"Strong, like Angelina Jolie"

This, bizarrely, is how my colleagues Kayoko & Mary chose to describe me earlier today.

After a skeptically raised eyebrow (from me) and some hints from them on how to perfect my "Jolie-ness" (pout over my shoulder and get breast implants), I chose to take it as a compliment and move on with the day. Really, I can't think of many people I am less like than old Ange. Plus, I am fairly sure she isn't that "strong", though I wouldn't say that to her face.

In retrospect I was clearly having a foxy day. My erstwhile (temporarily) cooking buddy, Sam, dropped by on a break from rehearsing her new play and told me I was looking sexy, which I can only put down to looking knackered. I have no idea why, but apparently looking shattered works for me - I swear I have most often been chatted up/hit on whilst I, personally, think I look like crap warmed up. Ho hum. Good thing I was so stupendously sleep deprived at our civil union, I must have looked like a goddess.

OTHER NEWS - Gertie has kennel cough. Word on the street (ie Julia from dog day care) is that there is kennel cough outbreak sweeping through Wellington's canine population, though I am pretty sure G only has a mild dose so we haven't bothered to go to the vet for antibiotics. So far, it's just been a few wheezy hacks and some heavy sleeping.

The only other vaguely interesting thing that happened is getting bastard sunburn on the first sunny day for ages. Oh, and we've booked a week's holiday in Vanuatu next month.

Dull, huh?