Hayley's Life Lessons: Pizza Cutting

Yes my dears, I am binge-blogging again. no posts for ages, then a deluge of insights into the inside of my head. 

So I'm thinking I'm going to start a new mini series of posts on this here humble blog: Hayley's Life Lessons aka Things Most People Have Known Already For Years But I Have Just Learnt Recently Because I Am A Simple Dog. I think it might even need it's own logo or something. I'll do that sometime, honest. 

These sorts of posts will wildly veer between the mundane and useless to the life changing and hugely important. Alternatively, I'll forget that i ever started this mini series after 2 posts and that will be that.

Anyway, this first post is one of the most amazing, life changing tips I have ever come across in my entire life. 

Have you just cooked a pizza? About to use an unwieldy knife or an always disappointing pizza roller thingy? STOP!!! Think again! Get back to the drawer and instead pick up the scissors.

That's right- the subject of today's revelation is cutting pizza with scissors. Much more accurate and ridiculously easy, this concept had never, ever occurred to me before but the part of my life devoted to the cutting of pizzas has become so much better because of it. 

Just in case you were wondering what scissors actually look like.

Of course, you'll note my utter selflessness in telling you this knowledge when I have been banished to the realms of diet food from now on. No gooey, cheesy, doughy goodness for me. Now off you go, good people, and enjoy all of that time you're now going to save.

In Which The Gateshead Mutant Spider Puts In An Appearance

So, following my recent move to my new flat, I decided that a civilised gathering of a few friends was in order. Stop laughing, it’s not a typo, I really did mean civilised, not “completely drunken and debauched”.

Two of my bestest friends came round. There was nibbles, cupcakes (to be discussed in a future post), lovely lemon shortbread (made by my friend Joanne), and most importantly, Pom-Bear crisps. I am telling you, if anyone knows how to do civilised entertaining, it is I.

As my outdoor space is still a novelty, I had thrown the doors wide to invite in the invigorating outdoor air into my homely little apartment during the day. Mmmm, fresh air, with only a small hint of gas scent from the nearby gasworks.

So, after a lengthy conversation about tactics for surviving zombie attacks, it got a bit chilly, so i thought i’d better close the patio doors.

What followed was a large amount of panic when said doors appeared obstinately opposed to the idea of locking. After about an hour of huffing, puffing, as much brute force as we could muster, and a panicked text to the landlord, we decided to have a rest.

My friend Adriana was sat on a pouffe (yes darlings, I do have a pouffe) which was pushed up against a wall. As we sat merrily sipping our tea, all of a sudden she jumped and declared “something just brushed against my back!” Well now, when it comes to ghosties and other paranormal sorts of things, I am a total wimp, so I was all “Don’t even TRY to suggest that there are ghosties in here”.

Moments later, I happened to glance down to see a sight resembling something like this:

Artists Impression of the Gateshead Mutant Spider.  Not actual size. The spider was MUCH bigger than this.

  

Allow me to introduce you to the Gateshead Mutant Spider. Forged in the local gasworks, this spider grew to be enormous, with a special superspider ability to prevent the locking of patio doors to gain entry into people’s new flats. Clearly, this was what brushed past Adriana’s back. Honestly, I would rather have had ghosties. What followed went thus:

-I totally freeze

-Joanne takes action to cover the Spider with a wine glass (a Jamie Oliver one no less!)

- The reality of the terrifying mutant then registers with Joanne, who quickly retreats to the safety of the kitchen bench.

-We proceed to watch the spider crawling about within its glass enclosure, then decide to cover it all with a tea towel so it can’t see us whilst we plan our next move (?!)

-We then worry that the spider is so big it’s going to be able to knock over the wine glass and attack us all by sucking our brains out of our jugular arteries, or something similar.

-Adriana takes control, and armed only with a Ritz cracker box, manages to manoeuvre the spider into a trap.

-under my watchful eye, Adriana is then made to take Gateshead Mutant Spider as far down the street as possible, before ensuring that she runs like a bat out of hell back into my flat before the evil creature can scuttle back in before her.

Needless to say, Joanne had nightmares about having to try and lock my patio doors in the event of a zombie invasion, whilst i lay wide awake in my bedroom, imagining the spider tapping on my window and trying to break the glass. Since then, Gatehead Mutant Spider hasn’t put in another indoor appearance, but i am constantly looking over my shoulder, just in case.

Firewalk With Me.

Hi folks,

So as you may know, on March 8th, I did a firewalk. Well, in actual fact, I did three firewalks. I thought I would tell you all about how fantastic it was.

Firstly, why did i decide to sign up for such an event? Well, I have developed an obsession with the TV programme Coach Trip, and on one of the episodes I saw, the coach trippers went firewalking. It looked very easy, but rather fun, and without thinking about it too much, I thought "oh, it's obviously just a trick and not that hot, but it looks fun and i'd like to try it sometime"

Fast forward a few months and a spam fax arrives at work: it's an advert for a firewalking event in aid of The Stroke Association, and it's being held just 20 mins or so away. Well, before I knew it i had signed myself up and paid the entry fee.

Of course everyone at work thought I was crazy. And then they looked firewalking up on the internet. It's only then that I realised that actually it's NOT a trick, and the coals really are rather warm ridiculously hot at between 400 and 500 degrees celsius.

