Life's not always beautiful...

Inside the Underwear Drawer

2010-04-22T05:25:00.000-07:00

So I was thinking tonight that over the last couple of years I have managed to discuss an entire range of things on this blog.

Men, love, relationships, work, accessorising, hair removal, cats, dogs, horses, weight control (or lack there of) alcohol intake (or lack there of), hell, I think even my puppies have rated a mention a time or two, and I don’t mean the barking yapping kind.

But here’s something I’ve never dedicated a post to before. Underwear.

Sorry bout the left of centre idea, but my sister reminded me tonight (having learnt of my new love of aprons) that I once had a wardrobe just for my g-bangers. This is an exaggeration of course, wasn’t a wardrobe at all, was a mere cupboard / sideboard affair…. Joking.

I did once have 56 pairs of knickers though, and for the record they will actually fit into just a couple of drawers, and let’s face it, my knickers use to consist of a lot less material than they do now.

These days it’s all about the boy legs, the comfort bonds undies, or the big suck-my-tummy-in-tight versions,. I wore my big Bridget Jones undies to a wedding one night and TLOML (the love of my life remember, far out, don’t you folk pay any attention?) well the TLOML was mortified as when I sat down at one stage, my dress rode up a bit and you could see the long legged beige ‘I’m too old and fat to wear a fitted dress without this underwear’ show somewhere on my (rapidly aging and expanding) thigh.

Turns out he wasn’t embarrassed by the flash of thigh on show, poor deluded bloke still thinks they are perfectly acceptable (bless him and the horse he rode in on) but worried the world (well, anyone briefly glancing my way for around two seconds) saw that I had succumbed and wore such tasteless panties.

Actually whilst we are on the subject of knickers, does anyone else cringe when they hear the word ‘panty’. It’s wrong on so many varying levels, just because I say so.

So anyway, that was the last time I wore the Bridget Jones, after I shoe horned my way into them, which took about half an hour, I discovered it then takes an additional half hour to get them off . Needless to say, all but the most ardent lover would have given up by then, if they hadn’t have already been turned off by the mere sight.

These days I no longer have 56 pairs of knickers, I’m down to a mere 24 or so, its much more manageable, except for the fact as I mentioned, they are somewhat bulkier than the undies of my youth. In fact, in a few more years I may as well just wear a burka and be done with it. Now, moving on….

This leads me to bras. Does anyone wish to move on the bras now? I’m hoping not, cause I’m not quite ready to discuss them yet. That moment in Bras and Things where I discovered I was at least a D cup, still has me hyperventilating, nor have I worked out what to do with the numerous C Cup bras I still own, which for the record quite possibly match the underwear count.

Something I would like to know though is do men really admire underwear as much as I do? Now, TLOML is certainly a practical fella, so he doesn’t seem to even notice if it matches, has lace, cute prints, or merely holds my puppies up. (not the barking kind) On the bright side, I no longer feel the urge to stuff my drawers (the storage kind) with expensive, cutesy, pretty, seductive, or raunchy underwear.

Granted, I still have a lot of it, some fetishes never die we just merely learn to quash them down a bit, but the amount residing in there is more of a leftover from the old days and a reluctance to throw them out.

So that’s my knicker story, riveting wasn’t it?

Aprons and Hair Ribbons

2010-04-20T02:22:00.000-07:00

It’s been brought to my attention that I’ve been a very bad blogger. It wasn’t brought to my attention nicely either, rather a friend saying “you suck since you got all in love”.

We’re mature like that, my friends and I. We talks good.

I can’t deny it though, looking through my blog I only seem to write to update on what’s been happening since I haven’t been writing to tell you about what’s been happening (keep up). So yes, slap me around cruel world, I do indeed suck!

We could blame it on the man, referred to henceforth as The Love Of My Life (TLOML even, as we all know how I love that text talk) anyway, we could blame it on him, if it was like, his fault. But it’s not your honour I swear.

I really have been still busily tapping away these past couple of years, and sometimes I even get paid for it. The fact someone is willing to part with some dollars to read my dribble still thrills me. Sadly I don’t earn enough to give up the day job, so I continue to keep that. Sometimes I even turn up.

Other times I sit on the lounge and eat Pringles but that’s a whole other story…..

But what with tapping away chasing a dollar, attending work and trying to look intelligent, renovating a house (um, can no one point out our kitchen STILL isn’t painted yet…….actually do, maybe it will hurry TLOML up to complete it..) anyway, I got slack and stopped. So blame life if anything, blame the crazy people willing to offer me money to type, cause I end up sitting here so long at the laptop trying to think of things to write about, that my brain malfunctions and I realise I have nothing left to write here.

But enough about that, what I do promise is that I’m not going to update you with what’s been going on, cause who wants to hear about the argument about what colour to paint a wall?

I will just jump in with todays thought. Which I haven’t actually thought of yet.

What did excite me today though (I’ll tell you about this whilst I try to think of a thought) what did excite me today was receiving my spotlight catalogue in the mail and seeing some truly heavenly aprons.

Yes, I just wrote that line.

I sense the past two years of co-habiting have changed me somewhat. For the better I think as my wine consumption is very slightly down at least, although lets just say we are still working on that one. But I’ve certainly changed.

Recently at work (one of those days that I turned up and tried to look intelligent I mean) a friend and I were discussing the old style housewives. (Oh wait, best stop to shout hello to Talia - picture me waving madly) anyway, she was telling me about the old handbook on how to be a good housewife. You got your mans slippers out ready, you had tea ready, you put a fresh ribbon in your hair and smoothed your apron and powdered your nose, ready to present him with his pipe and slippers on arrival.

Now, listen up, here is the ‘new me’ bit.

I didn’t scoff, I was quietly alarmed that all that feminist bra burning had gone on, and yet I still enjoyed making a home and doing some of those things. I almost asked for a copy of this guide.

I know, it surprises me too. Whilst I don’t go so far as the guide suggested, (especially as for instance, I’m sitting here in my flannelette pyjamas covered in brown monkeys and sporting green woolly socks) but I do enjoy things like opening the yard gates so he doesn’t have to stop and get out, fussing around the kitchen (with a glass of wine of course) preparing dinner before he gets home, and now here I am hankering after a new apron.

Yes, I hang my head in shame, I already own two.

If all this isn’t bad enough, I also found myself on my day off yesterday lovingly re-arranging my Tupperware cupboard. After cleaning out the pantry…..

On the bright side though, I can still drink many people under the table, consider rum an essential breakfast food whilst camping, and managed to turn up at my God sons first birthday party incredibly hungover.

So I haven’t morphed into a stepford wife completely, but I have certainly surprised myself how happy I am pottering in the garden and hanging around home. (even if it is in unattractive pj’s).

Whats interesting (or maybe it isn’t, but I still haven’t thought of todays thought) is that for years society created what they thought women were meant to do in the home then. And now, society is busy creating how we are meant to act now in this new century.

We should be strong, independent, sexually aware and able to service our own cars whilst rocking the baby in one hand, and preparing a gourmet meal with the other and finishing off a management report for work in our heads. And you know what, I like to think I’m all that (although my knowledge of cars isn’t past realising that the wheels are the rubber things on the bottom you put on the road) but at the same time, I don’t want to feel bad that I like making a home.

Is it just me or has society gone so far that some women (I’m sure I’m not alone) almost feel bad these days about loving their man, and wanting to stay at home and wear their apron? You can’t act like that anymore, well you can, but it's starting to get frowned down upon, possibly by the exhausted women who are servicing the car, watching the kids, working at a kick arse job and running the home. Poor buggers are probably so exhausted they don’t have time to enjoy donning an apron anymore.

So, that has now morphed into my thought for the day.

Aprons and hair ribbons and cats that go meow. Okay, I made that last bit up, I just didn’t want to do a whole blog without mentioning my cat :-)

So now I have mentioned Jeff the cat, and admitted my shame of the aprons, its time for me to sign off again.

I have dinner to prepare, a man to lovingly admire, and oh alright…. a bottle of wine waiting.

Farewell 2009

2010-01-18T02:46:00.000-08:00

And here we are. 2010.

It’s sort of less impressing than what I thought the year 2010 would be really. I grew up in an era where there was no Internet and my source of information was a show called Beyond 2000. No wonder I’m underwhelmed, according to it I’m meant to be flying around in my hover car all Jetson style by now. (PS is it interesting that my two favourite cartoons in the whole world are set in the future and the past, being The Flintsones and The Jetsons? No you are right, its not interesting……moving on)

So anyway, I’m not flying around in my spaceship slash hover craft slash car slash shopping trolley. I’m still in a nondescript 4 cylinder that gets me around far less glamorously than Beyond 2000 predicted. In a way, this is a good thing; I hate flying and heights anyway.

But as I was saying, here we are in 2010. As I get older the years really do go quicker, proving that youth really is wasted on the young. All that time wasted in my 20’s thinking my arse was too big, wow, if only I could have seen it in 2010, I would have had a much more carefree existence.

But I can’t complain, because life threw some real curveballs at people close to me last year, whilst I remain relatively unscathed. Sure, I did my own soul searching and all that gaff, tears will always fall on occasions, but I didn’t have to go through the extent of emotional turmoil that others did, and for this I’m grateful, and in a way I'm glad I was (for once!) the level headed one that was able to offer some support and words when needed. Maybe in 2009 I finally learnt that life isn’t all about me after all. That sometimes you need to let it revolve around someone else for a while, and help them find their way to 2010 whatever way they can. Therein lays another lesson in a way, sometimes the world revolves around someone even when they don’t want it to, and as much as it can hurt, the world just keeps on doing its own thing.

Sun rises, sun sets, seasons pass. Maybe in 2010 I’ll make more of an effort to appreciate each one of them too.

So moving on, because crikey, I’ve been serious for a good few paragraphs now, and quiet frankly I’ve had enough. For approximately three weeks I’ve been trying to start a 'Welcome to 2010 rada rada rada' post, but sadly, I’ve been somewhat hungover in most of my free time, and this combined with the death of my laptop (henceforth known as the 'Great Toshiba Incident of 2009') has meant its eluded me (or maybe I’ve just been lazy, take your pick)

So, reading my friends entry here http://sometimesitsbetteroutthanin.wordpress.com/, I’d decided I’d rip her idea (sorry love, I know you will understand!) and also do the goodbye to 2009 survey.

Here we go (can I just add here, I do so love a survey. If I ever end up unemployed I might just make my career surfing the web and completing surveys)

Away we go folks, pour a drink, this could take a while.

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?

Allowed someone else to name a pet of mine. This is how my beloved and I (yes those of you wondering, still loved up here) ended up with a cat called Jeff. 'Jeff the cat' if you want to be formal. For those thinking this is a negligent thing, please remember that allowing someone to name a pet of mine, is akin to allowing someone to name one of your children. Generally speaking it just not on. But I really, really wanted a cat, and he really, really only wanted one if he got to name it. And we welcome Jeff the Cat to our humble abode.

Stay tuned by the way, Jeff could have an entire blog dedicated to him. He is part cat, part ninja, and quite possibly part man beast also.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions and will you make more for next year?

Not really, I think I used the generic “I will loose weight and get fitter”. This once again lapsed and waned throughout the year as it does every year, in relation to the weather, my motivation and occasionally the price of vegetables.

