Category Archives: Shabby Shit

I have done it.

So I went to my client’s event and loved it. Every minute of it.

But the way there …

It all started at home, of course.

My two-weeks-ago-carefully-put-together outfit fell out due to one fact I had ignored when doing the sartorial maths. Luckily, I conjured the next outfit on the spot, as you would, and I still had enough time to check it out. Unluckily, the second outfit wasn’t good enough, either. I did tell you I had nothing to wear?!?!

Like in a fairy tale, it was the third outfit, born out of necessity (aka 5 minutes to go) that was good enough and made me feel well, so off I went.

Only to find myself in an old train half an hour later, wondering whether the 3 guys next to me were going to drink all that beer and what the strap of my brand new bag was doing down there. They didn’t, they were rather nice while sipping their beer, and the strap had gotten somehow detached from the bag – without my help.That something like this should happen!

So now what? What now so? Now what so?

Ahhh, my brain cell went, you have some safety pins in your kaputted bag – use them. So I did. The bag lasted till I made the first few steps in the small town I had been headed to.

Do you know Karstadt? It’s one of those warehouses that are going to be abolished because we all shop cheap things online these days (like bags). Anyway, there was a Karstadt near the venue I was headed for and they sold me a most lovely bag within minutes, made all the sympathetic noises while I told them about my stupid old bag, didn’t wince when I used their surfaces to empty the old bag and fill the new one and wished me a nice evening.

I threw away the old bag, what else and had myself a nice evening.


Zakaj sem toaletni papir vrgla v smeti.

Ker je smrdel, jasno.

Resda bi bilo bolje, če bi že v trgovini opazila, da toaletni papir po znižani ceni oglašujejo kot prijetno dišeč, vendar na to možnost pač nisem pomislila in nisem brala opisov na embalaži. Zanima me samo število plasti (4): ste res mislili, da prevajalci beremo opise izdelkov in navodila za njihovo uporabo?

Pri poceni papirju sem si privoščila pomoto kljub temu, da že dlje časa kolnem proizvajalce in prodajalce higienskih vložkov, ker mi na vso silo hočejo zasmraditi življenje: imam občutljiv nos in kar je njim dišava, je meni obupen smrad. Skrajni čas bo za menopavzo, se mi zdi. Ali pa za drage vložke od biokmeta, dobavljene še pred sedmo uro zjutraj.

Predstavljajte si, da je v manjšem kraju v nedeljo ena taka fajn prireditev, dan je lep in sončen, sprehajate se med stojnicami in ves čas vam pod nos sili tako imenovana dišava iz toaletnega papirja. Vaša prva misel je, da morate domov in pod tuš, potem pa ugotovite, da isti smrad oddajajo tudi drugi obiskovalci prireditve. Seveda: en sam večji prodajalec na vasi, ista posebna ponudba, veliko kupcev. Veliko smradu.

Ljeh. – – –

“Mal je čuden,” pravi moja frizerka, “ne maramo ga preveč, ker se nam prilizuje na tako ogaben način.”

Stranke se smejimo, medtem ko Hairkillerki oponašata vedenje njihovega novega svetovalca za marketing.

“Upam, da vam ne bo treba te sluzljave vsiljivosti po novem oponašati?” sem malce zaskrbljena.

“Ma ne, po novem moramo strankam pogosteje svetovati, kaj bi še lahko naredile z lasmi oziroma kaj še ponujamo pri nas. To mi ni všeč, ta vsiljivost, če kdo hoče kaj posebnega, nam bo že povedal.”

Moja najljubša vrsta frizerke. Če kaj hočem, bom že rekla, če imam vprašanje, ga bom zastavila, drugače pa bi samo rada striženje v miru.

“In, ti je všeč?”

“Jaaa!” posnemam njeno prejšnje posnemanje njihovega svetovalca za marketing: “Super je!” sem narejeno sladka.


No, frizura mi je res všeč, zelo kratka je, zato po novem kažem celo vrsto uhančkov.

Poletje in to.


One of those things.

See, I’ve become quite a fan of Jack recently.

Mrs. Jack Monroe, that is.

Most of all, because she appears to be a very nice young lady, but also because she fought and conquered some seriously hard times.

Like having a small child but not enough money because the job got lost somewhere along the way.

What’s a real woman to do?

That’s right, she invents new ways of saving the better-off taxpayers’ money, cooking and eating well in the process and then she goes and blogs and writes about it.

While perusing her frugal recipes I realized I am often as simple in my cooking as she is. It doesn’t matter whether I have enough money to buy all the food I want or not: I still try not to waste any or at least as little as possible, I’ve been learning not to add things that do nothing for a meal and I mostly ask for a feedback to make things better.

Also, what I don’t do is define my social status by means of things I put on the table, hoard in the larder, talk and write about. I am not scared of other people’s opinion about the food I prepare, including bread, and I don’t break out in a rash and go screaming if something’s missing …

In other words: no Gutbürgerlichkeit in my kitchen, bitchez. Work.

So, to be quite honest with you: I hate it that there are Guardian readers who feel the need to say stupid things underneath Jack’s recipes published online. One can almost smell the fear of all those privileged eaters denigrating the simplicity of frugal cooking and the bravery of one who not only survived but also got famous by doing it.

Because if all those … financially less well-endowed (aka fraudsters) suddenly turn out to be so damn self-sufficient, there will be no one left to use for shovelling shit on and building up one’s self-confidence with, right?

(yeah, I’ve been barfing again, a bit – I have to)