Jordan, eat your heart out.

A friend of mine who is getting married has been looking for inspiration for her wedding.

At last she has found it. The following photos arrived in my inbox this morning.

Behold, the pumpkin soup themed wedding!

(And no, the bride isn't a dwarf, she's just drowning in a pool of tulle).

She's quite fond of the mini-me flower girl.

I have included this photo just so you can checkout the bridesmaid's hem line.

And, don't know about you, but this last photo is just kind of creepy...

Creepy or not, the whole spectacle is truly, truly glorious.

Mental note to self: don't go to Michael Jackson's doctor.

Just when you thought Michael Jackson's doctor had Lord Lucaned us, it appears he has turned up and is going to talk to police about events that unfolded on Friday (or Thursday, depending on what part of the world you live in).

One theory, of the many that are doing the rounds(he's faked it, he's only 45% dead because that was all that was left of him and my personal favourite: Madame Tussaud’s is missing a waxwork), is that his personal quack, Dr Conrad Murray, was possibly inadvertently behind a fatal dose of Demerol that may have caused Jacko's heart to throw in the towel.

But just imagine if that is true - what would have gone through Dr Murray's mind after MJ started to look like he was no longer living?

'Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

I've just killed Michael Jackson.

This is bad.

Very, very bad.'

You know those days you have when you really wish you hadn't got out of bed? Ten bucks says Dr Murray had one of those last week.

Conversation in office.

'Hey, Student, you would have been sad to hear about Farrah Fawcett?'

'What?'

'Farrah Fawcett dying.'

'Who?'

'Farrah Fawcett Majors?'

'Whose that? The person who invented the faucet?'

Me to other guy in office, 'Are you hearing what I am hearing?'

'I'm not listening to him.'

'Who is it?'

Silence.

'Tell me! I will just Google it.'

Silence.

'Look! I'm just not down with your guys' old stuff, okay?'

Heh

Someone in Virginnia, US Googled 'bearded man in skirt' and ended up here. (Welcome, I think. And why? Or, is that a question I should stay well clear of?)

Not quite as strange as the person who Googled 'wombat sphincter' but still, it's kind of out there.

Bring on Twenty-four Hour Monopoly.

I had a call time for a job this morning of 5.30 a.m. which, let's be honest, is pretty brutal. And in the depths of winter, it is sensationally brutal.

Not only do you have to get up early, but you have to get up early when it's DARK and COLD. And you're really tired not only cause you had to get up early but also because you woke at every hour on the hour to see how many hours you had left before you had to get up really early.

So you could understand my delight when I got a call last night to say that the call time had been pushed back and that the new time was 6.30 a.m. Boo-yeah! I had reclaimed an hour of my night. An hour I had given up forever. And I didn't even have to fork out a ransom.

But the thing is, if my call time had been pushed from 5.30 p.m to 6.30 p.m I wouldn't have even noticed.

This got me thinking, if you were putting a price on hours of the day, I reckon the most exclusive real estate would lie from 2 a.m-6 a.m.

Pop quiz

You're being sent to live on a desert island.

You're allowed to take three foods, what would they be?

Now, I really struggle with this question. I (Pollyannaishly) assume that there will be a larder stocked with salt, grindy pepper, good oil, balsamic, soya sauce, garlic, ginger, thai chilli sauce.....yada yada yada. And if I am only allowed just the one, I'll take the salt, thanks.

But what foods would you take? When I ask friends this question, there are those that fall into the survival camp and those that fall into the what-would-I-really-want-to-eat-if-I-could-only-eat-three-things camp.

I was mortified when I asked my (at the time) nine year old nephew, and he listed water and two other foods that would ensure he would see out the next fifty years.(You're nine, surely you should just be requesting fish and chips? Cause your father would have, at your age).

Anyway, if you were asking me today I think I would take mushrooms (as long as I had the arsenal of condiments listed above), mangoes (as my sweet treat) and prawns. If I could go hunt my own prawns I think I would take avocado.

That's my three, what are yours?

IF that was my fifteen minutes, I really wouldn't want it.

Belgium teenager Kimberley Vlaeminck has been all over the news this week for claiming she went in to a tattoo parlour asking for a subtle four star design on the side of her face, falling asleep, and waking up to discover she is has been transformed into a 3-d map of the Andromeda Galaxy.

There's now a he-said, she-said war raging. Her tattoo artist is adamant that she asked for every last one of the fifty-six stars. (Having said that, he has said he will come to the party saying he will cover half of the costs of having them removed).

