan or jacket. No longer just associated with power dressing and office attire, celebs have transformed this scary item of clothing into something more adaptable and wearable. This pinstripe vesion is a little longer than I would have liked but is extremely versatile - it is smart enough for work but can easily be converted into something more trendy when combined with either a dress or a pair of jeans. The blazer is pretty loose so make sure the rest of your attire is fairly fitted - a head to toe baggy look is not attractive.

Right: Shiny Leggings - I already have a pair of wet look leggings but decided it was time to expand the empire. Comfortable yet skin-tight, these are not for the timid or figure-conscious. Regular leggings are so common these days, so stand out in pair of shiny ones like these instead.


Left: True Decadence Pearl Belted Dress - Another piece that depicts the delicate romantic style well. Cream with a frilled neckline, this dress is sheer, loose and short so make sure you wear a camisole or slip underneath to prevent flashing your underwear to unsuspecting passers-by because it really is that see-through. The pearl belt lends the dress a distinctive feel whilst also providing it with an elegant quality. Wear this sensual dress with tights or as a top over jeans, and team with gentle accessories, nothing vibrant or overpowering.

Confessions of a Killer Part 1

It is astounding how little it often takes for something to trigger just a sliver of interest or curiosity in me. There I was flicking through a copy of Heat and what did I stumble across, a holiday photo of the Kardashians from many years ago, posing with a shirking O.J. and Nicole Brown, taken just a mere week or so before her death. Or should I say murder. I was like hey, I remember him, and that was all it took people, and from then on my obsession seems to have spiralled out of control.

I was around twelve at the time of the murders, maybe too young to have genuinely cared about the whole incident. That and I wasn't American so it didn't really affect me either. I mean I didn't even know who O.J. was, I understood he was a sports personality of some sort but had no clue as to just how huge of a celebrity and icon he was or the extent to which he was worshipped and adored throughout his nation. David murdering Vicki Becks would be like the modern equivalent. I vaguely remember my dad glued to the 'Trial of the Century', and can only really recall brief excerpts from what was televised, and even then those excerpts are hazy and insufficient. I knew that the general consensus was that he was blatantly guilty, and that there was much evidence that collaborated with this opinion, including something about blood and what not but despite all this he had ultimately been acquitted.

It was more than apparent that my knowledge was limited on the whole matter and so I turned towards Google to help fill me in on the actual facts. All the information I found was overwhelming, I was completely astonished at just how scarce I had known to start with, and I could clearly see how it was a trial that had everybody gripped, I mean it had me gripped and this too fifteen years later. I will not get into the specifics, most people either know or have a means through which to do so. I found this site very handy. Pretty much everything from a to z is presented here, and in much detail too. I was shocked to learn that it wasn't just Nicole that was murdered that evening, and that the evidence found extended beyond just a little blood here and there - all the evidence found, and believe me there was plenty, was without a shadow of a doubt wholly damning, and yet somehow, thanks to his 'dream team', O.J. managed to get off the hook. I couldn't comprehend how this could have been feasible, everything had acutely pointed towards the defendant, were the jury just a bunch of dense dimwits or was there something I was missing, maybe O.J. was innocent after all. My take on it all was fresh and I just didn't know what to believe.

The prosecution depicted O.J. as a jealous and raging ex-husband who struggled to come to terms with the fact that Nicole was moving on with her life, apparently he couldn't handle the thought of her with other men, this had been the proposed motive, a crime of passion they suggested. He naturally rejected the idea as absurd, and to be honest I wasn't actually all that sold, I imagine O.J. could have had his pick of women, he supposedly had a girlfriend at that moment in time too, I couldn't quite picture him as an infatuated psycho who was utterly consumed with his ex-wife, it just refused to fit the bill. At this point it was obvious O.J. had committed the murders but I wanted to know why. What drives a rich and successful celebrity to potentially throw away all that they have worked so hard for their entire life in a moment of madness? What had not only taken him right to the edge but had also completely pushed him over it? What did truly transpire that fateful night? I had so many questions, and that's when I spotted something that I thought may help shed light on the subject - 'If I Did It'.