This year I decided to really challenge myself though and aim to learn Spanish. This may also lapse and wane throughout the year in relation to the weather, my motivation and occasionally the realisation I don’t actually need to learn Spanish for any reason whatsoever other than I needed a new years resolution.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yes my best friend did. He was very early and came after a mighty long wait to his parents, but Mr Darcy did indeed enter the world in 2009, and Mr J and I became his proud God Parents. (There is a possibility my best friend regrets the drunken pact we made many moons ago to be godparents to each others children, based on the fact I’m still going around making drunken pacts and she probably thought I too would be married with children by now and make an calm inspiring God Mother….but if this regret thought is running through her mind, she hasn’t voiced her concern thus far, so I continue to lead the way in my shining light and all that jazz. My efforts thus far have been to remember to send up a Christmas Present, so I think I’m doing okay.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

I was quite close to my Toshiba. We try not to talk about it.

5. What countries did you visit?

None, just a few useless states, like the state of hysteria a couple of time, but Mr J does a good job of stamping my passport and bringing me back to solid ground.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?

Patience. And possibly a pony. I miss my ponies, as for patience, can't miss what I never had, but at my (ahem) advancing age, about time I learnt the art of patience. (or is it a virtue? Never mind, I’m bored and want to move on)

7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory and why?

Being incredibly hopeless with numbers, I don’t actually remember dates. Just events. That’s boring isn’t it?

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

I got to see my name in print, in an actual book, you know, like one people pay money for an everything. Insert satisfied smile here.

9. What was your biggest failure?

The denim shorts I thought were cute. They aren’t. I need to face facts, denim shorts, now I am the wrong side of 35, may never be cute again. Insert big sad sigh here.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

I suffered through numerous hangovers, and that was enough.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

A smile to Mr Js face. Bahahaha, that was seriously the worst line I have ever written.

It was actually the smile I bought to your face.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

At the risk of being serious for a minute, human nature continues to amaze me, and I hope one day when I grow up, I’m as strong as some of my friends are.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

Tiger Woods, I thought he was on of the good ones, what an arsewipe. Also taking the aresewipe award is my friends ex-boyfriend. Insert a barrage of swear words here….

14. Where did most of your money go?

I have no idea, this thought might be what appalls and depresses me in next years survey though.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Jeff the cat, he was an outstanding highlight.

16. What song will always remind of you 2009?

All Summer Long, Kid Rock. It seemed to be everywhere

17. Compared to this time last year, are:

a)happier or sadder? I’d like to say happier, but worried you may think I wasn’t happy at the end of 2008. Rest assured, I got to kiss Mr J at midnight in 2008, then at midnight in 2009, and will again at midnight in 2010, so I’m a happy girl.

b)thinner or fatter? Fatter. Fatter by the way is horrible word, I cringed just typing it.

c) richer or poorer? Probably the same, I’m eternally hopeless with money.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Writing.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Worrying, sometimes my mind just thinks of things to worry about. I wish I could fix that.

20. Did you fall in love in 2009?

Yes, see references to Jeff the Cat. I could say I fall in love everyday with Mr J, but he might read this and accuse me of being a soppy fool, so I won’t. (though technically I got it in anyhow)

21. What was your favourite TV program?

Californication. I was late to the party with this show, but became hooked after getting season one on DVD.

22. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Hate starts wars, so I would rather just strongly dislike. So yes, I strongly dislike my friends ex boyfriend.

23. What was the best book you read?

Please, I beg you, don’t ever try to make me pinpoint a favourite book! Its akin to asking someone which of their children they love best.

24. What was your greatest musical discovery?

See answer 23, but replace the word 'book', for artist, song, singer, or lyric.

25. What did you want and get?

Jeff the Cat. Totally awesome.

26. What did you want and not get?

A new car. Patience, and a pony.

27. What was your favourite film of this year?

Oh tuff choice, can’t bloody think, NEXT.

28. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I was 29F, and I went out to dinner with Mr J where I probably ate too much thai and drank too much wine.

29. How you would describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?

I don’t think I had a fashion concept, I was too busy coming to terms with the Bras and Things lady telling me I my boobs were a Double D, thereby rendering my 27 C cup bras living in the draw at home utterly useless.

30. What kept you sane?

My J, music, Jeff the cat, alcohol and my pissy cat dolls.

31. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Hugh Jackman, not only am I in lust with him, I just my genuinely be in love with him.

32. Who did you miss?

My pissy cat dolls.

33. Who was the best new person you met?

See answer 23, but replace the word “book” with ‘friend”.

34. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009.

Good things come to those who wait. Toshibas are shit.

35. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

Every now and then,

I get a little lost

My strings all get tangled

The wires all get crossed

Every now and then

I’m right upon the edge

Danglin’ my toes out over the ledge

I just thank God you’re here

Cause when I’m a bullet shot out of a gun

When I’m a firecracker comin’ undone

When I’m a fugitive ready to run

All wild-eyed and crazy

No matter where my reckless soul takes me

Baby you save me

Life

2009-08-29T05:53:00.000-07:00

I haven’t posted here for so long that it seems cruelly ironic that the last entry was so happy. In a strange twist of fate, this post is only being typed because a part of me is so sad right now that I felt the need to put words on paper to get them outside of my head.

I’m not sad for me, but I’m hurting for a friend and feeling powerless to assist her. What do you say to someone who is losing her mother, who is watching her fade away before her eyes? How can you ease the pain of someone going through that? You just can’t really can you.

Funny how when you hear news like that everything else that seemed to be taking up space in your mind seems so irrelevant you’re almost embarrassed for thinking it was even important. Those extra kilos I’ve put on I’ve been lamenting for instance... who cares? That headache that keeps bugging me? Whatever. The problems that I thought I had; that in reality possibly exist only in my mind? Forgotten.

I’m disappointed it has taken such news to shock me to this state. And I’m sad, so, so devastated for my friend that words, which usually come so easily to me….just can’t seem to form into a sentence that would assist her in any way.

All I can think tonight is how the things that really matter are so basic that half the time you don't even recognise them for that they are.

I can guarantee that at the end of our time on earth, it’s not the petty arguments, the work dramas or the extra kilos we are carrying that will occupy our thoughts. We won’t leave this place for the next thinking “wish I had spent more time worrying about that”.

We won’t wish we had worked harder, achieved a flasher car or a more sculpted body. We’ll be wishing we had just one more day with our family, that we had said “I love you” more than we had, that we had spent more time gardening in the sunshine, giggling with children, or more time laughing with friends and less time worrying about the housework.

So I’m counting my blessings tonight, cause dam it…. I suppose I’ve got it good and maybe I didn’t really know, really truly know it I mean, until now. My car goes, my bills are paid, but more importantly I am surrounded by people that love me. My partner, my friends, and my family. They are all there whenever I need them, and it’s making me cry right now as I type, to think that soon my friend will be one person less in her world. And that the person who has to leave is one of the most important people in the world to her, her mum.

My friend is a wonderful person….she is easily one of the most genuine, thoughtful and loyal people I have met. In the past when I have been down she has always know just what to say to me. I once opened my mail out of the blue to find gifts from her she had bought for me just because I had been feeling down and she wanted to make me smile.

Her mother must be so immensely proud of raising such a girl.

Life just doesn’t make sense some times.

As Time Goes By...

2008-04-30T01:50:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay, okay. I know allright? Over two months (TWO MONTHS!) since I've had anything to say. Okay, thats a fib (I do that sometimes) I've had plenty to say but I've just been too bloody busy to say it.

There's a lot to catch up on. For a start I've changed jobs, changed houses, very almost changed states (give me five minutes further down the road and I would have) and well I've pretty much changed lives. I've gone in one foul swoop (do I have that terminology right? Cause it wasn't foul at all, it was the most blissful enjoyable swoop I've ever had, not that I've done a lot of swooping when it comes down to it) Anyway, in one swoop I went from being blissfully happy to um....even more so. I kid you not.

Strike up the band, wave the flags, let the balloons fly and throw some streamers please. This is big news. For a start nice boy who was mentioned below and I are now loved up, shacked up and well any other up you can think off. (keeping mind out of gutter if possible - lines ran through my mind as I typed that too but I'm refraining - this being the new mature me and all)

I'll blog about it soon, (it will definently be labelled under "the serious stuff") but in the interim just know that all that talk I had about love before, (and lets face it, Ive rambled about it) well I was right in way. I was right to wait for the good stuff, and I was right in that once I knew, just 'KNEW' that it was right, then that would be it for me.

And here I am.

Still drinking a wine, still typing into a laptop but so over the moon that at times I pinch myself to check its real (not really, I just sometimes still drink too much wine, wake up with a hangover then I know its not a dream) Actually even with a hangover Im still blissfully happy. (actually he might dispute that, but I do recall laying pitifully on a friends lounge recently thinking how lucky I was in a weird sort of way)

I've said before that life has a funny way of sorting itself out. Sometimes you get what you want, sometimes you get what you need......and sometimes........just once in a lifetime maybe....you strike it lucky and you get both.

I'm careful not to take it for granted, and I amaze myself daily when I realise just how different my life is to what it was just six short months ago. It was good then, a good life. Now I have a sensational one.

I keep thinking of the word content. Because thats what I am right now. I have everything I could want and need. What I have right now in this moment makes me happy. Nothing more and nothing less. Im finally in the right place, at the right time, with the right person.

Love is indeed grand, and I'm so so glad I discovered that.

Sunday Sessions

2008-02-23T19:06:00.001-08:00

Right. I'm here. And what a busy bee I've been.

Now in reference to the post/s below, I regret to inform you I'm still walking around with my head in the clouds and am yet to come down to earth. Now thats all Im saying on that matter, for fear someone really will resort to throwing sharp objects at my forehead just to bring me back and make me talk sense again.

Im just a big walking happy face really, with the nice boy who I had reffered to previously continueing to earn points at a rate of knots and I hereby admit I'm pretty dam smitten.

Cue big smiles and the cutesy music. (and various friends throwing fluffy bears at me in frustration)

Moving along (I'd happily talk about it all day but Im sure I'm beginning to bore everyone with my "who knew it could be this good" stories) I'm still being held hostage at work for any one that cares. I say held hostage as I'm pretty sure if one of you fronted up with a truck load of cash to release me from their clutches, Id be a free women. Until such times, I continue to feel like I live here. For the record, its Sunday, and I was here yesterday, and Im here each day this week. Do you see a pattern forming?

A really, really boring pattern. Thank you God for crazy co-workers who help keep me sane. (funny how I need crazy to keep me sane, maybe I should blog about that? Or see a Dr about that?)

If this living at work doesnt pay off soon Im really going to re-think the whole thing.....Or demand pay by the hour wages. (actually I could probably retire at the end of the week if that were the case)

Not much else to report though, without gushing about very nice boys and very happy girls. Poodle needs a haircut desperatly though, should anyone be wondering. (wait wait wait........can you at least let me add that I really trust Poodles charachter judgement, she rarely gets it wrong......and she is quite taken with nice boy. Surely this is a sign???)

I know, its probably just a sign I have a friendly dog......but still.

Due to circumstance beyong my control, you'll be pleased to know Im really broke this week (oh wait, I say that every week). Being broke means I resort to drinking cheap champagne with the poodle whilst thinking up some really random waffle to the computer. This has a 99.9% chance of happening this evening, so should have a post (that doesnt involve either poodles or nice boys who send roses) mentioned in it at all. (i just heard a collective sigh of relief)

At this stage Im not sure what will pop into my mind to write about (brain currenly being filled with visions of baked camembert - and even Im going to struggle to collate an entire post dedicated to cheese) so you'll have to be on standby for the next mind blowing post.

Until then......I better get back to work and continue the game of sitting looking important on my laptop on the corner here.

Stay safe all........(please send camembert or cash)

Better Than Champagne

2008-02-18T15:03:00.000-08:00

If I could bottle it I would.

