I have a confession...

Hello, my name is Tigress and I'm a PhotoAppaholic

I kid you not.

And as many of you may know...I've discovered a new one: Facebook's piZap.

The hours are vanishing at an alarming rate! Now I don't claim to be any great whiz in the technological department, but I like to think I'm not too shabby at this lark. I mean the products of  my efforts are getting shared around Facebook in a delightfully swift manner so I figure I'm doing something right! And I'm improving all the time...I think. But I must say, it was a skill born of frustration!

You see, for the last 6 weeks I have hurtled around Facebook and the Internet in general, trawling goodies to share with my ever growing group of followers. And some have been brilliant! Witty little morsels, with delightful graphics, that would make even, Denis Leary titter. But others, to be honest, have been an abomination to the human eye: the heinous colour combinations, the inappropriate fonts, the text speak, the *splutter*....I mean seriously, the grammatical errors alone are enough to make me break out in a rash >.<.

So I thought bugger it, I'll do it myself.

And I have...but...

My sense of self-regulation is not the best. Remember me mentioning my having addiction issues with Facebook games? Well this little photo obsession makes my gaming look like a positively healthy pastime! It's quite concerning. It's the delightful backgrounds you see...and the delicious fonts, and the quotes! *quiver* oh the quotes! I'll just complete one little project when I think to myself: "I'll sneak a peek at some more quotes." And then BAM! The designing process restarts in my head and I'm screwed for another half an hour or so!

It's not pretty.

The good news is, I haven't started snorting and/or dribbling yet and am still managing to feed and clothe myself.

Though it's getting touch and go with the kids.

I'll keep you posted :)

The Sound of Music

Whoever said that smell is the strongest sense associated with memory obviously doesn't listen to music.

While yes a whiff of cologne can whisk you back a decade or two, and the smell of Mama's baking can remind you of afternoons with Great Auntie Suzie...nothing says "Hey, remember this?" like a well timed song.

Maybe it's just  a case of being more specific, I dunno

And movie soundtracks, I think, are the ultimate. I mean who can't hear the first strains of "I've Had The Time Of My Life" without remembering Johnny and Baby...the 'Lift'...the leather jacket, the whole shebang. Or...as has been the theme on my Facebook page this morning...listen to Bowie's Labyrinthine "Underground" without recalling Jareth, his crystal 'bubbles' and that most awesome hair.

And it ain't just the visuals that spring to mind. I remember 'feeling' torn between wanting to have the Goblin King's hair and wanting to marry it! It was an intense time I tell you. But after deciding matrimony was probably not going to pan out, I settled for replication...much to David Bowie's relief I'm sure.

And Ghost! God damn it that infernal movie nearly made me lose it in front of all my mates (Patrick Swayze has a lot to answer for!). I still get a rattle in the bottom of my stomach to this day at sound of The Righteous Brothers plaintively wailing their "Unchained Melody"! It's just ridiculous.

But the ultimate (and I'm sure my Eighties sisters will be with me on this) has to be dance movies. Who, ahh say who, can hear Irene Cara's "What A Feeling" or the theme from "Fame" without remembering how BADLY he/she wanted to be that damn talented. I mean seriously. And to shift a little later, Eminem's "Lose Yourself" always wrenches me straight back to the final killer rap scene where Rabbit canes "Clarence" like an errant schoolboy. I swear the skin-tingly awesomeness of that one gives even Chuck Norris a run for his money.

And so it continues today. And as a new generation has movie scenes, and the feelings elicited by them, etched into it's consciousness by well crafted tracks...we elders (or are we technically, the overall 'tweens' ?) can only sit back and smile....waiting for the first time one of our kids, upon hearing a favourite soundtrack song gasps: "Oh wow!!! I so remember that movie!!" 

Yeah, I'm looking forward to memories like that \m/ 

The finer points of love and such

Look it's a logical progression: Jam-making, Facebooking, Love. <---Yeah I went there with the capital 'L'. I've never been one to piss around.

This doesn't mean I actually know what I'm talking about.

I have done the research though. A further indication of how my brain works. There is information available on any subject...especially now the Internet is so prevalent in people's lives. But all the research in the world can't explain why we glance past some people who may very well be totally spiffy individuals, while fixating on others who will provide the ultimate challenge to say the least!

Is this because easy is boring? Is it something exclusively hormonal? Is it....oh f**k knows.

All you know, is that when you are in it...you are in it good!! Screwed I think the term is...well if you're lucky ;-).

So how do you know what to do? When to persevere with someone (from this female's perspective - a guy), when to say "Bitch please...you got a week", or when to think "f**k this for a game of soldiers" and walk away.

And you'll find everyone else has an opinion on these things; they usually do, when it is someone else. Oh if he loves you he's do this, this, and this. Apparently there's a code to follow, candlelit dinners to be had, gifts to be bought; proof to be given that they are not a cad and can 'win' your heart.

Oh piss off.

Guys get just as broken, damaged and screwed up (and over) as women do. Perhaps some of them could do with a bit of unconditional love and courting. I'm all for equality in this day and age...both ways. There are enough guys loading dishwashers and changing shitty arses now to warrant a little effort from the female of the species...and I don't just mean putting the garbage out.

So next time someone says to you "he's not worth it"...think carefully (I will blog about "love languages" soon...I am very passionate about this) and  look at who is talking. Chances are they either have suitors coming out his/her wazoo...or they have been cheated on. At the end of the day, the only person's judgement you can truly trust is your own.

Have a little faith

You are probably not nearly the dumbass you might think you are.

So how does this work again...

I felt like writing stuff again...but it's not Friday yet. Friday was going to be my blog day. Poop. 

Ah well, that will teach me for having so much running around inside my head...it has to come out you know or I could very well go boom. So you may find yourself putting up with me a little more often than I first planned.

