Friday night: dinner(1) at Iguacu, and a bottle of rather sweet Riesling. I like my wine sweet, and I'm not about to apologise to you. M chugged it down like a trooper because I refuse to drink red. Bless him.
So I'm very out-of-it by the time we get home, yet M, being a seasoned drinker (read: engineer), decides he wants to go out drinking again. Apparently I'm an awesome girlfriend, because my response to this - whilst snuggled in bed - was "go away and drink with R, I'm sleeping, have fun, if she's hot I have dibs on seconds." Mm. All class.
He denies all knowledge of trying to wake me up for nookie at 4am by rubbing his painful stubbley chin over my boobs, of course.
Saturday: I don't think we actually did much on Saturday. Oh, went to Burger Fuel (tofu burger with plum sauce, no aioli, no peanut sauce) with R, who was wearing the bloody awesome pith helmet two good friends gave me as a Christmas present. PITH HELMET.
Sunday: Christmas shopping (M's, I just tagged along complaining in a bloke-ish manner and wanting to look in the electronics section). Saw King Kong, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Annoyed the kitchen staff at a Thai restaurant by inquiring into the ingredients in each of their vegetarian dishes to see if they could be made vegan (there was chicken in one 'vegetarian' meal, said the chef, so you bring it upon yourselves guys with your spurious labeling). Then M went back to the army (not before crowing at his own ability to change his car headlight's bulb) and I went off to a girly night, bruised in all the right places.

I can't remember the last time I had a weekend that was, like the one above, awesome all the way through.

I'm still waiting for NCEA to pay me. Oh they're so polite, those government agencies. Of course I don't want more than a day in which to do all my Christmas shopping, working on the theory that you even pay me tomorrow. Of course I don't...

Friday night: dinner(1) at Iguacu, and a bottle of rather sweet Riesling. I like my wine sweet, and I'm not about to apologise to you. M chugged it down like a trooper because I refuse to drink red. Bless him.
So I'm very out-of-it by the time we get home, yet M, being a seasoned drinker (read: engineer), decides he wants to go out drinking again. Apparently I'm an awesome girlfriend, because my response to this - whilst snuggled in bed - was "go away and drink with R, I'm sleeping, have fun, if she's hot I have dibs on seconds." Mm. All class.
He denies all knowledge of trying to wake me up for nookie at 4am by rubbing his painful stubbley chin over my boobs, of course.
Saturday: I don't think we actually did much on Saturday. Oh, went to Burger Fuel (tofu burger with plum sauce, no aioli, no peanut sauce) with R, who was wearing the bloody awesome pith helmet two good friends gave me as a Christmas present. PITH HELMET.
Sunday: Christmas shopping (M's, I just tagged along complaining in a bloke-ish manner and wanting to look in the electronics section). Saw King Kong, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Annoyed the kitchen staff at a Thai restaurant by inquiring into the ingredients in each of their vegetarian dishes to see if they could be made vegan (there was chicken in one 'vegetarian' meal, said the chef, so you bring it upon yourselves guys with your spurious labeling). Then M went back to the army (not before crowing at his own ability to change his car headlight's bulb) and I went off to a girly night, bruised in all the right places.

I can't remember the last time I had a weekend that was, like the one above, awesome all the way through.

I'm still waiting for NCEA to pay me. Oh they're so polite, those government agencies. Of course I don't want more than a day in which to do all my Christmas shopping, working on the theory that you even pay me tomorrow. Of course I don't want to buy presents for two friends, one of which is already late. Of course it's unreasonable to expect to be paid by now for a job I completed over a month ago. Of course.

Unnethe's Christmas Wish List, or, What I've Requested from Family and Friends:
A new-fangled Bendon sports bra, the heavy-duty one. Bliss.
New running pants (my old ones are now too loose, which is a good thing I'm aware).
A safari suit (the most whimsical of my desires, but oh so dashing with my newest head ornamentation).
An 'Ex Libris [real name here]' stamp. You try to keep my books, you die. Horribly.
Book vouchers.

Random Musings:
Sometimes I feel I don't know which way my head is screwed on, or what I want. I don't know whether to act or think about what I want first. I put past unsavoury memories into this pit in my head, and they become all fuzzy and blur a bit. The result is I don't know what I felt, whether it was valid... I'm sick of trying to work out what I want. I'd like it just to come to me, not the whole solution, but some direction of where to go. Emotionally that is. My medieval obsession still stands.

Body Advice Wanted:
I don't think I'm getting enough protein. I've been sleeping well, eating well, and exercising every day. But, I'm starting to think that's the problem: I feel oddly exhausted after I run now, not in a way that speaks of a lack of fitness (having run almost every day for the past 3 months that's not the problem), but in a way that feels like my body saying "hey, I'd rather like some more protein... I'm going to start digesting muscle if you ignore me. Oh wait I already am."
I eat about 1200-1400 calories per day, and I'm vegan. I can't eat beans every day, or I'll be both smelly and bored. I'm trying to drink 2 cups of soy milk a day, with some soy yoghurt, and I've increased my breads/grains intake. No change.

Ideas?



(1) I had a salad, sans dressing. Not, as the loud fat women at the next table loudly suspected, because I am a young and petite hussy with an eating disorder: rather, because that's all there was that wasn't all animal. Oh, loud fat women, your husbands were far more receptive to my entrance. Basically I just wanted to include a footnote. The make me feel funny in the right places.