I’m giddy and giggly and in danger of falling. (And I haven’t even been drinking!) It’s better than the best champagne money could buy (not that I know a lot about the expensive bubbles) and requires no marketing gimmicks.

I’m officially smitten.

All weekend I was thinking it couldn’t actually get any better.....and yet it somehow keeps improving.

I’m about to become a walking talking cliché so I’m going to stop right here. All I have to say is this:

Um....Keith who????

The Big V..

2008-02-14T14:39:00.000-08:00

Before I even begin I would like to aplogise for whatever may come out of my mouth (well fingers technically) tonight. For a start, I’m more than a little intoxicated following a bottle of champagne (is that just not a gift from the angels or what?), and am embarrassed to say still I’m staring goofily at flowers. (whilst quaffing the bottle of champers that was magically hiding in my fridge)

There are a few things you need to know about me and V Day. (actually, there are few things I shouldn’t tell you, but being pissed I’m bound to spill it to the world regardless)

Number one, when I wrote it had been four years since I got on with the 'Big V' I lied.

I know, shoot me down, why I thought four sounded better than seven I don’t know (is there EVER any method in my logic?) Call it vanity. Meh…. whatever. I’m drunk typing to a laptop, I’ve probably lost all street cred here anyway.

So it’s actually been seven years. Now don’t get me wrong. I haven’t been celibate all those years (tune out family) I just haven’t actually been seeing anyone over the actual V day, or spreading random acts of kindness with anyone that would think to send me anything, or that I would feel the need to send anything in return too either. (Last year was a corker though. See Valentines Day post a couple down) and I was determined I was going to ignore this holiday for the rest of my days.

This wasn’t hard really, as even in the past when I have been seeing people I really wasn’t hugely into the day. Call my cynical maybe, no, wait.... just call me honest. I really have been of the belief that it’s the little things that count.

From all my relationships (again, I lie, the handful that I would actually call relationships I mean) I have only ever been impressed by the little things. Someone looking after me when I’m ill, running a bath when they know I’ve had a rough day, taking a day off work to sit outside a doctors surgery….. that to me is romance. Not flowers or chocolate, or serenading love songs. (for the record though, as long as I live should you ever play a Celine Dion song near me I may be forced to charge at you with a sharp steak knife) but I digress, what I’m trying to say is, I suppose I’m not impressed easily.

Due to the fact I had been communicating daily with man henceforth known as “nice boy”, (shite, as I typed this I just spilt champagne in the bed....should nice boy know this, I’m pretty sure he would re-nig on the roses) (ps – is it just my drunken mind, -or would re-nig on the roses make just a super country song?) Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, so I’m communicating daily with nice boy, thinking how nice he was and how I would really like to smooch the bejesus out of him (once again, not sure who bejuses is, or why I threw it in there, but I’m sure somewhere in my pickled mind it’s a saying I’ve heard) soooo.

Where the hell was I again?

Oh yeah, smooching nice boy (PS how glad am I he doesn’t read this blog?) Anyway, um, yeah, I like him, didn’t know if he likes me (wait – edit – as a single male I have no doubt should I hit him up for it he would be interested – I have size c to d boobies and legs as long as my hair - which as we know covers my nipples - but I mean did he ‘like’ me, like me) (ps again, apologies for just sounding fifteen years old then)

I agonized over wether to send the nice boy a happy valentines message. Would he take it the wrong way, was it too soon, would he think I was some sort of bunny boiling freak etc.

Shite, having poured more champers, I now forget where I was going with this.

I think the bottom line was………I’m pretty wrapt, despite my cynicism (try typing that when you’re cut folks) that he actually thought to send me flowers.

Strangely (or perhaps not if you do a quick run down on the men I’ve dated over the years) I’ve never actually been sent flowers. I think it’s this point at what I’m chuffed at really. My sister (God bless her cottons socks, must dedicate a post to her soon) has been known to send me flowers, mainly because she knows no one else thinks to send them to me. (I know, trust me, if I could patent her I would, then everyone would get the truly top shelf sis I have)

Again, I’ve lost my train of thought sorry.

Let me refill my champagne.

Again.

Right. Flowers. I got. On the big V day.

Lets just cut a really long rambling story short shall we.

I don’t do V Day.

This year I did.

I’m wrapt with my flowers

Yes that’s pretty much it in a nutshell.

Will I celebrate next year? Who knows. I try not to look ahead.

I would like to add though that THANK GOODNESS I GOT FLOWERS otherwise, following sisters text this arvo I might well be drowning in drink right now. (oh wait, I’m doing that anyway. Right. Moving on)

Anyway, my five year old nephew (who has previously gone by the name of Cowboy according to him) came home from Kingergarden with a REAL valentines card. From his “girlfriend”. By all accounts they are as hot and heavy as two five year old can get. If he is starting to share his chips and popper at little lunch with her, Im going to call it love. So he gets a V day card from her (that was the sisters text that would have had me drowning in alcohol by the way)

I go seven fricking years and he gets one in his first year of school!

I know, where is the justice?

As a proud aunt I’d like to say though he did realize the error of his ways at not having a valentines card ready to return to her. (this talent of recognizing this will come in handy, say 25 years from now) In light of the fact he had nothing but his personality in return (though those that know Cowboy will know this should be more than enough) he searched for a gift. Nine year old sister (who bless her cotton socks too, seems to think I’m a pretty cool aunt, even regardless of the fact I don’t remember anyone birthday but my own and Jesus) happened to have an unwanted plastic bracelet from the showbag she got at the local show last weekend. Cowboy has decided this is the gift he will give his beloved.

Now that my friends….. is love.

I simply must leave you know (did I just hear sighs of relief?) to get back to my bottle of bubbles… I have roses I need to goofily smile at and a nice boy I need to ring.

Cheers, and happy fricking V Day to you all.

THUD

2008-02-13T21:01:00.000-08:00

Hear that?

That was me just falling off my chair in shock.

I have no time to write, especially now I have stopped working to smile goofily at some red roses sitting on the desk.

Someone throw a fluffy teddy bear at me please.

Valentines Day - Someone Stop It!

2008-02-11T19:15:00.001-08:00

I’m still too busy trapped within the gates of hell (aka the office) to write lately. I do indeed to rectify this issue soon (such as, say….actually write something).

I did have to jump on quickly to say two things though. One of them is a big shout out to Whirly, Whirly being a bloke I have mentioned before here who I’ve never actually met, but who I class as a mate anyway. (and who I like to think will have a cold beer waiting for me on my arrival to the NT next time I head that way) Whirly once again made me smile with the wrap he gave my blog. I’m dipping my hat to you my friend! Thank you sincerely, and I really hope you continue to tune in. (providing I do something like say….write. Really must, must rectify my lack of time issue at the moment)

The other thing Id like to say is the big V Day is bearing down on us. (wait, can I rephrase that? 'bearing down' just gives me visions of……..well never mind) So the Big V Day is coming.

I want it stopped.

Like now.

Myself and the Big V do not mix. We haven’t mixed for about oh say…. four years now.

One part of me does almost enjoy however watching princes types throw a tanty when their man doesn’t send a big enough / flash enough / wrong number of roses etc flower arrangement. The best year was when a co-worker got the shits when her man sent her flowers to the house. Apparently this looses its effect…. Cause clearly, its not about love, its about making sure everyone knows you got something.

As I’m expecting nothing I therefore am never disappointed…..just as well as its been some four years since any form of happy V day message arrived for me.

None the less, as the whole day tends to disappoint me (at everyone else’s behaviour and expectation I mean – girls you have a man you apparently ‘love’, be happy…even if he doesn’t send you a bunch of overpriced flowers) For this reason I would like the Big V stopped.

STOPPED RIGHT NOW.

I’m still recovering from last years (when I actually bought someone a card, only to discover he had planned to go out for drink and dinner that night……..just not with me, with another girl)

So move over V Day. Here’s to “I don’t need a significant other cause I’m significant enough myself day”

Bring it on.

(or alternatively, I hope the nice boy I’m currently communicating with sends a cute text message at least – especially if I get enough courage to send one to him)

I'm On My Way...

2008-02-03T16:40:00.000-08:00

I'm on my way, from misery to happiness today uggh huh, uggh huh..... *insert rest of bad cheesy song here*

Truth be told, I don't actually know the rest of the song, just that one line. But I am on my way to another post, at least just as soon as work eases up to let me do it. I've been sidetracked by a brief visit to hell (AKA work) and a requirement to be here seven days a week. Might add as a holiday destination, hell is really not up to scratch, seven days in North QLD would have been the preffered option. As for work, Im ready to tell them to kiss my fine ass.

Really, free access to the internet just isn't enough, I demand delegated work time to post entries and write as well dam it! *stomps fists on desk*.

Also, due to the fact I started detoxing this morning and have had no caffeine since last night, I do warn you that I might be a little antsy and on edge. (close to ripping everyones heads off and stuffing them down their throats in other words)

So I'm on my way........to what I don't know yet. A post of some description, Im aiming for funny.........but it might be a lot to ask of a girl in caffeine withdrawal.

In other news, perusing my star signs yesterday I discovered that three days ago was apparently my standout day of the year. What the?! Why the frig no one bought that to my attention before the actual event is beyond me. So if three days ago was the highlight of my year - might add it was a ten hour day at work filled with stress, hair pulling and possibly the odd tear - well if thats the best day of the year I'll, I'll, I'll...demand a new bloody horoscope.

Scorpio gets the good stuff, might become one of those.

Must run, hell (AKA work) calls.........till later my friends, I'll contact you once Im realised from the burning fires....

Looking Through The Window

2008-01-31T13:24:00.000-08:00

Were you to peer through my window tonight, you would find what you might think is me.

You would see a dark haired girl, tapping on a laptop, in a perfect white room, perfectly coordinated, with a perfect grey poodle curled up by her side. You might notice that though steam lingers in the bathroom from a shower, this girl has perfect hair, with perfect make up re-applied as she sits in her perfect world.

You might think what a pretty picture it makes, you might think how easy her life must be.

You might even wish you were she.

You might want to step inside through the glass and pause for a moment amongst the calm, as you admire the photos, perfume bottles and girly things she has arranged perfectly around the room... like she is waiting for an interiors magazine to come along and photograph it.

Note the pale pink chiffon scarf draping from the door handle of the white wardrobe. Note that it matches the multiple rose pattern cushions scattered on the white embossed quilt, the throw rug draped casually just so, to match the runner on the tallboy and the tassled throw along the wooden blanket box that matches the rest of her furniture.

You might think she is perfect herself.

If you were to look closer though you might notice the things you missed as you first admired the view.

You would see the half empty wine glass smudged with lipgloss next to her on the bedside box. You would see the open packet of sleeping pills hiding in the drawer. You would see the bottle of wine on the floor, that she wants to drink so she can forget that she isn’t the girl you first saw as you looked in.

You might see her mind struggle as she picks the bottle up, and places it gently down again, considering her every move as she breaks from her typing. Weighing up her options.

If you look even closer, you will see that tears have already slightly marred her make up, and you would see another ready to fall and make its track down her face. You would see balled up tissues peeking out from under the pillow, from the cry she thought no one would notice earlier.

And as you pick up on these things, you might start feeling someething for her. Pity, sadness, sympathy,anger. You could feel anything...or nothing at all.

You might then start to think that not everything is as you thought, and that maybe she isn’t perfect after all.

You would be right.

My Kind Of Love Song

2008-01-29T18:29:00.000-08:00

Since I posted about Iris Dement a few entries back, I've keep hearing "what the hell were you talking about?" (although come to think of it, I keep hearing that anyway....I think I see a pattern forming here)

So I was thinking about what to give you. (no smart comments please)

I could have given you the sentimental "Our Town" (which hit it big commercially for a while there when it was featured as the very last song on the very last episode of Northern Exposure....I think I just showed my age then by the way)

Or I could have given you the sad and haunting "No Time To Cry", which makes me tear up everytime I hear it.

