Seven Deadly Sins

Greed What was your most extravagant purchase?

A pair of black suede open front lace shoes with a ruffle that ran around the heel.

*blush*

Give me a break! It was 'puffy shirt' era. They cost a fortune from a store in the Kings Road, Chelsea, London. We had a day off uni. for a student protest. I went shopping in my new shoes, only to inadvertently come across the march. Shamed, I joined in and my shoes fell apart in the rain.

Instant kharma.

Envy What brings out the green eyed monster in you?

Actually, I'm always green eyed and some would say a bit of a monster.

But really. Envy? What's the point?

Lust What or who do you lust after?

Ah. Now you're talking. Apart from The Janitor, of course, lust is currently something most closely associated with this person below. I tried dressing him up in drag and smuggling him in as my assistant reinemachefrau but nothing gets past the Janitor these days.

Anyhow, he is German. But that's okay. We just won't mention the war.

Anger What makes you lose your temper?

Typing this is and then losing it at the last minute.

Accidentally posting the photo of the Janitor in his birthday suit.

Missed it? Now you're the one with the anger issues.

Pride What are you most proud of?

Well, it's not the cleanliness of my bathrooms. See below. Seems Nessie has seen fit to relocate.

Guess it would have to be the babycleaningwoman.

Sloth When are you at your laziest?

Try right now. I should be working. Heh heh.

Gluttony What's your favourite food?

I seem to be a cheesoholic currently. No point baiting the mouse traps in this Janitor's cupboard. Mousetrap, Tilsiter, Brie..if you can pronounce it, I can eat it.

Worry about cholesterol? Haloumi kidding?

What about you?

Prada Prada Prada

Life is stressful, winter has hit.

Time to hit the shops for some overdue retail therapy and get me some winter warmers.

Are they me?

And please be kind. Don't pull the rug from under me.

Carpet burn is not a good look.

Thank G*d it's Friday

Friday night at The Janitor's Cupboard.

The end of another hard working week and The Janitor's away.

Time for us Cleaningwomen to play.

Anyone got a spare dollar bill?

Lordi, Lordi

This weekend was the Eurovision song contest.

And the person above in the latex is the winner from Finland. Saunas and latex? Not a good combination in anyone's book. Definitely don't try that at home.

Anyway, that's Mr. Lordi to you, from the group Lordi to be precise, whose song "Hard Rock Hallelujah" finally dragged Finland out of the 'nil point' abyss and into first place. Fin-ally.

No pun intended. After all, that would be an exceptionally weak one.

Well, okay, then. You got me. I admit to being that cheap.

So, hallelujah, indeed. And in the spirit of celebration, I have included a few useful Finnish phrases. Please feel free to use wantonly. You never know where they might get you. A free rollmop at the very least I'd say.

Be very careful using 'The Monica' though. Sometimes a cigar is, well, not a cigar.

Käyhän että tuon kannettavani saunaan?

Now I know the significance of this event means little to American readers who I don't believe have ever been unfortunate enough to be exposed to this. However, given the way the definition of Europe is rapidly expanding in terms of who's eligible to enter this competition, you might find yourselves included next year.

After all, the USA is closer to the hub of Europe that several of the 'European' countries entered. So I'd thought I'd offer a few useful hints of how to organise a winning entry:

Write a song with a silly song title

Past winners have included 'A Ba Ni Bi' (1978), 'Ding Dinge Dong' (1975), 'Boom Bang-a-Bang' (1975) and my personal favourite 'Diggi Loo-Diggi Ley' (1984).

Oho! Tota noin.. Eihän se vaa ollu' sun ajokoira?

Costume

Female clothing should be as non-existent as you can get away with. Alternatively, clothes should be able to be ripped off. Hair should be big. Makeup tarty.

Odota, anna minun ajaa se pois.

Only men with copious dark body hair, a penchant for a) kaftans b) MC Hammer type silk harem pants or c) gold lame should apply.

The Molvanian entry for your viewing pleasure

Molvania disqualified!

Molvania disqualified again!

And, my final Finnish offering. The Monica.

Mielestäni teillä on söpö presidentti.

And now it's goodnight from me and it's goodnight from him. At least I think that's what that finger means.

Phrases courtesy of http://www.kisa.ca/finnish-phrases.html

1 Is it OK if I bring my laptop in the sauna?

2 I'm awfully sorry... was that your ferret?

3 Wait, let me shave it off.

4 I think you have a cute president.

El pollo de goma 857-4953

And, no, please don't try and ring that fake phone number. I don't want some poor individual inundated with calls about chickens, yet alone rubber.

You see, I was reading this morning about the town of Cedillo in Spain. Apparently, it's so common in Spanish country towns to use nicknames that people can't remember anyone's real name. It seems everyone knows 'El Gordo' ('the fat one') but Juan Lopez draws a blank.

So the town has resorted to creating their own phone book based on the nicknames.

What fun! And a great idea for those celebrities who are adept at mislaying their phone books....of course, it doesn't help with stray sex videos, unless the nickname comes with a penchant for wearing masks and other paraphenalia of disguise during the act.

What would be your favourite celebrity nickname?

The wickeder, the better.

My favourite is "Three Strikes" (Robert Downey Jr.)

On a personal note, the devil in me expects to spend the day reworking my own address book.

Grumpys*d. You know who you are.