You can handle it eh?

I must say I'm quite liking this social-networking business: projecting (or should that be inflicting?) myself upon the general populous one paragraph, or entertaining status, at a time. I cut my teeth on Facebook of course...as you do. After being hounded incessantly by friends and family...well a few...well one suggested it a I finally got nosey enough...I decided to go for it. As it turns out it's rather fun...not to mention I found relatives I hadn't seen in YEARS...but it was all good, they're ones I like :)...and in general my experience has been a good one. 

I should take wee moment here though, to elucidate on the finer points of my initial Facebook life...a life that involved...games.

Now anyone au fait with Facebookland will be all too familiar with the likes of FarmVille and FrontierVille and CityVille...and I do believe now there is even a CastleVille. It's pretty straight forward...you build and maintain either a farm, a frontier settlement, a city, or a castle...and make contact with others to be neighbours with. Seems simple enough...and it is. And it's also simple to waste three-quarters of your DAY doing it! I kid you not. I mean my dishes were piled to the ceiling but shit I had gorgeous cabbages! Coulda fed half a third-world nation!

Don't do it...just don't.

In the end I had to decide whether I wanted more chickens and horses than aunt Flo (well fed ones I might add) or did I actually want to finish the degree I was working my way through. Figured, since the degree was costing me money I should choose that. Let's face it, tending imaginary animals and crops is not going to get you far in life...though I must admit my time-management skills improved something wicked. You miss one of those quick maturing crops and things get horribly unfortunate rather quickly...THEN you need an unwither...which either costs you, or you have to wait for someone else to do it. Then there's the...

Wait, what? *Facepalm*

 Let us move on shall we

Now as much as I had fun making random friends as neighbours etc, I had to let it go. But now I have finished the aforementioned degree, I can get as distracted on Face book as much as I damn well please (and frequently do). I've been musing though, as I do, over the choices. And I decided, that instead of games or merely sifting the flotsam and jetsam out of my Internet experience, I should collect the bits I like and collate them into one area! Thus "The Musings Of A Tigress" was born.

With sweaty palms and baited breath, I launched my first brain squeezings and lo and behold people actually liked them. In three short weeks I have discovered lolcats, how to pimp and be pimped, and the secrets of kissing up to pages bigger than you!!

But now I've also discovered just how much I enjoy writing stuff...so here I am...blogging.

My daughter says I should get a Tumblr

This could be get busy 0.0

I'm not sure about this...

Sometimes, I know, I am going to blog about quite profound and meaningful things. Things that nip at our higher consciousness like a hungry Chiahuahua nips at the heels of its owner at dinnertime. And I will no doubt relish those times...but today, my friends, ain't one of them. Today I begin as if to create a blog of small things on an apparently innocuous subject that still managed to give me no end of f**king difficulty!

Now anyone who knows me, knows I am not the most culinarily gifted person. Sure, I can roast things and have been known to produce a half-decent cake once in a while, but as for the finer food oriented arts...well that's where things start to get a bit tatty. Thus it is still perplexing to me as to why, the other day, I decided to make jam.

Actually, I should be more precise; I ATTEMPTED to make jam. With a flurry of domestic fervour that would make Martha Stewart weak at the knees, I had a pot on the stove within seconds of deciding my plan. And into this was hurled (as my recipe stated) the requisite 2kg (approx 4 1/2 lb for those of you of an imperial bent) of plums and a bit of water...so far so good.

I was hopeful I must admit, standing there in my modest kitchen. I was thinking: "I can do this". And surely, I felt, fortune will smile fondly upon one so eager to extend her creative abilities...surely. Well after halving and stoning over 100 pissant little plums, I sure as hell hoped it would!

"Boil until soft and pulpy." the recipe continued: not rocket science. Hurl in 7 Cups of sugar: doneski. Simmer for 15 mins or until setting point is reached.....now this is where I encountered technical difficulties.

At this point, many an historic tale of jam-making woe leapt to the forefront of my consciousness. As I stirred my bubbling mixture, I recalled how, just the day before, the gifter of my current plums stated: "We had to use it for ice-cream topping it was so runny." Nice. And I was even more newbie than she'd been! But, I resolved, this was not going to happen to me! I was determined that my prized creation was not going to suffer the same fate. I would reach that setting point if it took all damn day....and by the looks of the progress so far...it was going to.

After a further 15mins I could still have piddled thicker than the consistency of what was dripping off the end of my spoon so on for another 15 it went. I'm sure I had a penis in a previous life for it was about now than I decided to actually read the instructions. Don't get me wrong, I was following the recipe to the letter...I had just failed to notice that there was a wee tutorial at the front of the section.

Apparently you are not supposed to have your "preserving pan" (WTF is a preserving pan??...Oh never mind) more than a third full.

Oh.

Well that could explain things a little. Let's just keep that a bubblin' a while longer. The timer went off, which I promptly ignored and it wasn't until I detected the slight 'odour de jamstucktobottomofpot' that I thought I'd better investigate. After a wee stir though, I felt all was well, and the elusive set-point may indeed have been reached. I tried the next test on the list and dropped some of my concoction onto a cold plate. Holy crap, it did all the things it was supposed to so into my beautifully sterilized jars it went.

I make that sound so simple don't I?

Do you have any idea what a bitch it is to get a searing hot liquid into a searing hot jar from a bloody great pot? Hence why half a jarful ended up spread across the stovetop. I wasn't amused. But I persevered and eventually all my jam went into jars.

And did indeed set...

...kinda like meatloaf.

But sort of raisin-flavoured.

*sigh*

It was not my best work, but it was edible...just. So long as you didn't try and spread it with a plastic fork.

*sigh*...again

Meh...I prefer peanut butter anyway