But...NUP! I give you this is instead, my favourite love song.

Why do I like it? It's quirky, it's offbeat, it's completly left of centre. But its love.

I suppose the song reflects that love isn't always chocolates and flowers and warbling Celine Dion songs.

This song....this song is me.

I Come From a Land Downunder...

2008-01-28T18:07:00.000-08:00

Happy Australia Day Maaaaaaaaate!!!

Hope you ate lamb on the BBQ, proudly waved the flag and enjoyed a beer in the sun. Most of all, I hope you enjoyed your Australia Day more than I did, which ended in a trip to RPA (Royal Prince Alfred Hospital for the non Sydney dwellers) for a seven hour stint and a drink spiking incident. (the low lives who did it are definitely UN-AUSTRALIAN in my book)

For once though, I’m not only lost for words, but I have no wish to share that section of the evening. So I’ll focus on the good bits for you instead!

The Weather: I love summer, I love the sun, and I loved the fact it was hot for aussie day and shorts and thongs were more than ample coverage to keep everyone warm, even well into the evening. (times like that I realize why I could never live in any country where thongs are not standard and acceptable footwear)

The View: For the very first time I spent the day in Sydney near the harbour. Now this news may startle some amongst you, but what can I say...as one of this great countries biggest country music fans I only ever spend Australia Day in Tamworth (which for the uninitiated is part of the Country Music Festival – laugh all you want by the way. You develop thick sing as a country fan...And no Kasey Chambers doesn’t sound like a cat with its tail being stepped on! Well maybe she does, but her lyrics make up for it okay?)

Due to circumstances beyond my control however (allright, I just can’t budget properly) I had to remain fairly local. Sydney was the choice to watch the tall ships and view the fireworks. The Harbour put on a show and look superb, and the Opera House (which, just to be different I actually usually find just a big, weird, funny looking white building) looked picture perfect in the sunshine.

The Company: An assorted group of friends and acquaintances, including the much loved Pearla, a fellow co-hort in most of my shenanigans and soon to be departing the shores (you can read about her here http://lifesnotalwaysbeautiful.blogspot.com/2007/12/one-about-pearla.html ) Pearla is a fellow fan of Australia Day and all things aussie, and is still coming to terms with the fact she will be OS when Anzac day arrives this year. (like the good friend I am, I have promised to contact her – because everyone knows her mobile phone is going to work in the wilds of Indonesia – on the great day itself to update her on the rum intake and the state of play of two up this year)

So that was Australia Day. I felt proud to be Australian and felt full of love for the aussies in it, especially when I met a group of Scottish ( or were they Irish? They had an accent of some sort anyway) travellers who had arrived six months ago and promptly fallen in love with Australia and her inhabitants. The lifestyle, the weather, the outdoor music events, the aussies, the beaches and scenery…..and they hadn’t even made it out of NSW yet!

And then of course, there was sadly the rest of the night...which we won’t even discuss.

I know, surprised aren’t you? I’m usually happy to share but maybe it’s all just a bit too painful yet, and besides of which the story isn’t mine alone.

Speaking of words (we weren’t but I’m running this show!) I read this afternoon that we speak approx 8000 words a day, up to 56 000 a week and around 3 BILLION words a year. Just a bit of useless trivia for you, I discovered this as I was reading a book for work

I can’t believe actually they have given me something which is encouraging me to talk even more either – as the chapter itself was all about making our 8000 words count. I skipped the rest of the chapter though, as I don’t need a book to point out that I’m probably double the average and say around 12,000 a day, most of it meaningless dribble no good to anyone. (I’m still deciding what possessed them to arm me with this information).

Anyway, so there I am reading my book for work, whilst waiting for the exit mould in the bathroom to do its stuff.

Did you get that?

Reading for work, waiting for the exit mould to set.

All on a public holiday, when by rights I should be at a BBQ quaffing a chardy in the sun and generally making a mess of myself...not having a cleaning frenzy. If the majority of this blog hadn’t already led you to believe I possibly need my head read, the sentence above ought to confirm it for you.

Its bloody Un-Australian is what it is!!!!

So I’ve stopped now, and decided a brief blog entry was in order, (Okay I fib, I did attend to the exit mould in the interim and the bathroom is looking every bit as sparkling as the Opera House did on Saturday now)

Having nothing to say for once though my eyes ventured back to the book and to the communication chapter (cause clearly, I’m crap at it) and I started reading about ‘thinking before you speak’.

Okay, so I skipped that chapter too…….
(I’m really ripping through this workbook, my boss is going to be wrapped with me)

Next up came a few paragraphs about speaking slower than usual to get your point across.

At this point I threw the book across the room. Useless tripe.

I’m in sales, I have boobs to get my point across. (just joking esteemed colleagues)

Anyway, thats all of the estimated 8000 words a day you are getting from me for the moment, as I'm off to read the section on “treat everyone with the same courtesy” (clearly this author hasn’t met some of the people we work with on a day to day basis).

I’d love to leave you with the lyrics to a land downunder to celebrate this Australia Day entry, but they make no sense to me at all and I only really remember that someone gets a vegemite sandwich.

So I’ll leave you with some words from our new Australian Of The Year – Lee Kernaghan.

Its a song about a song.. the song that most people refer to as our unoffical anthem - Waltzing Matilda.

I tumbled into life, out on the western line.

A simple gathering of melody and rhyme

Written down and tweaked a bit, ink pen on manuscript

Little town, little song, looking for somewhere to belong
Sat in a bureau draw, pulled out and then performed

For a governor and mayor

A law clerk scratched me down, next morning we left town

He was humming as we rode and I wondered where we’d go

CHORUS
On and on round and round, far and wide am I bound

I’m a gift, I’m a drifter always wandering free

On and on like the wind, I am home, I am friend

And you’ll always be as close as a whisper to me

Some shearers heading south; sang me to Jackie Howe

First time he ever shore a hundred in a day

I rode the silver rails, I crossed the mountain trails

They’d sing my song from the Cape to Moreton Bay

And then send me on my way

CHORUS

As Private Monroe gently sang, I floated over no man’s land

I’ve seen the tears of countless lonely sons

I’ve crossed the raging seas,

Wound up in symphonies,

Was there in victories,

Been sung on bended knees...

Im just some notes and verse

Nothing more and nothing less

You’ll find me at the stock camp as they’re passing out the rum

Out near where I’m from

On and on round and round, far and wide am I bound

I’m a gift, I’m a drifter always wandering free

On and on like the wind, I am home I am friend

And you’ll always be as close as a whisper to me
On and on with this swag and an old tucker bag....

Singing who’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me

If I'd Have Only Known...

2008-01-24T00:08:00.000-08:00

As the saying goes, life doesn't come with an instruction book.

Clearly if it did, there would be a number of things in it that pointed out the obvious 'fuck up and failures' that you should avoid throughout your life is you wish to get out unscathed, unhurt, unruffled and aghhh...sober. (pause while I refill my glass please)

So many things I wish I had known.

Things like, never throw out your clothing as at some stage they will be back in style - even the flouro gear if you believe Supre. (I would like to add though, as a rule of thumb...if you were young enough to wear it the first time round, chances are you are going to be too old to wear it on its revival)

Just on a side note on Supre, I'm not known to frequent this store (as we known from my love of cask wine, clearly Im a high quality girl) but recently I ventured in on the lure of cheap little $10 shorts. Long story short, was rather dismayed to find I had to go up to a medium in the shorts. Worse followed.....spying a fetching crochet type bikini (and surprisingly, that wasnt said sarcastically) I took it along for the ride to the change room. Folks, at five foot nine and weighing some 59 kilos I was a LARGE. But wait theres more, out come the steak knives, and with the steak knife twisting in my heart I then proceeded to discover I was an EXTRA LARGE in the fitted t-shirt I was eyeing of.

EXTRA LARGE.

Want me to say it again? Five foot nine (and a bit) 59 or so kilos (depending how bad my cravings for McDonalds Apple Pies have been that week) and I was an EXTRA LARGE. Yeah, Supre sure knows how to make a girl feel good.

Anywyay, I digress, (as I often do) where was I? Oh yes, things I wish I had known.

I wish I had known that all those men I have cried over weren't worth it. (because goodness knows, there always seem to be some other looser happy to treat me with disrespect to take their place)

I wish I had known that spending your youth wishing you would put on weight was wrong.....for once the universe listened and I cant scoff hot dogs for breakfast, lunch and dinner like the old days. Why the hell did I cry when people nicknamed me greyhound?

If I had only known that balls don't really turn blue (I can't believe I ever fell for that one either)
....and if I had only known that the last tequila is never going to be a good idea.

For the good of the future generation, in tommorows post I'm going to start writing a 'lifes little instruction book' to help them get by. Feel free to make suggestions.

For now though, I must run. Its 8.22pm and I'm at work drinking wine and have just had a really lovely chat with security about why I am still here and why hasn't anyone set the alarm code yet. I think I really bonded with them though, but sadly it they couldn't make it over for a drink.

It then took me approximatley (you try spell that sober for anyone laughing) twenty minutes of phone time to trawl though my emails and folders looking for a security password I didn't realise we had. I thought it was just a code, didn't know I needed a word as well!

If I'd have only known.

PS Here is the LARGE bikini.

(and though you may be wondering, now is not the time to try to explain what my medal was for)

It's Summertime

2008-01-22T22:33:00.000-08:00

Now I've mentioned below I love summer...........and I mean I REALLY REALLY love summer. This song brought a smile to my face the first time I heard it, and Ive played it on cold days just to remember summer is a'coming and to hang in there. The fact its sung by Kenny Chesney (another of my lusted after men - hard to keep up I know) is a huge bonus to me.

Knowing the Tamworth Country Music Festival is currently on (I can't believe its still going on without me actually, couldn't they have halted it till my arrival???) I'm feeling summery and ready to live life and love the music. This song makes me think of every great music festival or event I've ever attended.

Apart from my yearning to go to Mexico (fueled partly by the thought of running into Kenny and the thought of him being shirtless at the time) I've never really had a desire to go O/S, but boy, do these yankies treat their country singers good, the concerts look phenononmel ....um phenonumel....just bloody great, and its enough to give me the urge to see it all some day.

Summertime..... I just can't get enough of it. As for the song itself, there's something fundamentally good about lyrics that mention heat, swimming, wine, old fords and tattoos all in the one song. Enjoy.......

It's All About Me

2008-01-22T14:29:00.000-08:00

Okay folks, be thankful I didn’t end up posting following the cranky pants episode below. I did consider it, but everything came out so bloody angry sounding I couldn’t do it to you all (okay, all ten of my faithful followers – the cheque is in the mail by the way).

Because my brain is temporarily down (actually I’m trying to watch Americas Next Top Model as I type) I’d thought I’d fall back on the old “ALL ABOUT ME” list.

I’m actually excited to get started on it, because well, because it’s all about me (and don’t I love that).