Blinded me with science

I came across the following mindnumbing fact today. It's been intriguing me all day and, in the end, I just had to share.

A cockroach breaks wind every 15 minutes.

Now, my question is, how the hell do they know that?

Is there a scientific study on cockroach flatus somewhere? Did they assign some poor PhD student to sit there with a counter?

And how do they know when a cockroach breaks wind?

Is it audible? Do they measure gaseous levels in a chamber?

And is this hazardous work? Do you get danger money?

Could this be a new career opportunity?

So many questions and, darn it, I want answers!

Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus...

and sometimes I think relationships are from Uranus.

Sorry, gratuitous 3rd grader planetary joke there. Had to slip one in sometime, right?

Got to hand it to John Gray. Men and women are different. I'm so glad someone noticed. And I do find his book very useful when looking to step up my fitness regimen a little.

After all, chasing The Janitor around whilst raising a heavy rolling pin can become a little tedious. Throwing the 'Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus' tome at his head works those arm muscles nicely and has the added benefit of improving my visuo-spatial skills.

Imagine my delight then to discover 'The MarsVenus Supershake.' A magical concoction of brain nutrients that supposedly lower stress in men and women and leads to weight loss in EVERYONE.

It doesn't actually say what those nutrients are but, hopefully, this isn't where the Uranus part finally kicks in.

But, yep, chucking a can of MarsVenus Supershake at the Janitor's head could relieve quite a bit of stress.

Apparently, 'It works because the ingredients are expensive.' Reassuring stuff.

Not just your old cheap tin can then. He's got me. Where do I get my first shipment?

A catastrophic mistake

Never name a cat after a goddess. A cat already thinks it owns you.

Clio, Greek goddess of history (modified appropriately for this household to histrionics), has already established the ground rules.

The kingsize bed, newly installed for the pleasure of the Janitor and TheCleaningWoman, now rightfully belongs to the cat. We are, however, most welcome to make use of the padded cat basket if we wish but please leave behind the European pillows. Most pleasing to her ladyship.

The laptop is not to be used for any reason. Work and blogging can go out of the window. The lid should be left open and the appliance left powered up because that makes the keyboard a comfortable and warm place to sleep in the afternoon.

Plants are to be restored to floor level. They are an endless source of amusement for playtime and a yummy mid-morning snack.

Cups of freshly brewed tea should be left out to cool before being sampled by the cat. Any tea left remaining may be for human consumption if the cat is feeling particularly benevolent.

And this is only day two.

Maybe it's time to buy a BIG dog.

Cleaningwoman in shock delivery

New arrival, small, furry and exceedingly cute. As yet unnamed. Tiddles and Cat ruled out. Suggestions welcome.

Mother and baby doing well.

Janitor demanding paternity test.

It's all Greek to me

No.

This isn't the latest family portrait of TheCleaningWoman and TheJanitor. Sorry to disappoint but we're not much into togas and unrestrained body hair. Although we are game for the odd comfy cushion. And that does look a little like a family beast in the right hand bottom corner.

I have simply been living up to my name and going through darker corners of the Janitor's cupboard.

Disturbing what you will find (and there are only certain things I'm prepared to share in this arena).

I came across a stack of old 80s vinyl. Elvis Costello. Soft Cell. Toyah. Thompson Twins. Orange Juice. New Order. Buzzcocks. Eurythmics.

And I could go on and on.

*sigh*

For those of us who remember the 80s, it seems I really was a funky chicken.

And that's where things began to go pearshape. Adam and the Ants?

*wince*

Okay. Guilty as charged. Yep, and while I'm having an afternoon confessional...okay, I had the puffy shirt, the feathers (now both safely reassigned to dusting duties).

But Demis Roussos???????

*unrestrained sobs*

I totally deny all previous knowledge of this item.

Can only be one culprit. And he knows who he is. And he will pay, believe me.

I'm thinking endless loops on Copacabana on his ipod? Heh heh.

Demis Roussos? I'm a funky chicken, not a funky baklava.

Cleaningwoman exotica!

Obviously I survived. I am somewhat gastrointestinally challenged though, so be warned.

Feeling a little under the weather (see? that's where the wind comes in), feeling a little ordinary. I need a makeover. After all, cleaningwoman is a little mundane, except when muttered through the clenched teeth of Rigby Reardon.

Wanting a more international flavour in salute to my non-readers, I massaged cleaningwoman through those handy online dictionaries.

Okay, so I have no life.

Reinemachefrau would be what you'd call me if I returned to my old stomping ground of Backnang, Germany. Tempting as it is, I never looked good in lederhosen even in the 80s.

Femme de menage. Woman of the house. See? Those French tell it as it is. Are you listening, Janitor dear? What's that you say? Menage a trois?

Oh, non, non, non.

Italians would call me Donna delle pullzie. And, believe me, if I ever decide on a career in porn, that's the one.

In Spain, I'm just plain limpiadora. While it might sum up my current fragile state nicely, it's hardly tempting. Unless you're touting viagra.

I'd love to be a takaritono. I'm always hungry, just not Hungarian.

Soujitu. That makes me sound either like a bad headcold or a stale piece of sushi.

Now, those wily Scandinavians.....

According to the dictionary, they don't have a word for cleaningwoman, don't even entertain the idea of a cleaner.

My kind of place. Expect the next post from a sauna in Helsinki.

From the rollmopwoman.