The cunning use of video games

My housemate has stolen my boyfriend. With the cunning use of retro video games. It might look like a playstation remote plugged into a Wii-mote but really it is the highly pixelated Punch-Out! 

I'm leaving them to it for several reasons: 

1) Housemate only has two remotes

2) I'm rubbish at video games (except dancing ones, Plants v Zombies and Peggle)

3) I think they need a little bonding time. I don't know if it was since I arrived but I have rarely seen them behave like friends (which I'm led to believe they were before they moved in together)

Also, since I got a job, I've fallen behind on my fashion blog reading - shameful, I know. Although, given the choice (which I essentially do have) I would choose my new job over fashion blogs. It makes the waiting for the next post go so much quicker!

Things I need to do: find a flat (with Denis, don't worry, things are still good), buy a car (I'm hoping they'll accept cake in payment) and sort out the legality of me staying here past October. Otherwise, I'm sticking Denis with a seven-month contract on a flat, and that would be unfair. Also, if my new job continues as I hope, and believe, it will, I won't want to be going anywhere.

In other news, I went to dinner with my new boss last night. We had sushi and wine and talked about swing dancing and looked at pretty dresses. Could I ask for more? While it is friendly at work, there was definitely a different feeling - a feeling of two anglophones, who have both been through the British school system and who wound up in some dark corner of a desolate land. I joke because I love - I walked 30 minutes to work today in temperatures that with windchill were getting on for -20 and involved large amounts of snow blowing in my face. I didn't mind but I could really do with a car... if only to be able to get where I need to be going for job-stuff.

I'm looking forward to this weekend (my first event with the new company) - a Winter Wonderland with face-painting, ice sculptures, free hot chocolate, a live band and dancefloor. Will let you know how it goes.

I'll stop now. The elaborate québécois swearing directed at Super Mario is far too distracting.