A good friend of mine had posted a list (all about her of course, though I wish that one was all about me too...boom boom) on her blog last year, and I found it intriguing. I probably found out more about her in that one list than I had in the five years or so I have known her. I giggled at some, nodded my head in agreement at some, and was astounded at some (I can’t believe for instance, that TomKat don’t bother her. Because Tom Cruise really does seriously bother myself)

So I give you to…..the list of me. (I’m going to limit it here to 100, because I could waffle on about myself all day if no one steps in and puts a halt to it)

1. I have been a member of every local library wherever I have lived. Due to moving frequently over the years, I now harbor a number of stolen library books as a result

2. When I was younger I used to have the nickname Olive Oil (think Popeye) due to being so skinny

3.Whenever I say my middle name, I get visions of Mr Squiggle in my head. (Miss Jane Miss Jane)

4. I have watched the movie In Her Shoes about 18 times now, and still cry each time

5.My most treasured possession is a gold plated horseshoe from my favourite mare I lost years ago

6.I’m a lapsed Catholic (or more like col-lapsed) but still believe in God and often pray

7.When I pray I hold nans rosary beads, like its some sort of direct line to heaven

8. I love music and generally go to sleep listening to it every night

9. I have two tattoos and four body piercings (six if you count the ears I guess)

10. I like the fact I look like I wouldn’t have any of the above

11. I have an ex boyfriend I call Donkey, from the Shrek Movie

12. He thinks this is a term of endearment.

13. It isn’t

14. I have been a bridesmaid five times

15. I found the last time the hardest day of my life, and I don’t know if all the words in the dictionary could ever help me explain why

16. I once tried to sponsor a child, but gave up when I learnt I couldn’t sponsor an aboriginal child

17. Clearly, I believe charity begins at home

18. Sometimes I like to antagonize mothers in the grocery line by deliberately not smiling at their children

19. Occasionally the cute ones almost make me cave in

20. Despite this, I still don’t want children on my own

21. I know I’m thought of as selfish because of this by some

22. My expectations of people are high, and I am frequently disappointed by them as a result

23. I often describe myself as a ‘free range’ dancer

24. If I ever find a man I’m happy to dance with, I think he will be the one for me

25. I have a secret love of Iris DeMents music, even if others describe her as Iris De-mented

26. I tend to be very black and white, I love or I hate, I’m down or I’m up and I have very little grey area

27. I hate to cry in public, and just hate to cry. For years my family referred to me as hard hearted Hannah because of it

28. I love to watch bad reality TV

29. I love Patsy Cline music and always request “Crazy”, even from bands or singers who will clearly have no idea what I’m talking about

30.Horses comfort me. There is something about their smell and presence I think is good for my soul

31. I’m a believer in fate. And think everything happens for a reason.

32. I have learnt something from every cracked or broken heart...except one

33. I have been described as quirky and interesting

34. I sometimes fear this is a nicer way of saying kooky and strange

35. My favorite ice cream is rum and raison

36. I only discovered in the last two years that I love olives

37. I once took fourteen mysendol in one night

38. I’m now immensely glad I woke up

39. I’m not sure I wanted to at the time

40. I’m the neatest person I know and could no more go to work with the bed unmade or the dishes undone anymore than I could fly to the moon

41. Even if the moon was a viable holiday option I still wouldn’t go there

42. Flying scares me, not the crashing. Just the fact I’m not on heaven or not on earth, I feel like I’m floating around the atmosphere and that unhinges me

43. I love summer and the heat and hate winter.

44. No I mean I really, really hate winter!

45. I prefer fords over holdens (hands down)

46. I’m possibly the worlds worst guitar player

47. I’m eternally disappointed music doesn’t come naturally to me

48. I think love makes the world go around. All kinds though, not just the romantic type

49. I don’t believe in ‘The One’

50. It would take more than this one entry to explain my reasoning behind the above though

51. I do however believe in soul mates

52. I think we get more than one soul mate, and they can come in all different forms

53. Animals rock my world and I love to have them around me

54. There may well be one thing I will die wondering about

55.I don’t believe in regrets, cause I think everything we do shapes us somehow and makes us who we are

56. I don’t like Nicole Kidman, and will never refer to her as “Our Nic”

57. I would like to point out I disliked her before she hooked up with Keith

58.Its true I will never forgive her for that, even if I never had a chance with him myself

59. My wrists are my favorite body part

60. Okay I lied, my boobs are. I think they are fine, so do others, what can I say

61. I really do like my wrists though. And my little feet

62. Unless it happened when I was a kid and I don’t recall it, I’ve never had short hair

63. I had a small freak out last year when I had a hair cut whilst drunk and realized the next day that it was above my bra strap

64. It was the first time in years it wasn’t long enough to cover my nipples when naked

65. I’m laughing at the fact my brother will be cringing when he reads the above

66. I am glad to report my hair is now once again long enough for nipple coverage

67. When I swim in the ocean I don’t like my feet touching the bottom

68. My hair is naturally ringlet type curls and I often wonder how I used to function without the hair straightener

69. I’m still scared of the dark and can’t be in complete darkness

70. I think men should have short hair and women should have long hair

71. I do find myself making exceptions for the odd offbeat dreadlocked type though

72. I find something attractive about a free spirited man with bongo drums, and a hot pair of arms to go with it

73. Daisies have been and probably always will be my favourite flower

74. I eat a lot of meat, and believe I could never be a vegetarian

75. I love reading trashy Jilly Cooper novels, especially the horsey ones

76. Little Women however is my favourite book ever

77. When I read it now I feel like I am twelve and reading it for the first time again

78. I re-write it my head these days and always have Jo and Laurie together, and firmly believe this would be a better ending

79. I believe I know the cure to hiccups

80. I love evaporated milk on my porridge in winter

81. If I had to choose anyone in the world to look like, it would be Megan Gale

82. Sometimes I feel like my nan is still around me

83. The thought comforts me

84. I’ve never smoked a cigarette

85. I still haven’t seen the Shrek Movie, only parts of it

86. I only ever paint my toenails and very rarely my fingernails

87. I prefer lipgloss over lipstick

88. I tape the CMC top 30 countdown every week

89. I dream at least twice a month my teeth are falling out

90. Dreams about snakes also frequent my sleep, they are generally large pythons hanging off me with their mouths around my feet

91. I will be embarrassed if a dream analyst finds this and tells me it represents lack of sex or something

92. Refer to above – it bloody well could be

93. I want to travel to Mexico one day, to drink tequila in the sand

94. Its important to me I see Australia first though

95. Even though I have held a licence, held down a mortgage and held down a job consistently for years, I still can’t quite believe I’m a grown up

96. I sing loudly and badly when I drive

97. I have 56 pairs of knickers and think it’s a fetish of mine

98. I’m a consistent reader of my horoscope and think I’m a typical cancerian

99. I cant believe I got to number 99 on the list and still have a stack of things I could add

100.I love to have a drink (Bet you didn’t guess that one!)

So there you go. Some tit bits (yet again, I query who penned that phrase... What the hell is a bit of a tit when it’s at home?) about yours truly to ponder over. Who knows what you are thinking, and what your impressions of me now are? I’m pretty stoked to have a legitimate hundred reasons to talk about myself though.

PS number 92 is sadly true, although at least I have now rectified the “oh my goodness I haven’t slept with someone all year situation” which I seem to do the first half of every new year (I believe men have this thought within the first hour of every new year) There are times when I am truly thankful I am on a friends with benefit deal with an ex who is normally half of Australia away and just happened to be on a visit. (Although I prefer to think of it as a random act of kindness)

Once again, apologies to my brother, maybe one of his co-workers can warn him not to not read the last paragraph :-)

Who's Wearing Their Cranky Pants?

2008-01-20T21:27:00.000-08:00

That would be me. I'm wearing my cranky pants and don't you dare disagree with me!

See that dog above? That's a good representation of what I look like sitting at my desk at work right now. Okay, as we know (thanks to the below post) I don't have 'fur', but should you venture into my little nook of the office you will find yours truly with a very similar expression, and I'm likely to snap and snarl at you in the same way.

Having chose to detox this week (following the great two large pizzas and copious amounts of wine entry below) I was determined to not have a drink all week.

But what can I say, the office is driving me to it..... standy by for a drunken rave later on this evening. (If I haven't been sent to the pound by then)

Hair Removal Hell

2008-01-19T16:21:00.000-08:00

Well after posting the 'Feels Like Home' entry below, I was feeling rather melancholy and blue so decided something needed to be done before you had yourself one rather depressing blog entry here instead of what you got.

Fueled by my cheap wine and thinking a treat was in order I decided Pizza was the obvious choice. There's my first mistake (actally, the cheap cask wine was probably my first mistake if the truth be told, the second being to sit and listen to sad songs whilst sharing wine time and choc chip muffins with the poodle, so by the time I got around to the pizza we were probably staring down the barrel of at least mistake number 3)

Anyway, pizza ordered. With the help of a coupon due to the 'extreme budgetting' I was attempting (coupon out of date, but I'm not known as being able to talk my way out of things for nothing.....scored two large pizzas at bargain price despite the deal being a month old) Come to think of it, seeing as I was doing 'extreme budgetting' I probably should have been doing wonderous things with marked down mince, but a domestic goddess I just wasn't feeling last night.

Of course, in my head I told myself two large pizzas and garlic bread should last me a good couple of days. So wasn't 'really' splurging if I got a few meals out of it.

There you go, another mistake.

I don't even know what number I'm up to.

The whole evening clearly just turns into one big mistake all around.

I ate the pizza pretty much in one sitting, though granted, the sitting was over an extended few hours. Two large pizzas. TWO. I know, I'm cringing too! They were thin and crispy base, if only that took away my guilt. Having managed to gain around 3 -4 kilos over christmas and new year I really should have known the pizza was a bad idea. I should also have known that I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL. Rule of thumb in my house is I can't actually let the bad food enter the premises. Once entered I loose my head and tend to eat it in one go. I can't help but wonder if I have an addictive personality, I rarely buy a block of chocolate for example, or packet of biscuits as once it's open it's goooooone with nothing but the wrapper, a few crumbs and a satisfied expression on my face left as the only evidence of what went on.

So there goes the pizza (and my quest for my previously flat stomach) and I sit there fretting over what I've done. As we know from here http://lifesnotalwaysbeautiful.blogspot.com/2007/11/great-weight-debate.html I'm sensitive about winging about my weight so quickly decided SOMETHING MUST BE DONE to get me out of this 'woe is me, Im feeling fat mood' (of course I feel fat I kept telling my stupid head.......I just ate two god dam LARGE pizzas, ie sixteen sliced of pepperoni and meatlovers bliss....was hardly going to feel like a Victoria's Secret model after that. But bah... my head is stupid at times and thinks the most unsatisfactory thoughts. I really despair of it)

Remembering the twenty bucks I had spent at some stage on some home salon wax I decided a bit of 'beautifying' would no doubt restore my mind to happiness. (I may have been feeling podgy, but I could at least feel podgy hair free) Now generally I have no fear of the beautician. I can chat my way through a brazillion and barely blink. Though I may not look like it, I harbour two tattoos and four body piercings and have been told on numerous occasions I have an excellent pain threshold (again, this alone must be worthy enough for another blog entry, as how I ended up that way is beyond me. I cry watching Man From Snowy River like the big girl that I am, but can walk into a body piercing place without even a drink to fortify me and feel nothing but a rush. Go figure)

Sculling more of my cheap cask wine I read the directions and thought was a breeze it would be. I was probably about two weeks overdue for a wax, but had been putting it off due to the Great Budget of 08. (I hated that budget before.....I really hate it now)

Heat the wax. Put on the powder (just like the professionals). Put on the wax, RIP. Yeah, not too bad, was merrily ripping away (in between wine glass refills) thinking how good was this. EASY! And I've saved money.......go me!!

Mentally high fiving myself I prepared for the..... how do we put it.... tender bits. I like to go all off you see. I'm a fan of smooth.

I could do this to myself, I really could (sculls drink again) At the beauticians she manages to do it in a few swift rips that hurt more than elsewhere and does at least make me pause in conversation while I intake my breath.