It is an account straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak. O.J. penned this autobiographical text in which he volunteered a hypothetical scenario of the murders, you know, like a 'I didn't do it but if I did then here's how it probably would've happened'. You what?! I know, it's just plain ker-razy, in fact it's way off the ker-razy meter. But that's right, here he was submitting an insight into that infamous night of homocide whilst cashing in on his notoriety at the same time. Needless to say the public were disgusted and the high level of criticism received meant the book was withdrawn. However, the majority considered it a confession of his guilt. O.J. was later found liable for the wrongful death of Goldman and battery against Brown in a civil trial, and ordered to pay an impossibly large sum to the Goldman family in damages, blah blah blah, which they failed to collect, blah blah blah, and so the rights of this book were handed over to the Goldman family as compensation. Yes, they re-packaged it with a prologue and afterword but the main text remains unaltered and true to what O.J. had dictated and verified.

So what do I honestly make of it? In the words of the man himself, it "is a love story, too. And, like a lot of love stories, it doesn't have a happy ending". I knew from the onset that the source lacked the reliability factor but I still wanted to acknowlege his version of events. Yes, he glosses over the domestic abuse and paints himself as a patient and understanding husband, revealing his growing concern for Nicole's erratic and wild behaviour, and although I feel characters are slightly manipulated and exaggerated here, like a caricature version of themselves, there is also an element of truth underneath there somewhere too. O.J. elaborately discusses the passionate and tempestuous relationship he shared with Nicole which makes for an enthralling read. Although people firmly regard this a means through which to ease his guilty conscience, I don't think it was intended to be a confession at all, it's not a 'if I did it' but more of a 'why I did it', an explanation of some sort. I understand O.J. was probably furious at being portrayed as a bully and wife-beater by the media, that his once charistmastic and charming image had been tarnished, and I expect he wanted to put things right, to tell the world that Nicole herself was no angel - I presume this part fact, part fiction concoction was his key to redemption.

Nicole is illustrated as troubled, confused and difficult, showing strong signs of some form of personality disorder. I know this is O.J.'s personal interpretation and cannot be heavily credited but I feel aspects of his accounts are genuine and highlight the real Nicole. He mentions an infidelity on her part, and admits the separation was her decision, something he had not been keen on but supported as "she was adamant: she wanted to take a break from the marriage". Apparently the separation had been about "finding herself", O.J. claims he pursued her during their break, "determined to make it work", but ultimately knew the marriage was over and "it was time to move on" when his estranged wife confessed she had met a guy she was "pretty crazy about", he insists he never once romantically sought after her following this revelation.

It is when O.J. stops chasing her and starts to focus on his own love life, that Nicole becomes desperate and needy, bombarding him with "more and more frequent, even obsessive" phone calls, we are told her behaviour begins to interfere with his new relationship. There are various 'admissions' from Nicole throughout the text where she assumes full responsibility for the failure of their relationship, explaining she had become "so unhappy and so bitchy", that depression and loss of self-confidence had all been underlying factors to the demise of their marriage. O.J. is quick to imply that Nicole is solely to blame, indirectly of course. Not buying it O.J. - sure I can see how Nicole contributed to many of the problems and rifts but I can't see him quite as innocent as he would like us to believe. Nice try though.

It is shortly after their divorce is finalised that Nicole openly expresses her continued love for her ex-husband, persisting that she has "come a long way in therapy", that she has "changed", and manages to coerce him to give their relationship another final attempt, this is done on a year long trial basis. Nicole fails to successfully suppress her volatile personality during this period. If O.J. is frank and forthright in his description of Nicole here then it is quite simply disturbing and scary, especially the chapter titled 'The Two Nicoles'. She is portrayed as an unreasonable and demanding dragon of a woman. It is here that I actually began to sympathise with O.J. I know I can't just simply take his word for it but it does seem that Nicole was anything but a piece of cake. O.J. also remarks that Nicole was partying with the wrong crowd and possibly getting embroiled in the world of drugs - this, he feels, would explain her unpredictable mood swings. He further insinuates that the double murder could have been drugs-related. Of course he is trying to pass the buck here but it doesn't for a second mean she wasn't involved with illegal substances and associated with poor company.