I raised loads of money from all of my wonderful friends, colleagues, and family. In total to date I've raised about £296, which is really, really brilliant. I think people were so stunned by my stupidity at signing up that they just threw money at me hoping that i would actually use it to get my head seen to. Or for a nice shiny wheelchair after my feet were burned to stumps. If you would like to, you can still donate to my cause here. It would be REALLY awesome, in an OCD sort of way, to hit £300.

In  the days leading up to the firewalk, I started having weird dreams, many of which involved fire of some description. One notable dream included a rather horrific fiery death for a colleague at work, involving some fireworks :-S So I think it's safe to say that i was actually rather worried about the whole affair.

On the day, I finished work early and headed to my parents house. They wanted to come along and see me perform this wonderful feat. Actually, my Dad did seem generally rather worried about the whole thing. In order to distract myself, I straightened my hair. Whilst doing this, I almost burnt myself on my hot hair, then thought "oh Christ, this is only 220 degrees." So then the next most logical thing for me to do was to paint my toenails.

It was only after i had a set of beautifully, carefully painted lilac sparkly toenails that my Dad decided to remind me about how flammable nail polish is. Eek.

Then off we went to the venue. And lo, in the corner of the car park, we saw this sight:

Ummmm.... reassuring... ahem.

Too late to back out now though, so off I went to register, leaving a trail of panicking parents in my wake. The man who registered me seemed really very impressed and touched about the amount I had raised, and even gave me a hug to say thank you.

Then it was time for a firewalking seminar by UK Firewalk. All during the seminar I tried to be calm but felt more and more panicked. I thought it would all be about technique, and meditation, but it was actually very relaxed. We learned about a few key points which are absolute musts for successful firewalking:

1. Fire connection- you have to know that it is a real-life fire, not a trick, and that it is going to be really, very hot. We were encouraged to go and hold our hands above the coals so that we knew that it was hot before walking. Apparently, if you tell yourself it's not hot, it just doesn't work.

2. A belief in a theory. You need to have some faith that it works, and that you're not going to end up with charred stumps. The instructor went though a number of reasons why, from physics to auras, we are able to walk on fire. It doesn't matter which you believe, as long as you believe in one. I went for good old physics, where the conductivity of the coal is less than your feet, so there is a delay in transfer of heat to your feet.

3. Intention to walk. You need to stand at the start of the walk, and know and want to walk across the fire.

by this time i was rather terrified. We all went outside and the temperature of the coals was read... 540 degrees. But, as the first few people did their walk, I got more and more excited. So off I went...

The pictures make it look much less hot than it actually is!

Now I'll admit it... I did rather loudly swear half way through the first walk. I actually wasn't intending to walk again but there was a bit of a queue in my way to get back to my shoes, and the longer i waited the more i thought "Again, Again, Again!"

So off I went again...

And.... again....

The best way I can describe the feeling is, that it feels exactly like you would imagine walking over a barbecue would feel like- there is a background rather warm feeling, with little pinpricks of extreme heat. But, by the time you've registered this, you've already carried on walking, so the really hot bits are constantly shifting, so you don't really burn your feet in the end.

When I got home, I washed my feet and they really stung as i was washing them. Then i had a tingly, stinging sensation for a few hours, as if i had sunburnt feet. But, no blisters at all, and no burns.

The verdict? I want to do it AGAIN!

The Great Phone Case Conundrum

Hello all of you lovely people.

For the past few days, I would say about 84% of my brain has been devoted to worrying about this big issue in my life.

I now have 2 cases for my beloved blackberry, and I am in a constant state of anxiety about which case to use at any given time. You see my dilemma:

One is sparkly. This is good. However it has no reference to cakes on it. The other is pink and has a cupcake on it, but sadly no sparkly bits.

My simple dog brain is overwhelmed.

P.S. I hear you thinking 'this post seems rather rushed, almost as if it is an emergency post because she doesn't have time to right a big post and she is away for the weekend so wont be able to blog, then she would be in contravention of the laws of Blog Pact.' You may or may not be correct about this.

Life as a Simple Dog

I was recently introduced to the wonderful Hyperbole and a Half blog.

This blog is the work of utter genius. It is so funny, it makes me laugh out loud (real-life LOLling is always good).  She writes so wonderfully about little stories from her life, its really heart-warming. And she draws fabulous little cartoon pictures to go along with them. Can you tell how much I like this blog?!

What I love most of all, is her stories about her dogs. So, she has one dog which she thinks is a bit retarded, called The Simple Dog, and another which looks after the Simple Dog, called The Helper Dog.

I now refer to myself as Simple Dog a lot. I so identify with Simple Dog that I feel pleased that someone else in the world thinks like me, even if it is a mentally retarded dog. The picture below, from this post illustrates the point perfectly.

I have a few Helper Dogs in life too, thank goodness. I am very thankful for them Case in point, as we speak, I am sitting around waiting to go on a bus trip to London. I have had to tweet my friend Nancy, who is probably my primary Helper Dog, to check what I have forgotten to pack, even though she is at work and has no idea what I have already packed.

Anyway, I'm off to sit and fret about what I haven't packed. But at least now you know what I mean if I refer to myself as Simple Dog. But mainly, pleeease go and have a look at Hyperbole and a Half, it is really so, so good.