To do this to myself I can't describe the agony though. Maybe I didn't pull the um... 'area' tight enough. Maybe I didn't get the angle right (its a bit tricky around there, no wonder men practically need a GPS and road map to navigate) but OH MY LORDY. I know, I try not to take the big man above's name in vain, but I was praying for strength I tell you. The first rip was agony. I actually had a brief moment of panic as II realised I had happily slathered wax everywhere and couldn't actually get out of now ripping the rest off.

It took the remainder of the wine cask to get there.

I broke out in a cold sweat and cursed my blasted budget from here to the moon and back. I swore I would never do a home wax again. I wondered if I had actually removed bits of essential flesh at one stage. Yes, there was even blood. THIS CANNOT BE GOOD.

Finally it was done. I was a wreck. I felt like I'd been sent to war and come home wounded. I was bruised and battered. Just between you me and the gatepost, I was actually glad the area isn't actually being 'utilised to its full potential' currently as I think it's too tender to even contemplate right now.

Viewing the area (I know, I can't believe I wrote that either) it's not bad for a home job. I'm certainly smooth if nothing else. Shame about the slight shading of bruising. Was it worth the saving? NO. Especially if you consider I spent $12 in cask wine to do it, and about twenty on the home salon wax, and if I go to my beautician every four weeks its only forty dollars anyway for her to 'take it off'. And it barely hurts there compared to last nights agony.

Will I be attempting it again? NO. Although maybe its like childbirth and I'll have forgotten the experience in a few weeks? I'm actually only writing this blog to remind me what I went through should I ever be tempted to try a home job again.

So, I'm sorry to leave you with these bad mental visions. I will try dig up a cute picture shortly to get your mind of my um....slightly damaged area.

Just think of this post as a warning to you all.

Don't attempt home waxing, not a full on brazillion anyway.

Don't order two large pizzas for yourself, you'll probably only eat them all in one go and feel fat and foolish.

AND

Don't drink cheap cask wine. It makes you do bad bad things.

And now......your picture to get your mind off things. I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions.

Hairy Kitty

Smooth Pink Kitty

Feels Like Home

2008-01-18T21:53:00.000-08:00

Okay.... so I'm not normally the romantic type.

But blame it on the cheap wine I'm drinking, blame it on the rain falling steadily outside, blame it on the fact that underneath it all, at heart I'm just a girl who sometimes wishes she was in love. I just can't get enough of this song.

A Muddy Dog

2008-01-16T16:15:00.000-08:00

I know there are some of you that log onto this for their daily chuckle, and I’m usually more than happy to oblige. Being the funny one comes easy to me, and I often call this blog my free therapy. Even by rights when something shouldn’t be exactly amusing, it comes out that way and I read it back to myself and actually manage to cheer myself up when I see it in print.

But I’m a bit down tonight I’m afraid. This afternoon a friend of some 13 years passed away. That friend was Muddy, a border collie cross blue cattle dog that magically just ‘followed me home from work’ one day. Tonight, Muddy, the funny dog with the big smile is no more part of this world, but no doubt keeping those on the other side company with his wagging tail and sunny smile.

Muddy came to me by accident. I was doing a brief stint at a Veterinary Clinic when someone brought in a litter of pups. He was the unplanned result of a blue cattle dog having its wicked way with a sweet border collie and Muddy and his siblings were the result. Muddy from memory was the smallest of the litter, and resembled a border collie but for his blue speckled nose and paws. Despite the fact I lived some 40ks from work I still maintain he just ‘followed me home’. His fate rested in mums hands as I was still living at home at the time, but mum, like me, is a sucker for animals...Muddy stayed.

He didn’t take long to grow on us. Being border collie breeding he loved to be ‘doing’. While we lived on acreage it wasn’t a working farm so his main chore for the day, in which he excelled and looked forward to daily, was getting the chooks away for the night. We called this “chookin’ lookin’ and Muddy took great delight in this one big job he had. Till the day he died, as a retired overweight dog living the good life down the south coast with my also retired parents, Muddy still pricked his ears and got excited when you said ‘chookin’ lookin’, and would look frantically around the backyard like the chooks my soon appear and need his assistance.

In his youth Muddy was an energetic ball of fun. I recall the first time I took him to the vets for a check up, and her remarking that his had the best muscle tone of a pup his age she had seen. He didn’t stop much back then. If he wasn’t chewing toys, he was on the look out for chooks, accompanying us behind the horses during rides and generally getting in the way of things. He was also hands down the best childrens dog we have ever come across, ever. Considering his breeding this sometimes amazed me. I walked out once to find him on top of the concrete water tank with the kids. How did he get there? (actually how did all of them get there) One had pulled him up by his ears and the other pushed his legs from below. Didn’t worry Muddy though, he just loved to be part of the action. We have had the pleasure of many breeds of dogs over the years, but none have honestly been as trustworthy as he.

He also developed a strange love for my nephews slippery dip, and would amuse me for ages jumping up the ‘steps’ at the back and slide and jump his way down it. It achieved nothing really, but like a kid, he didn’t care, it was all in the doing!

When he was around about seven Muddy lost his other mate, my mums dog Mishka. It took him about four years before he even uttered a bark again after she went. We realized that the only time he had ever barked in his life was when Mishka did. He’d hear her and have a yap then shut up. I think half the time he had no idea what he was barking at, just that it must have been called for ‘cause the other dog was! After Mish went I think it was around four years before he uttered a bark again, and that was at a blue tongue lizard that took up residence in the backyard down the coast. Till yesterday when he left us, that lizard (or perhaps relatives of it) was still the only thing that made him have a woof. Clearly, a watch dog he wasn’t. Muddy would be more likely to lead someone to the door and come in and show them around had anyone tried breaking in.

Just last year mum rang me concerned Muddy was lonely and might need company. Not wanting to get another animal she suggested a concrete chook statue. Now, Muddy wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but I’m pretty sure he would have known the chook was concrete, besides of which he always liked his chooks moving anyway!

Fate stepped in as about that time I moved and wasn’t able to take my cat with me. Scarlet the Cat and Muddy the dog soon bonded, though as bossy cats often do, Scarlet could be seen sleeping in the dogs bed while Muddy slept on the concrete next to it. I don’t know how animal minds work, but I think they were close friends anyway in their own funny way and could often be founding together in the back yard.

I wasn’t really prepared for Muddy leaving us today. He had seen me through a lot over the years. He has celebrated countless family celebrations with us, and watched the grandkids grow up around him.

But tonight he was tired and decided it was time to go. I think he planned it you know. Muddy’s one big fear in life was storms. Mum had rang me an hour or two before with the news Muddy wasn’t well and in at the vet clinic. We worried about the storm on its way and how he wouldn’t like it.

He didn’t get to see that last storm, and I suppose in one way I’m grateful.. I like to think he simply closed his eyes and slept his way to a storm free heaven.

I have cried tears at work when I heard the news he had gone, and got home to be comforted by the poodle where I cried yet more tears at animals and pets and what they bring to our worlds.

I’m not ashamed to admit I’m an animal lover, I haven’t really had a time at all when they haven’t around me. Horses are my big love, and my respect for them is worthy of an entire blog of their own. But any animals I welcome in my home. I love cats for their sometimes uppity attitude and the way they think they own you instead of the other way around, and I love dogs for their sheer devotion and trust. I can tell when I walk into a home that doesn’t have pets……..some essence is strangely missing and its doesn’t feel quite complete.

For all the times I have cried as my pets have passed over the years, they have been worth every single tear I have shed for them in tenfold. They have often brought me more than a person could even hope to try, and the lessons they have taught me are something that you just can’t learn anywhere else. As corny as it sounds, they enrich my life, and I guess only an animal lover reading this will understand what I mean when I say that.

So tonight I bade farewell to Muddy Dog. In dogs years he was 91 when he passed, and was as wide as he was high. It had been years since he had done anything more energetic than a wander by the river and too sit on the grass while dad listened to the cricket near by. He had a great life, he was loved and I like to think he knew it. I’ll miss him as anyone would miss as friend when they leave them.

For the tears the family have cried over him going today, he easily gave us just as many smiles. I just hope he is happy in his storm free world now, and I look forward to seeing him again some day.

Drunk and Disorderly Behaviour

2008-01-13T21:11:00.000-08:00

So I’m trying something new tonight. As we know I often write this blog while sharing a wine or a port with myself. Not sure why really, but the way some people have to have a beer when barbequing, or have a red with dinner, I find that having a drink with my laptop is pretty much a perfect date lately (and I don’t even have to bother getting dressed up for it)

But tonight I’ve ditched the wine glass and the port bottle, and am partaking of a refreshing beer instead. I’ll blame the heat, as usually the only time I tend to have a beer is after cutting the grass. (I do understand how weird that sounds, but beer just seems to go following a big effort pushing the mower around – the mower making me feel strangely blokey and manly and in need of a drink to match) So here I sit sipping on Hahn Super Dry (subtle name drop there, lets hope Hahn now google their product, see I’ve mentioned it and send me a free carton or two)

I’ve also come down sick. Again. AGAIN. Remember late last year, where I had two or three months suffering insomnia, then sick, then not quite recovering, going back to work, then getting sick again, but like, three or so times this went on? Just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water I wake up with a head cold. Smack in the middle of summer.

I really did think it was safe to go back in the water too, and really tested this theory with a skinny dip at around the 1am mark earlier this week. It seemed like I great idea at the time, but then so did drinking my dads ‘mystery moonshine” (home made bottle of top strength brew – thanks Pa) on a school night. Mystery Moonshine probably being responsible for also thinking loseing all bikinis whilst in the pool would be a brilliant idea. Or doing swan dives in the moonlight, and handstands in the pool, sans bikini bottoms (you know just for the laugh and to see if we could see rudie bits)

Alcohol really does have a lot to answer for.

I’d stop, truly I would, if only it wasn’t having so much damn fun. I’m not condoning drinking by the way. Oh stuff it, it’s my blog, I’ll condone what I want. I’ve had some brilliant nights drunk, but then on the flip side I’ve had some really brilliant nights sober too. (and tragic / sad / heartbreaking / joyful / fun nights both with and without)

I’d love to tell you about many of my drunken exploits, but they may incriminate me. As it is I’m just lucky work has never tuned into my blog or I may find myself on the unemployment line (and back to drinking passion pop, which…just for those that didn’t know this bit of trivia, contains both fish and nut extracts. FISH EXTRACT. If you don’t believe me go check out a bottle. The fact I’ve recently discovered fish extract is part of passion pop is almost worthy of a blog enntry in its own right).

I’m also incredibly thankful that my parents don’t have net access anymore and therefore can’t tune into half the stuff that might turn their hair grey (er)

I recall fondly the night I got moved on from under the round-about in the main street for singing to the passing traffic (it was Christmas, Carollers can get away with it, why can’t I). Or the night I went to the local cop shop begging for a lift home as I feared my boyfriend at the time would be really angry if I rang, woke him up asked him to pick me up so drunk. (he was) Or the time I flagged down a cop car in a country town, with some stolen council witches hat, thinking it was a taxi cause I saw the pretty lights. (it definantly wasn’t a taxi, but thankfully, the coppers had a sense of humour. This is just as well as I hadn’t done a conventional flag down….. Id been making some really lude and rude gestures with the hats, then was up to wearing two of them like I had Madonna Boobies circa 1990’s by the time they pulled over to the gutter to speak to me. For the record, the cops ended up offering me a lift home, the younger one I learned was named Nick and was married but open to offers according to his good self. Naughy Nick.