By this point it was determined that whatever relationship they had was well and truly over for good, Nicole felt they hadn't "tried harder", that they "could have done better", she was still crazy about her ex-husband but he desperately wanted to distance himself from her yet was unable to because "if you've got kids, you're stuck with that person for the rest of your life". O.J. apparently grew increasingly concerned about Nicole's deteriorating behaviour and the effect this would consequently have on his kids. Yes there is no justification for murder but I feel this is partly was caused O.J. to snap, from what I gather he was trapped, Nicole was a whirlwind of crazy that he just couldn't control, he "was sick of dealing with Nicole's crap" and tired of getting"drawn into Nicole's bullshit and drama". The prospect of living the rest of his life this way probably took him right to that edge, and something that he witnessed that night when paying his ex-wife a visit probably pushed him completely over it. This of course is only my opinion based on how I have perceived his memoirs. O.J. declared "I wasn't going to let her take me down with her", she had become the root of all his problems, something he had to eliminate. I mean I don't believe for a second that he had planned the slaughter, something had to have provoked him that night but in hindsight I could envision how murdering her would have been the ideal solution to all his predicaments. Goldman on the other hand was just a case of wrong person at the wrong time.

The supposed 'confession' itself is very strange, I really do not know what to make of this hypothetical "night in question", even O.J. himself had no idea, labelling it "a very bad dream". He is rather generous with information yet stingy with it all at the same time. What we do digest is that he was already in a "lousy mood" due to further rumours about Nicole and her reckless lifestyle, and fuming that she "was making everything as difficult as possible" for him, especially in relation to access concerning the kids. Along with his companion, Charlie, he decides to "scare the shit out that girl", insisting that his intention had been to just "talk to the girl" - "I'm tired of being the understanding ex-husband. I have my kids to think about... this shit's been eating away at me forever, and it's got to stop. I want to get on with my fucking life. I've got to get this under control".

He approaches Nicole's property, and is furious to find "candles burning inside" and "faint music playing", "it was obvious Nicole was expecting company. I wondered who the fuck it was this time. I wondered if maybe Faye was coming over with some of her toy-boys so they could all get wild and dirty while my kids were sleeping upstairs". O.J. is "seriously steamed" at this point, and then who should happen to step up on the scene - that's right, Goldman, who allegedly "came by to return a pair of glasses" that Nicole's mother had earlier left at a restaurant he worked at as a waiter. O.J. brands him a "fucking liar", convinced that Goldman is not only the lover Nicole is awaiting but is in addition also here "delivering drugs" , she steps out in "a slinky little cocktail dress" which doesn't help matters any further. 'Charlie', whom I assume upon hearing all the commotion, comes rushing to the scene, conveniently with a knife in hand. O.J. and Nicole exchange heated words, she feels it is her house and she is allowed to do as she wishes, he demands not in front of the children, she comes flying at him "like a banshee, all arms and legs, flailing", loses balance and takes a pretty rough fall, "her head hitting the ground". Goldman meanwhile assumes O.J. is about to take a swipe at him and gets into a "little karate stance", "circling me, bobbing and weaving" he recalls. This angers O.J. to the point of no return, he grabs the knife from Charlie's hand and taunts Goldman "show me how tough you are".

He offers little detail on the actual physical violence, there is no gruesome description of the murders here, instead he explains "then something went horribly wrong, and I know what happened, but I can't tell you exactly how...I put my left hand to my heart and my shirt felt strangely wet... the whole front of me was covered in blood, but it didn't compute. Is this really blood? I wondered. And whose blood is it? Is it mine? Am I hurt? I was more confused than ever... I had never seen so much blood in my life. It didn't seem real, and none of it computed. What the fuck happened here? Who had done this? And why? And where was I when this shit went down?". Had he been possessed or was he just in major case of denial? Charlie, throughout the entire episode is the voice of reason, trying to urge O.J. away from the scene before he regrets anything (he was obviously unsuccessful at the task, flat out failed miserably some may even add), many doubt Charlie's authenticity, he would have come forth by now if he truly existed. I honestly don't know what I make of this Charlie character and the role he plays, was he just O.J.'s conscience, why did he even feel the need to create an accomplice?