We possibly won't know who is telling the truth, but one thing I have to say, when your tattoo artist looks like this......

......do ya really think he's going be of the less-is-more school of thought?

Somehow, I think not.

I am the fun police.

I have some friends who're making a pilot for a new comedy show and they asked me to come down and tell them what I thought. They wanted another female perspective.

I watched the pilot, I laughed and told two of the producers my thoughts. I was about to leave when I was ushered into the edit suite, where there was another producer and the director (both blokes) who were asking me about some of the sailing-close-to-the-wind humour.

'What did you think of such and such?'

'Wasn't funny.'

'But that's funny!'

'Not if you're me.'

'What about blah-de-blah?'

'Nope, not funny, too icky.'

'Yeah but you'd talk about it at work tomorrow, wouldn't you?'

'No, because I wouldn't have watched it.'

'You've got no sense humour.'

When one of the other producers walked through into the room the director said, 'We've surveyed the prude audience, luckily they're not who we're targeting.'

Heh, it's official, you get the prude's point of view here.

I understand that I am stirring old broth, but it's a compelling broth.

I should really try and stay away from Awkward Family Photo.

But, gah, it's kind of like a car crash.

I don't want to look, but sometimes I really can't help myself.

I bet these two are wondering who was the bastard who popped them into the shrinking machine on their wedding day.

Oh well, it seems they are looking on the bright side.

Yoof

Got into the office yesterday morning and was told that the Student wasn't coming in till 10.30 a.m.

He duly rocks up.

'What's wrong with you? Swine flu? Food poisioning?'

'Nah, just fucking tired.'

'Just a sec', says the guy who pays his wages,'I will alert WHO! We have an outbreak of the Just Fucking Tireds.'

Move over swine flu, I think there's a new disease that's going to bring the world to its knees.

But where will be buy our LPs from ?

Two stories on the news last night got me thinking.

Dymocks Bookstore in Wellington has gone into liquidation.

And the last Virgin Megastore in Manhattan has just closed.

I understand it doesn't have much to do with the first story, but sometimes the side effects of this whizz-kid-cyber-world we live in really suck.

When washing machines go bad.

This looks like a normal washing machine, yes?Don't be fooled people, appearances can be deceiving.

My cousin sent me the link to the Trade Me sale for said washing machine. It transpires that this is not your normal, reliable, somewhat dull (but functional) washing machine, but Possessed Psycho Washing Machine from Hell.

I quote:

'It's the loudest most violent sounding washing machine I have ever encountered. It makes guests scared and children cry. I've lived with it like that for almost a year and it still scares me.Once while washing a load of towels it got a bit out of balance and it got so out of control for a minute that I swear I actually saw a porthole to another dimension open above it just for a second, there were dinosaurs on the other side and they looked scared too, it almost sucked me in but I held onto for my life to the deep freeze. It sucked my shoes and pants off though and it got the iron as well which pissed me off because it was quite a good one.

Luckily it sucked its own power cord out of the wall and stopped before the whole house went in.

I think it would be good to paint it matt black and put steel spikes all over it and draw demons on the front, however I have added an image of another possible customization option for people who like horses.

On heavy duty spin cycle it sort of sounds a bit like the tortured howls of 1000 undead writhing in the sulphury pits of hell mixed with a train with carriages full of scrap iron sliding down the road with no wheels, on fire, into a bell factory.

Thankfully it's bite is not as bad as its bark. It washes fine, completes cycles, does everything it's supposed to.It leaks a bit when it's running, always has.Its a bit grubby, could do with a wipe down, I refuse to touch it because I'm still getting over the whole dinosaur scare thing.'

If you're in the market for a new washing machine and Scariest Washing Machine on the Planet interests you, bidding currently sits at $265 and the auction closes on Thursday.

Further to yesterday's post.....

Yes, I will stop being immature and stop taking the piss out of other people's treasured family photos. But not just yet.

Today's pickings include the following family photo..I understand and accept that it could be argued that there are three generations in this picture....

....but somehow I doubt it.

And behold, scary Cat Family.

I have a feeling that photo is going to give me nightmares.

Play that banjo loud, baby.

'Tis a glorious day, people. A friend of mine has just sent me a link to a rich and varied arsenal of sensational awkardess. Awkward Family Photo has page after page of happy crazy sqirmy. And here's a wee sample. We kick off with the Swingers.