I also did once get moved for laying down on the road doing my speed hump demonstration. I really used to excel at that. I was always deadly serious too. Like it was truly a talent no one else was blessed with (what the hell, I still believe I have a real talent for this)

I recall another time dancing in my socks in a paddock at about 6am, when I thought it was surely only about midnight, and just a really, really bright moonlight.

I’ve woken up in the back of the ute from my B&S days far too many times to remember, but thankfully, haven’t actually woken up with anyone I’ve ever regretted. (touch wood) I’ve had more hangovers than I care to remember too, and though I long to be able too, I just can’t bounce back again the next day like I use too.

Over the years I’ve gone from a hard core rum drinker, to a champagne quaffer. (I wish I knew how to spell that) So my tastes have probably improved, but I still drink like a fish and still can’t hold it to safe myself. Makes for an amusing night for everyone else though, inviting me to a party is like saving on an entertainment as I’m bound to be it

I had a huge Melbourne Cup day this year – especially considering I was at work for it (well for 45 mins in between trips to the handily placed pub opposite the office) I walked down the main street with a champagne bottle aloft, and ended up ending the night in a pub (different to the one I started in, with a different group too...I found new friends throughout the course of the day) and also completed the evening by ringing a friend and singing Elvis love songs to her. I’m not sure why, but I thought at the time she would really, truly appreciate my efforts (I like to think she did. It was quite a good rendition of Always on My Mind, I think I really nailed the chorus) I also remember expressing delight that some man I was talking to had actually referred to me by my name. I thought (in a state of great excitement) that this was SOME KIND OF SIGN, only to have him point out that I still had my staff name badge on. Again, how thankful am I work don’t read this blog? The same night before leaving, another friend had to go and fetch my fascinator from someone else head, (he was barely out of nappies but looked rather fetching in it) Apparently I had given it to him earlier. (I don’t believe this part of the story though, as it was one of my favorite fascinators and made especially to go with an outfit and had scored me a spot in the Fashions On The Field event twice).

And just a mere few nights ago I thought splashing naked in a pool would be good for me...and thus leading me to a head cold. I’ve decided I need to sleep more, drink less wine but more water, and feast on more veges and salads.

Or just go buy a good stock of Coldrel Cold and Flu capsules instead.

Anyway, my new years resolution is therefore the usual ‘be healthier, exercise more, blah blah blah’. I haven’t started yet of course, because everyone knows that January doesn’t count because you have too many events in there to even think about de-toxing. I’m on holidays for the first part for a start, then you have the post Christmas catch up drinks, Tamworth music festival (which is the only time I consider Muscat a breakfast food) Australia Day long weekend and then one last blow out with friends to discuss how you plan to start being 'good' come February 1st and need to have one more night eating and drinking what you want.

I’m usually good then, well good at least until the dreaded February 14th rolls around when I generally treat myself to a bottle of something good, and a fattening dinner as a gift to myself...because I obviously love me and need to let myself know that. I hope to surprise myself with a handmade card this year.

So come February 15th therefore, I promise I will start my new years resolution.

I plan to stay on it till at least the 16th , when I see have penciled in a road trip weekend to catch a band at the Tarago Pub. (if you have never been the this place, known as The Loaded Dog, its worth the drive. Anything goes at The Puppy) I can’t possibly not drink that weekend. Right.....so come March 1st, that’s D Day, I’m on the wagon.

I’ll stay on that wagon too, just you watch me. (thankfully, I see Easter is incredibly early this year so I have a good excuse to jump off that wagon just a few shorts weeks after I get on it).

Happy New Year Everyone. Make sure you don’t go breaking your New Years Resolution now you hear.

The Curse of The USB

2008-01-13T15:40:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure if it's a chinaman I've run over, a ladder I've walked under or if a black cat has dared to cross my path, but I seem to be attracting bad luck lately. (this is at least a change from the unsuitable men I generally attract)

Not only am I sick again (you were about to hear about it in the post I had prepared - so maybe you should count yourself lucky with what I'm about to tell you)but recently I seem to have some sort of curse when it comes to USB sticks. The other night I wrote the Love, Pain and the Whole Crazy Thing post......in other words, I sat there pouring my heart and soul into my laptop and giving it my all......got to work amongst much excitment ready to finally update my blog........and snapped my USB stick off in the work computer. (before I got a chance to save the files)

Shrugs shoulders...oh well.

Managed to retrieve USB...... (with the tweezers as the port was at a bad angle and the little pieces of metal were clinging onto it like a barnacle to a boat - or for the romantic of you, like Tom Cruise clinging onto Katie) and realised in slight alarm I had also now lost a heap of photos I was transferring.

Shurgs shoulders.......oh well. (actually I said a lot of bad words, but as you may be under the impression I'm some sweet young thang I'll refrain from mentioning that I was calling the USB stick a cheap piece of shit amongst other things)

Borrowed a USB stick next. Forgive me if Im wrong, but don't all sticks go with all laptops??? My Laptop must have become coy or something, as it refused to accept that particular stick. It stuck to its standards, refused to copy to it, didn't want a bar of it let alone to trade files.

Maybe my laptop was just very health conscious and didn't want any old stick put in it??? Maybe it took offence to the fact it was a communal USB I had borrowed that everyone had thrown in somewhere and passed around and now I wanted it to have a go too?

Either way, Toshy (my laptop, Im not great with names, Toshy the Toshiiba being up there with Microwave I named Tiffany, for obvious reasons) Anyway, Toshy clearly has high morals and wasn't accepting it.

So I got another USB. Imation brand, complete with pretty blu lights and far more your boy next door type USB than the rough and tough tradesman type one I had just broken.

We have success.

We have love between Imation and Toshy. Imation lit up like christmas, flashing his lights upon insertion and Toshy happily agreed to share files. Bliss. (they seemed so well suited I think I might get a star sign reading done for them, I think it's going to be a long term relationship)

So anyway, on my big day off on Sunday I thought I'd sit down and play with Imation and Toshy, so I could bring you some more ramblings from the land of the crazy lady.

(for those that don't remember, I don't have net access at home so tap away at the laptop and then post it while I'm at work - work are yet to click onto this apparent disrespect and abuse of net privalages and I hope they never do)

So there we are on Sunday, having a fine time writing away, wrote two blogs with one being over two thousand words (can't I say some garbage when I want??!?)

Got to work this morning to discover I have left the USB stick at home. Or somewhere anyway. It's not in my handbag, its not in my car, I just hope I havent lost it in the carpark or someone will be having a good old laugh at me right about now if they are reading it. (or trying to find its owner to book them into AA as one of the post were some fond 'drunken moments I have had' type thing).

Maybe I'm paranoid, but the fact I keep having this USB trouble makes me think Im cursed and not meant to continue with this blog. As one who likes to buck the system now and then though, I'll continue posting just to annoy everyone.

I must run now, as I'm posting this 'direct to blog' borrowing fifteen minutes of works time (which I don't feel at all guilty about as I did more than an hours overtime on Saturday afternoon so surely fifteen minutes on the net can be forgiven)

So......... if anyone sees an imation USB stick, with pretty blue lights and mourning the loss of its new friend Toshy, please send it my way so I can reunite these lovebirds.

Love, Pain and The Whole Crazy Thing

2008-01-07T17:57:00.000-08:00

Now I must warn you before you go any further. After weeks away from my blog / blob / rambling bits of stupidity I come out with etc… I have been itching to get back online and to basically fill everyone in on what has been keeping me amused these last few weeks. Being the studious employee that I am (cough / splutter / watch my nose grow) I didn’t want to write it on works time (truth be told I’ve moved desks and the communal printer is temporarily located behind my chair, meaning its hard to fart arse around on the net and not be caught. Thankfully this is being rectified tomorrow)

Because you are all at my mercy however, you get stuck reading whatever pops out of my mind each night. My mind was once described by ‘Whirly’ (Whirly being a bloke I’ve never met but who I know tunes in here quite often) as ‘a mixed back of crackers, unique obscure randomness that is hilariously impressive’ – or something along those lines. It was a great review, I smiled for ages after reading it and also made mental note to myself to dedicate a post to him soon. (He also doesn’t know it yet, but I’ll be sharing a bevvie with him next time I’m up at Darwin which I see is where he is located) So anyway, while you may have tuned in eagerly awaiting further drunken ramblings and to discover if I did indeed have myself a merry little Christmas (edited to add …. I have heard that Brother Ted did indeed have a VERY happy new year, and brought it in with a bang so to speak) I however, once again got sidetracked doing the ‘update blog’ because other thoughts are now swimming through my mind instead. (or possibly drowning, I should never let my thoughts free up there without their flotation devices, or at the very least a good stiff drink)

For some reason I’m thinking about love and relationships tonight. Maybe because I was playing the Keith Urban CD I named this post after as I drove home from a not overly great date, maybe I have listened to too one too many love songs, and maybe I just have too many ex boyfriends currently contacting me for I’m not even sure what (and I don’t know if they do either. Actually, I’d hazard a guess they are just worried about advancing age, receding hair, are sick of cooking dinner for themselves and miss my boobies….. but hey, who am I to judge?!)

I’m not very good at relationships, this much I have figured out in my adult years (For the record, I am now 29D, which in normal / boring peoples terms is 33, with my 30th being when I turned 29A. I just refuse to leave the twenties behind, and have myself so convinced I’m really only 29 that I have to think twice to work out how old I’m ‘really truly’ turning each year)

But back to love, the big issue that has been known to confuse me greatly in recent times.

In my youth I had a couple of long term relationships, the first where I lost myself completely trying to be someone I wasn’t, and yet relying on them to make me happy at the same time. I learnt a lot after the break up (pains me to admit that, but true). After that though (well, a good few years, I never was a quick learner – need I remind you of the Coles Supermarket application test?!) I think I tried so hard not to become that person again, that I now swing towards shutting people out and appear to take too lighthearted an approach instead. Where I find the balance between these two I do not know.

What I do know is that the path to contentment with a significant other is just a road I can’t seem to get myself to drive along any more. I see stop signs where I’m probably just meant to give way, so I stop completely, loose my revs and end up stalled and stranded wondering why I never joined some kind of roadside assistance program.

NRMA don’t seem interested when I call them for H-E-L-P though, which is just false advertising on their behalf really. So here I am, quietly chuffing along in the left hand lane and wondering if I overtake, stay where I am, speed up, slow down or just get off the god damn road of love altogether. (or alternatively, get pulled over by an attractive copper in uniform and have my wicked way with him)

I heard a great quote the other day, which true to my form I probably remember all back to front (I always remember things arse up, and my friends now delight in saying “the black kettle calling the pot” because I’m known to stuff up that kettle / pot saying religiously. At least I’m religious about something though I guess) Anyway, this quote was something along the lines of “never make someone your prerogative, if you are only their option”. Who ever said it was obviously basically trying to say the attraction / love / intensity etc needs to be pretty equal. Get it out of balance, make them your everything and be only just there something means chances are its not a healthy relationship and you probably aren’t going to make it the minute your road leaves the highway and hits the rough stuff. (I’m loving the driving analogy tonight aren’t I?)

I really love that saying (even if I did say it wrong) but it got me to thinking about the other sides of the coin though. What happens when you are two completely different people looking at things from opposite sides of the spectrum, and your views and present life are at odds with the object of your desire? Do you give up? Do you chuck it in and settle down instead of up? Do you act like its musical chairs and instead grab the first man next to you when you hit 30 and the music stops playing in your head?

I’m always against all of the above. (well, have been since I learnt that early ‘lessons in love’ thing I mentioned somewhere in paragraph four) I have no ticking clock in me that thinks I have to rush out and settle down with whatever bloke seems acceptable. I don’t demand a lot of another person any more. I don’t want constant ‘I love you’s, I don’t want anything on valentines day, and I don’t want to feel the need to check with someone else before saying yes to weekends away with friends, spending money on what I want instead of need and I don’t actually even know if I want to get married.

