tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51880087143246350232024-03-13T03:05:53.819-07:00Lunacy of Ink"The composition of my soul is made, too great for servile, avaricious trade.
When raving in the lunacy of ink, I catch my pen and publish what I think."Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.comBlogger124125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-83542804688091381332012-12-20T08:44:00.001-08:002012-12-20T08:47:16.240-08:00Mathematics Maketh Man.
What disappoints me most about the child I was, is that the woman I have become quite likes maths and science. Why didn’t I pay more attention in school? I could have been a contender. Back when my brain was a sponge and I was receiving a free education, why didn’t I absorb all the wonderful things I was being taught, instead of spending all my time trying to subtly turn my shoe upside down soKim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-29124640851435672712012-12-18T12:28:00.003-08:002012-12-19T03:13:05.799-08:00Our Song
All loved up and mushy couples have a song, right? Ain’t that the epitome of romance, the day you secure an ‘our song’?
I used to think When A Man Loves A Woman would be my Our Song one day when I was older. Then Meg Ryan made a film of the same name and seeing as she was an alcoholic who was always getting herself in trouble, while her ever-adoring husband supported and loved her, maybe not. Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-67796772209119550522012-12-05T04:08:00.000-08:002012-12-05T06:35:44.835-08:00The Great British Boycott
I never used to pay much attention to ethics, shopping as I did for what I wanted, when I wanted it. Then I met my cleverest friend, who was taking a masters in international development when I was sitting around, unemployed, smoking dope. She is very clever about things I don’t understand, and she patiently tried to teach me that my pound was powerful and I should make choices based on a Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-64343487826575396292012-11-20T01:50:00.002-08:002012-11-20T07:01:57.872-08:00Obama's Dramas
Barack Obama, the fly-swatting, basketball hoop-shooting leader of the free world, has Beyonce going gaga and Gaga in glee at his re-election, while Sarah Jessica Parker wore an Obama T-shirt and Eva Longoria cried.
Although, it might have been a tear shed at the realisation that now, the whole world knows she has posters of her own films up in her sitting room.
Oh, what, this old Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-686747984073043782012-11-01T12:05:00.000-07:002012-11-20T06:37:05.501-08:00Honeymoon OlympicsI’m sure some readers might think I’ve been banging on about marriage for a while now. This will be my last post on wedding related matters, before I return to life as the gin-drinking, mistake-making moron you all know and love.
On the hen do, I was struck by luck - all non-competitive invitees were willing to put aside their aversions to competitive sports long enough to spend a weekend Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-82698635749928543522012-11-01T11:34:00.001-07:002012-11-02T03:28:07.391-07:00Goodbye Wedding, Hello Marriage.Well I would absolutely definitely categorically recommend getting married.
Not only did all our lovely loved ones flock to the Isle Of Wight especially, but they all showered us in love and approval and everything one needs in order to be stood in good stead for a lifetime of matrimony.
At 7am on the morning of our wedding, Gareth and I went for a run. A run which we had announced on Facebook Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-57481765060531060622012-09-05T03:40:00.000-07:002012-09-05T05:01:48.719-07:00Hen DOOOOOO!
Girls are great, aren’t they? I have certainly realised so, after a shaky start.
When I was a teenage dirtbag, I used to think girls were boring. I preferred the company of boys. The banter was better, they liked drinking and pretending to be Jack Bauer. I didn’t think I was missing out on anything by not being friends with girls.
At one point, I only had one girl’s phone number in my Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-9274071297514577222012-08-28T06:10:00.000-07:002012-08-29T01:38:11.130-07:00What a tangled web we wee.
Went to see Michelle Williams's new film the other day, Take This Waltz.
Take this schmaltz, more like. By the end of it, I wanted to climb into the film and throttle the lead character, while yelling 'strap on a pair!' She says 'I wuv you' to her long suffering husband, for god's sake. I mean, what a dick. It's pronounced love, you're not six years old, you don't have a speech impediment and Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-70780284945915703592012-08-20T03:37:00.000-07:002012-08-20T05:16:02.900-07:00Our marital hootenany
Here is a picture of page 43 in Grazia this week. Owls. Owls everywhere. Owls in fashion. Owls on T shirts, owls on Kate Bosworth, owl earrings and owl belts. Twit twoo, you might think, that’s a nice T shirt. Going to get me one of those. Not I. I am not happy.