This brings a whole new meaning to the family sofa.

List of things to do today. 1. Get up. 2. Have breakfast. 3.Leave self respect in the toilet. 4. Pick up Pooh Bear suits.

'Now kids, you don't want to make you moma mad, now.'

Don't you just love how they've handed down the family hairstyle ?

But I think today my personal favourite is Sweater Family.

Alec Baldwin, I think I love you.

After reading many many recommendations of it on the interweb, I finally got around to hiring 30 Rock. I am going about it back-to-front as I am starting with the second season.

Oh, but let me count the ways I am now a little oinking pig in a pile of televisual muck.

I knew we were going to get on famously even before the titles rolled on the first ep. Everyone was back at work at the NBC after summer hiatus. Head writer Tina Fey (and writer of this ep) was welcoming everyone back, telling people she had a wonderful summer, that she did yoga, started a quilt, read two books and broke up with her boyfriend, but insisting that she was 'totally fine' about it.

She ends up in her boss's ( Alec Baldwin) office, and he tells her that basically she's talking a load horseshit, that there was no way she could be okay about her break up cause, 'Women your age have more chance of getting mauled at the zoo, than getting married.'

Gold.

I can tell already that me and 30 Rock is going to be a warm and wonderful relationship.

New fangled technology.

As the Fruitcake is currently looking at flowers in China, my father is fending for himself. He called yesterday morning, rather pleased.

'Oh and I've worked out how to drive the washing machine! But - bloody hell - that thing has more buttons than the first plane I learnt to fly.'

Friday

By midday on Friday I had drunk Moët, eaten gloriously decadent chocolate cake, oysters and whitebait. In that order.

And been to a funeral that had some of the most poignant, moving, heart-breakingly beautiful tributes to a life that I have ever heard.

I learnt a new thing today.....

...all icebergs start out blue.

Saved by the Hoover

I heard about this story from the Australian corespondent on the breakfast news this morning.

In a nutshell, a guy became trapped underwater after an excavator collapsed in a creek near Melbourne. From what I can gather, his head was half underwater and a quick thinking bystander whipped out her vacuum cleaner hose, passed it down to him and he was able to breathe underwater, just like the Man from Atlantis (except with a hose) until he was rescued.

When I googled this story, I discovered that 'cuum cleaners are, in fact, quite the life saver. Kitty, from Bristol, will attest to that.

Four years ago Kitty's owners noticed that the headcount was one down in the moggie department (family of four). It wasn't long until they heard some yowling coming from under the kitchen unit. They dismantled the sink, looked down the pipe and there she was,well, there her tail was, thrashing madly.

After failing to dislodge her with the barbeque tongs, ('Honey could you pass the tongs, the cat's gone down the drain') they called the fire department. Her future wasn't looking so rosy because they failed to get to her via a manhole as they were blocked by a wall and another crew, who attempted to get through the pipe with a mechanical hammer, also had no luck.

Until they decided to pull out the weapon of mass destruction - the vacuum cleaner.

They put it down the pipe, pressed the button and hoovered Kitty back to safety.

Anymore stories like this, and vacuum cleaners will be standard issue with First Aid kits.

Delightful minds.

My sister, the seven year old and the five year old have just been staying.

As I have a small house with two double beds, I was bunking with the seven year old and my sister baggsed the five year old. A tactical manoeuvre set into tradition by her as she is well aware that sharing a bed with the seven year old is the equivalent of spending the night with a wringer washing machine.

Previously I have erected a pillow barrier down the middle of the bed for protection, however this time the seven year old insisted that her life sized stuffed chocolate Labrador would protect me from her flailing limbs.

I am a such a gullible fool.

The next morning my sister and I were having a discussion on our respective sleeps.

'The washing machine was on a spin cycle.'

'The five year old was a magnet.'

Silence.

Then, a delighted squeal from the five year old, 'Mummy, you're a fwridge!'

A clothes peg to the eyebrow does not, generally, make one prettier.

I've liked this song Buttons * by Sia cause it's kinda cute, upbeat and genki.

She's been compared to Nelly Furtado and her live performances have have had described as 'enchanting' and like 'a child’s fluorescent drawing coming to life'.

But when I saw her video I was a little creeped out.

That was until I remembered being in primary school.

How many of you sellotaped your nose to your face when you were a kid and then laughed yourself senseless?

*Universal are refusing to let anyone post this vid, so you have to go to Youtube to view it.