What makes this chapter truly bizarre is that prior to it O.J. is unrelenting of his innocence, then along comes this section in which he strongly hints at his guilt but as soon as the chapter ends he quickly reverts back to maintaining his innocence. It's all very 'I didn't do it, okay, I may have done it, nope, I really didn't do it'. Does he even know himself?! I wonder if he was under the influence of any substances that evening because it seems viable and would explain his incoherent frame of mind.

I figured 'If I Did It' would answer all my questions but instead it just raises a whole set of new ones. It ends at his arrest and is therefore cut short, unfortunately we don't get his take on the trial which is a shame because that would have been nothing short of compelling. I guess I would say I am absolutely, ninety-nine percent convinced that the man is indeed guilty as there is far too much vital evidence to dismiss, including his odd 'confession' but there is that slight one percent that still bugs me. I guess I will never know what really happened but then I suppose the one-time legend and sporting hero doesn't know either.

I cannot rest until I study and investigate this further so stay tuned folks. I did say it had become an obsession, think of it as my new project.

P.S. I will never fully understand how one human being can just stab another in a very nonchalant manner. Okay so murder itself is undeniably pretty horrific but if the weapon is a gun at least I can get my head around it, you pull the trigger and shoot, it is rather like using any regular piece of technology. A knife however, that requires a physical motion, it requires great impact, it would take a complete beast to pick up a knife and furiously jab it into the flesh of a living being so that it is fatal enough to penetrate deep through the skin and into vital organs. It just makes me shudder, I mean I feel uneasy just holding a knife to cut vegetables. O.J. inflicted multiple deep wounds to his victims, it was not merely a case of 'oh my hand just slipped', he made certain that he mutilated them plentiful so that there was no chance of survival on their part, whether this was deliberate or just an manic act we shall never know. Either way there is no justification for the extent of violence he dispensed. A comphrehensive account of his deranged frenzy is offered here - beware, it is both disgusting and disturbing.

Playing God

Theme Hospital - it may not compete in the league of big cats such as Grand Theft Auto or Call of Duty, it may choose to dwell in the realm of the unknown, lingering well below the radar, shying away from popularity maps, however addictive and entertaining it most certainly is, and this cannot be denied. It is not massively technical or huge on graphics but maybe its charm lies in its simplicity.

How did I discover such an anonymous gem I hear one ask? Good question indeed. I mean I'm no longer as keen on gaming as I used to be in my teens and early twenties, I was pretty much a Playstation addict then, and no matter what, at heart, I shall always remain a Playstation chick, no Xbox or Wii can ever tempt me, PS is truly where it's at. I first crossed paths with Theme Hospital way back in the day, it formed part of a games bundle that I received with my new computer. Now I'm not into pc games so I just tossed it aside, besides it couldn't even begin to compare with the better of the bunch like Need for Speed and Fifa - it just looked quite cheap and vapid in relation to them.

Anyway, so one day, out of boredom, or possibly curiosity, who knows, I picked up this odd looking game and stuck it in the cd slot (sounds rather sexual I know), and found myself pleasantly surprised. So here I am many years later, my memory of the long forgotten Theme Hospital suddenly awakened, realising that I had two weeks off work to recover from my surgery (a post on that should appear pretty soon folks) I decided to order myself a copy of the game so that we could get reacquainted. It is exactly the kind of game you want to play when you are feeling pretty down in the dumps and bleurgh to the max because it's nothing too aggressive, active or intense. For the most part you can plod along at your own pace. The game was an absolute bargain by the way, it is hardly in demand after all, I imagine ninety-nine percent of the population haven't even heard of it and are unaware of its existence. If Theme Hospital were a person, I expect they would be highly suicidal at the moment, ready to jump off a bridge or sling themselves in front of a moving train.