Usually I’m delighted to be accidentally in fashion. A pair of wedges I bought in Clarks recently were featured in Bella magazine a Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-81070436506803774762012-08-07T07:54:00.001-07:002012-08-08T01:37:45.715-07:00Strangers on a train
When was the last time you had a stranger sleep in your house? A one night stand? A party so kerrr-azy it was gatecrashed by people you didn't know?
I can't remember the last time for me - probably because the party was so epic. But the point is, it's been years.
Well, it had been years, until a few nights ago. Now it's just been three days.
For her own sake, I'll call my friend A Nonny Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-91468251041791495422012-07-30T03:50:00.002-07:002012-07-30T03:51:44.432-07:00Cosmo Blog Awards.
I have some news and it's pretty ruddy terrific. I have been nominated in the lifestyle category of the Cosmo Blog Awards 2012, for this very blog, the one you are reading right now with your beautiful eyes.
It's just about the greatest thing in the world, don't you agree? But rather than just salute myself, say 'thanks for your vote' and move on, I thought I'd tell you a little story about Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-8995181105364630322012-07-26T07:44:00.000-07:002012-07-26T10:46:41.073-07:00The King and I.
Ah… the Olympics. What a jolly exciting time.
For those Brits lucky enough to be in the thick of it, it'll be an Olympics to remember forever. For me, it's old hat. It's not my first Olympics, you see. And I'm far less involved in the London Olympics than I was in the Sydney Olympics. While some of you saved lives and built villages on your gap yarrrrs, I pulled some strings and got Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-72464426354388545432012-07-18T06:13:00.000-07:002012-07-18T06:18:22.821-07:00Diary of a wimpy kid.
My name is Kim and I'm a wet blanket. A wuss. A scaredy cat.
I don't know why. Or when it started. But somewhere along the line, I've become a big girl's blouse.
Let's say that you've just asked me if I want to do a bungee jump. Cue mild sweats, fast thinking ways to avoid the situation, and notes to self never to answer the phone to you again.
Or maybe you've got a really good idea for Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-77528860713205381622012-07-17T04:53:00.000-07:002012-07-17T04:53:56.591-07:00Cruise Control
Katie Holmes and I have a lot in common. We've both got brown hair, we're both taller than our men in heels. (That's us in heels, not our men in heels.) Both been touched by Scientology. I was wandering up Oxford Street a few years back. Minding my own business, probably laden down with ill advised purchases that I wore once then gave to charity. I do like to do my bit for charity. Not so good Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-44329402506108792782012-07-13T01:07:00.000-07:002012-07-18T04:53:19.991-07:0050 shades
50 shades of this, 50 shades of that… No, I haven't read it. No, I'm not going to. In my blissful state of ignorance, I'm going to write about it instead. Without having any idea what I'm talking about. I jump on enough band wagons as it is (skinny jeans. Ballet pumps. Crush on Channing Tatum. Chai tea. Actually I like to think I started the last one) but this wagon has way too many band Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-37002789398431323582012-07-03T06:37:00.001-07:002012-07-04T00:01:16.375-07:00Paper. Well and truly Chased.
Ever wondered how long it takes to walk around the flagship Paperchase store? It's three floors high, people. And when you are absorbing every nook and cranny, like some kind of slow-mo Supermarket Sweep, it takes two hours, twenty two minutes.
I'm a very good shopper. I've been shopping my whole life. Honed my craft, perfected my skills. I know how to navigate every aisle so as to avoid Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-12894360900988370022012-06-25T01:23:00.001-07:002012-06-25T01:23:25.749-07:00The league of extraordinary badminton players
Gaz and I have been developing a serious crush on badminton for a while now. To start with, he used to play with his friend Adam, because I thought it looked boring. Then I had a go. Hello, competitive sport! Should have known I was going to love it - not to mention be awesome at it.