So about the game then. The general idea is creating a hospital from scratch. Yes, I know it doesn't sound very exciting but you are basically given a plot of land and from then on pretty much all decisions are in your hands (muah-ha-ha! That's an evil laugh by the way, just in case you didn't realise) - you must build suitable rooms within the 'hospital' and employ appropriate and able staff. You move towards the next level once you fulfil the success criteria for the current level - this is usually the bank balance, reputation, hospital worth, cure count and percentage of patients cured. You must satisfy both staff and patients, this means staff should be kept well-rested and well-paid whereas patients should be greeted with a warm and clean environment with plenty of amenities on offer such as seating, toilets and drinks machines. Rooms fall under four categories: diagnosis, treatment, clinics and facilities - more advanced rooms/equipment become available as you proceed within the game, or rather as your research progresses. You can also expand your hospital by acquiring further plots of land.

There are several testing factors thrown in for good measure - earthquakes which damage equipment, epidemics which must be either declared or tackled efficiently otherwise both your bank balance and reputation will take a hit, sometimes there are only incompetent junior doctors available who must then be trained by a consultant in order to specialise as a psychiatrist, researcher or surgeon, there may be medical emergencies with bonuses on offer where a number of patients with the same condition must be treated within a time limit should you accept the challenge, those that you fail to treat within the specified time automatically die. There is also a regular VIP inspector who expresses to visit (read: inspect) the hospital from time to time, if they are impressed with the state of your establishment a cash sum is awarded and your reputation increases.

The only thing you can't control within the game are the actions of the patients. Although, you can move their order in queues and you ultimately have the ability to eject them from your hospital, a good move if they are on their deathbed with no cure in sight (yes it's mean but you ain't no Mother Teresa, this is strictly about money and reputation folks, if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen - wow, I had no idea I could be so ruthless and business-minded). Other than that patients are rather like children and pets - no, not cute and adorable, I meant highly unpredictable. Staff can be more easily manipulated - hired and fired as you see fit, moved from room to room as required, you can even get handymen to prioritise their duties. Keeping your hospital in great condition, tending to all its needs, handling all dilemmas effectively whilst constantly striving to improve and update should help you complete each level. After the success criteria have been met, you receive a letter offering you a better position with better pay at a more demanding hospital. At the same time, if you falter and stray too far from this very same success criteria, for example if your reputation hits an all time low or your bank balance finds itself too far gone in the minus zone then it is game over and you have to restart the same level again. Gameplay and rules are the same for each level, and yes it can get fairly repetitive. It is a game that you can quickly get obsessed with and just as quickly grow tired of. After all, building the same rooms, hiring the same staff, treating the same illnesses hospital after hospital can become very monotonous. It is a refreshing concept at first but soon becomes considerably tedious and yawn-ish. The term 'it was good while it lasted' can be applied here. Once it gets to this stage, put it down, step away from it, let it collect dust and rediscover it again a few months down the line, the novelty doesn't wear away pemanently.

This is becoming a long-winded review which is not at all what I had intended. I wanted to illustrate that the primary appeal of this game is that the player can assume a powerful omnipresent role, and like they say, with great power comes great responsibility. I gather the game is a great representation of the man above as an architect of the universe - I presume he too screams profanities when natural disasters like earthquakes target his handiwork, or when epidemics cause the demise of his creation.

So if you quite fancy your managerial skills, or would like to feed your ego, if you want to exercise complete control, or flaunt your authority, if you reckon making decsions are your forte, or just simply want to play God à la 'Bruce Almighty' then this little treasure should be right up your street.

What a load of lip!

Make-up (is it one word, two words, two words brought together by a hyphen - who knows?) is to women what oil pastels and watercolour paints are to an artist, some actually even believe make-up itself is art or at least some form of it, with the face being a blank canvas, and if that is indeed the case then recently I have become fairly monotone in this craft. I used to be experimental and creative with make-up in my teens (am talking silver glitter lipstick and blue mascara here, not in unison of course, well I hope not anyway, however I can't guarantee such a combination never transpired) but now I always seem to rock the same look - dramatic eyes and understated lips which means heavy eyeliner and lashings of mascara with a soft and subtle pink tinge on the lips for a day look and exactly the same but with the addition of a navy eyeshadow for an evening look. I know, not very imaginative.

Ironically though, my make-up collection is so vast that it extends to a fair few drawers, all bursting with a wide array of shades and hues. It's not like I shy away from colour and such, it's just that I have become rather lazy and comfortable in my routine look. Sometimes I will mix it up a little and opt for a different eyeshadow or lipstick but usually I just stick with my traditional get-up, it's easier, besides habits are difficult to break and die hard and all that blah. No excuse I'll have you know.

So I have decided to shake it up a tad - am ditching the thick eyeliner in favour of something more poutastic, am thinking bare eyes and sexy lips, and here is an assortment of lippy that I have procured in order to achieve this new vision:

Kiss Me - Rimmel Colour Show Off
Transform yourself into a sexy siren with this stunning coral red shade. This show-stopping colour should suit the majority, especially those with an olive colouring and those with a warm skin tone. It can be bold so keep the rest of your make-up minimal, unless of course you want to look like you are entertaining at a kid's birthday party. It feels extremely soft and luscious but be sure to prep and moisturise lips before application otherwise it can be quite unforgiving - highlighting flaws such as dryness and flakiness. It's also not all that generous with hydration, lips will eventually feel very tight but if you favour colour over moisture then this is your ideal lip rouge.

Pink Gossip - Rimmel Colour Show Off
A watermelon pink that makes lips look ultra juicy. I personally am not exactly mad keen on the colour, I mean it's okay, nothing of an outstanding nature though, just a sort of middle-of-the-road pink really. The shade itself is far more complimentary on a fairer complexion where the hue appears brighter against the lighter skin tone. This lipstick is from the same collection as the one above, and therefore I cannot stress enough the need to exfoliate lips by brushing away dead skin cells from their surface, and then moisturising well with a lip balm prior to wearing the actual lip colour otherwise lip imperfections will be clearly evident - a smooth base is a must.

Diva Red - Rimmel Moisture Renew
This is your classic deep red lipstick - think old Hollywood glamour here. It's a shade that every female should possess within their make-up bag, a fundamental component if you are aiming to pull off a classy and elegant look. The lipstick itself is creamy, intensely pigmented and bursting with so much moisture. It also adds volume to your pout, creating the illusion of fuller lips. Recreate a 1950s feel by accompanying it with a flawless complexion, dramatic eyeliner and fluttering lashes - make sure to skip the blusher and eyeshadow though.

Lily Extase - Rimmel Moisture Renew
A colour I can only really describe as hot pink. It's flirty and feminine, and likely to suit most colourings. I expect it is a great alternative for those who are slightly timid and apprehensive of a more brazen shade of red - it is not quite as striking as pair of strong red lips but there is still enough colour on offer here. The consistency of the lipstick is exactly the same as the one above, both being from the same range, so welcome a smooth finish, hydrated lips and a fuller pout. My lips tend to be rather on the dry side so lipsticks with such moisturising properties are an absolute godsend to me.

Berry Blast - Collection 2000 Lasting Colour
I have been searching endlessly for the perfect shade of purple lipstick, most are either too sheer or verging on the lilac side of the spectrum. Now don't get me wrong, I like lilac, it's such a pretty colour but I have plenty lilac already thank you very much. When I usually pick up a plum or berry lipstick I am always disappointed to find that it's more of a reddish variety than purple but this berry lipstick is actually purely purple and purple alone. It can be layered on the lips, so a slight slick of it will provide a delicate hue whereas a more bounteous slathering will administer a rich berrytastic colour. This lipstick is big on moisture and also adds volume to the lips. I apologise in advance for the snobbish comment but am honestly surprised to have found such an amazing item amongst Collection 2000.

Mudslide - Collection 2000 Lasting Colour
A seriously dark shade, it's like the deepest shade of purple ever. Much bravery is required in order to parade around in this gothic hue, many people will shy away from such a strong colour or feel too self-conscious wearing it, I love it though, it's so trendy and makes you feel like a vampy vixen. Probably not a good idea on a pale complexion as the contrast would be too great and very vampire-like, and let's face it, looking like an extra from the 'Thriller' video is not pretty or smart. Darker skin tones should embrace this colour though, it looks healthier on these colourings and also suits them remarkably well. This lipstick belongs to the same ensemble as the one above, therefore its texture and effect is alike, expect vibrant colour and a more voluptuous pout.


Happy colouring people!