So, Adam got ousted to make way for big brawny Kim, the most competitive girl on the pitch. Or field. Whatever Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-26645264416788158952012-06-20T01:16:00.002-07:002012-06-20T01:16:50.164-07:00Brillo.
I find if I’m trying really hard not to do something, I’m all the
more likely to do it. It’s like my brain likes to toy with me. My
thoughts are saying ‘Don’t say she looks like Dawn French, don’t say she
looks like Dawn French,’ and then my mouth says: ‘You look just like
Dawn French!’
Ah, damage done. Well done brain, one to you.
And
so it was when Nicola, my partner in crime and Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-90719977590197782622012-06-19T03:58:00.001-07:002012-06-19T04:00:06.419-07:00Ship Shape and Bristol Fashion
It was at the checkout in Sainsbury’s when I said to my mother in my loud voice: ‘Do you want me to get a mop so you can mop my floors?’ that I realised some people might not get my mother’s relationship with cleaning things. The checkout girl looked at me incredulously, to judge the spoiled little brat that I surely was. But the thing is, Mum happens to thoroughly enjoy cleaning. It’s a trait Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-64523878508529815242012-06-15T02:54:00.001-07:002012-06-15T03:07:27.885-07:00Water good way to save our marriage.
Good news! I’ve just saved my marriage, before it’s even begun. Because they do say it’s the little things that end up destroying relationships. I don’t see either of us ever cheating or anything big like that, but my god, I can see Gareth’s inability to wash the leftover Muesli off his bowl before it sets and hardens as legitimate divorce fodder.
And so it was, that I just saved our Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-35105721349026773642012-06-11T03:47:00.001-07:002012-06-11T03:47:51.411-07:00Sight for sore eyes
Some of you may be wondering how my life has been panning out since I exchanged the TV for 20 scratch cards… on which I won nothing. It may seem like a strange exchange of goods, but really, it was apt. You don’t win anything when you watch TV either, except maybe a numb bottom and a glazed eye or two. At least scratch cards give you an element of hope. My eyes are never glazed when I’m Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-84840786521579472062012-06-01T09:03:00.000-07:002012-06-01T09:04:34.276-07:00I've Gok One.A stereotypical ten year old girl has lots of pretty dresses and dives into her mum’s make up bag to start experimenting with different shades of lipstick, or something cliched like that, right? Not me. I was dragging my blind sister up trees, pretending my bike was a horse while jumping over broom handles, and having absolutely no clue whatsoever about clothes.
I did have a yearning to be Kim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-31433958747526188622012-05-30T03:55:00.000-07:002012-06-01T00:00:35.571-07:00This. Means. War.Not many people know this about me, it’s not like I harp on about it all the time but I was, literally, born to have a good tan. Mongolian Blue Spot, they call it, and it’s a real thing, you can google it. It appears like a birthmark upon arrival into this world, and is mostly seen on the bums of Native Americans, Polynesians and Asians. But the really exciting anomaly is when it appears on whiteKim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-68989267195443713182012-05-25T08:39:00.002-07:002012-06-01T00:02:36.129-07:00The KKK... (aka Kim's Krush On Kate)
Hi Kate,
You may remember me, I wrote to you when you got mazzered last April - thanks for the extra day off by the way.
I thought it high time I write in again. Check up on you. Are you well?
Are you eating? You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who eats. I
have a funny feeling there is a media embargo on publications discussing
your weight, as although there’s a new picture of you inKim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188008714324635023.post-51436243960899577982012-05-08T10:19:00.000-07:002012-06-01T00:03:22.615-07:00Brussels Vs Brussels
I did not realise when I decided to go to Brussels to visit some friends, that Brussels would be competing against Brussels, as I had quite blocked out that I had been there once before. It was only as we stepped out of the Eurostar, or ‘Le Eurostar’ as I like to call it, that I was hit with a sudden feeling of familiarity. And not of the good kind. Because last time I was in Brussels, I was inKim Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15004038000570592641noreply@blogger.com0