I do however want to know, just know, that they love me. I hate hearing it said as an automatic response though. I hate that automatic, dull “I love you too” that is often said with no thought or emotion behind it, that is said just as a respond to the same dull “I love you” that you have just given them because you are about to drive to work or hang up the phone.

For me, I would rather hear “I love you” only once a lifetime, and know that at that moment, that second in time, they mean it with every single fibre of their body….I’d so much rather that than get a card saying it just because I expect it on valentines day. I don’t think there is anything to be said for flowers and chocolates. That’s romance yes, but it isn’t love.

I want to know, just know for sure, that someone loves me. I don’t want to get married in front of a hundred friends, because I want to know they love me and don’t feel the need to say it in front of others, I can’t help but think all of that is just for those watching, like its going to prove it to me, to themselves, to everyone watching.

If it’s real, I’ll just know.

If it’s real, they will agree with my suggestion of why bother even getting married, or agree that running away and eloping is so much more special. Just a special day for the two of you, where you are both so comfortable and assured of each others love that you don’t need to make a song and dance of it. That just saying ‘I do’ at each other only, with no one else there, is more than enough.

And I don’t even know about that sometimes, because at the end of the day I hate the thought of making a promise. It’s so much to ask of anyone. All I can hope is that I will feel this way forever, and they will feel the same way too. How do you promise it? You can’t promise anything really in this life, you just hope you will love them forever, and do your damnest to try. It’s a lot to ask of the human mind and spirit to feel the same way in fifty, sixty, seventy years that you do today. Sometimes I think it’s too much. Sometimes I think it’s just asking for trouble. People change. You have to grow, you have to develop. It’s what may keep you in love or it’s what may pull you apart. It’s the not knowing that makes it exciting.

So now maybe you will see why I am in the quandary once again about love. Because I want love, but I don’t want anymore what is perceived in society as ‘love’, such as marriage and children. I want my own version of love, love that is so simple in its element you need just it, and it alone.

Try to explain that though and I get in a mess. I come across as not wanting a relationship and end up thinking maybe I don’t after all, breaking up and then thinking maybe I should have tried harder to convey what I wanted. Or I end up in relationships that aren’t committed because they perceive me as a ‘free spirit’ and haven’t really grasped my whole garbled love view at all. To a degree I suppose I am a free sprit, but I don’t give up on finding some sort of harmony and commitment to one person and seeing where it takes us.

No wonder NRMA couldn’t offer HELP here.

Even I have trouble following my own thoughts on it all. I’m also really against all those planned proposals you hear about. Romantic they may appear to some, but they leave me stone cold. I hate the thought of calculating it out, planning the biggest impact, the most impressive way. I want someone to just turn to me one day and ask me, out the blue when I least expect, when THEY least expect it, because something in that moment makes them look at me and think “she’s it”. They have to ask then and there, because they can’t not ask. The choice isn’t there for them anymore. It’s just a moment that is.

So that’s how I want my love. No rings, no promises. I don’t want to share bank accounts, have to check up on someone or have them check up on me. I don’t want a traditional romance, I don’t even know if I want to ever live with someone again. (goodness knows, If I wasn’t me I couldn’t put up with living with myself) so I find myself caught time and again with wondering where the hell I am at and if indeed I’m normal in my thinking. Am I really in that much of a minority in my thoughts?

I want love to make me laugh, make me cry, make sing, make me sad.

I want it to frustrate me, overwhelm me, confound me and amaze me.

I want to feel out of control and out of my depth, like I’m flying high across the sky, scared of where I’m going but not so scared I want to return to earth.

What I don’t want is for love to confuse me anymore.

I'm Baaaaack.

2008-01-06T18:46:00.001-08:00

Hold onto your hats folks, (and your grog, and even possibly your men) I'm back.

Following a brief stint down the south coast, then up the north coast (I know, I get around don't I) I am now back on deck. (or back on the chair at work at least, once again appearing busy and important and looking like its a right fluster of activity here in my corner)

Standby while I fill you in tonight on my recent escapades involving..well... what they usually involve. An overindulgence in unsuitable food, unsuitable drinks and unsuitable men.

The Claytons Post

2007-12-17T18:53:00.000-08:00

This isnt a real post, its your Claytons variety. Its the post you have when you aren't having a post. Its the post you get when the writer is half cut following a boozy festive lunch and is trying desperatly hard to act sober at work.

My plan is simple, sound like I am busily tapping away on the keyboard and hard at work. My head is spinning, Im wishing more champagne would magically appear in my glass of water, and I give you this post warts and all, complete with any typos.

This afternoon (a mere three hours away) heralds the arrival of another christmas drinks event (I just decided to get in early). My office is located (MOST conveniently) opposite a pub. (I know.... someitmes the Universe just looks after me huh). Hark the drunken staff workers sing...........at times like this we love our job.

The Festive season (or the Pisstivity Season as I affectionatly call it) is my favourite time of year. Along with Melbourne Cup day (where I was drunk AND possibly very disorderly at work...as well as passing out fascinators to each staff member, even the balding ones) we seem to be able to sneak in behavior such as this without loosing our jobs.

Wishing to get a head start, a co-worker and I decided a glass of bubbles was in order to set us up nicely for 5pm drinks. This soon led to a bottle of bubbles(we are thrifty you see, works out much better financially to purchase a whole bottle) and soon led to us having a long lunch and coming back in here being startled at everyone elses sober demenour. No one seems to mind though, which is why I truly love Christmas. Not only can you wear red and green together (and not be laughed at), not only can you wear earings that flash, tinsel in your hair and antlers on your head if you so desire, but you can arrive back from lunch half cut, intent on doing nothing but annoy other staff all afternoon and no one turns a blind eye.

Yes, I truly love Christmas. Its food, its drink, its everything to excess which is how I occasionally love to live life.

I do have a serious post for you all somewhere, should I manage to locate my USB stick where I stored it last night, sadly, the USB eludes me right now, and is lost somewhere in the depths of my handbag. But like Christmas.......its coming.

Patience my friends, patience.

Now, where did I put the champagne????

Roll On, Roll On...

2007-12-16T20:14:00.000-08:00

At the risk of sounding like a broken record (or should that be broken MP3 these days?) I'm crook again and have as a result been unable to post.

Lets try that again.........I have been really, really crook!!! Sympathy please!!!!! After much to-ing and fro-ing from Doctors and a fortune spent on ear drops, throat lozengers, antibitoics and painkillers, I am now happy to announce I am on the road to recovery. (we think anyway)

All that excitement recently regarding being in the big smoke for the week, and I got so sick I barely glanced sideways at the shops (oh alright, I did manage to drag self to Krispy Kremes a couple of times before I really went downhill). I'm still deaf in one ear though, which is only enhancing my singing ability I believe.

I must rush though, as I really hate these boring, empty posts of me complaining of being ill, of which there have been too many lately.

Heres to a healthy 2008!!! See you tommorow in the meantime :-)

What Happened to My Shoes?

2007-12-09T12:52:00.000-08:00

Now I've told you all before I'm not very good with this whole blog thing. I'm surprised I've managed to get it this far. Some things still elude me (like how to list my favourite posts and rename all the links) and now I've gone and stuffed up my shoes as well. For anyone wondering about the shoes, I did say previously I'm an accesories girl, I thought the bright coloured shoes reflected nicely the sheer fabulousness (as we now know, fabulousness is one of my favourite words, Im working on getting it in the Macquarie Dictionary) of the ramblings on this blog.

But they seem to be dissapearing on me. Has anyone else noticed? I thought maybe it was just my PC it was doing it on (how I long for a a Mac by the way...) but as I type this I sit here in York Street Sydney at an internet Cafe, and still my shoes are dissapearing! I have reset it, reloaded it, and just can't get them back.

So excuse my shoes, if I was a horse I would be calling the farrier (blacksmith for the non horsey of you) for help. I've thrown a shoe and I'm going lame.

Now I'm about to hit post, but before I do let me explain that its Monday morning, but as Im a techno nuff nuff, I don't know how to change the time to reflect that. According to my blob its Sunday evening. Yeah, whatever.

Also, a big shout out to my brothers Co-Workers. I have heard some of them tune in daily for a fix of my intoxicating life so I wanted to say hello (and get the hell back to work!)

I'm off to go shoe shopping..........see you say, Wednesday.

The One About Pearla

2007-12-09T12:38:00.000-08:00

I have a friend who I often refer to as the 'sunshine in my life'. Right now though, Im trying very hard to not be selfish and to wish her well as she departs the country for six months to do aid work overseas. I will be sending all my good vibes her way to travel safe and enjoy the ride, but boy am I going to miss her.

My friend Pearla is a rare gem of a girl. I would nominate her as the girl most likely....well the girl most likely to be everything really. Make me laugh, listen to me cry, do crazy things when drunk, brighten up my life all round. If I could I would send her ‘straight to the pool room’ as she is valued so highly amongst the list of people in my life who help my world go round.

Whilst it may sound corny, I feel truly blessed to have her as part of my world. She has never judged me, but has certainly guided me when I’ve needed it in her gentle way. I'm going to miss her more than the sunflowers miss the sunshine when its not there. Without her I will probably be not quite as sure which way to turn my head, and loose just a tiny bit of my bloom. I have spent some of my funniest memories laughing with her, sometimes even at her. For Pearla on wine is a joy to behold, and her nickname comes from the many pearls and gems she comes out with.

Next year will see her fufilling a dream and going overseas to do aid work. That’s just the sort of girl she is I guess. A heart bigger than all five foot of her.

I’ve been lucky in my life to find some truly beautiful, special friends, who I know instinctly will be there for all my remaining days. Without a moments hesitation, I can say she is one of them.

I’ll miss you my friend, but I hope this endevour brings you everything you wish for and already I look forward to your safe return.

I raise my glass to you :-)

Family Ties

2007-12-09T12:13:00.000-08:00

Big Kev excitement in my little world this week, I’m off to stay with the Big T in the Big Smoke. (you can read about the Big T here http://lifesnotalwaysbeautiful.blogspot.com/2007/11/one-about-my-brother.html ) Such excitement as this small town girl hits the big shops. Sadly, work didn’t arrange my little jaunt in line with my pay days, so I won’t exactly be able to paint the town red while I’m there. More like shade in bits of it with a 2B pencil is all.

I’m not really a Sydney gal, overall I prefer the main strip of my pretty semi rural town to shop in, and often joke that I have trouble ‘crossing the bridge’. (no, not the Harbour Bridge, just the bridge that leads from my place to the rest of the world on the other side of the river). I find comfort in my local pubs (especially when they know you so well you score a free drink now and then), love to have a chat to local store owners, enjoy running into at least a few people every time I venture down the street, and since a Target Country opened at the end of the main road I rarely find a reason to venture anywhere offering more.

However, Sydney at Christmas is a sparkler.

I can’t wait to squiz at the Myer and David Jones City Store, and to wander through the QVB. I don’t actually know if I’ve ever bought anything in the Queen Vic come to think of it, but don’t I think it’s a beautiful building? And at Christmas, she just outdoes herself. So I can’t wait. (I better add seeing as work are sending me down that I intend to study hard during the day of course)

Whilst enjoying the delights of Syd-en-ey at Christmas, I will also be residing at Brother Teds, who lives pretty much in, if not quite the heart of the great city itself, then in some other major organ or blood vessel near by. We intend to drink a wine or two, waffle stories to each other and watch some sweet but obscure movies he always manages to find. (must have more patience in the video ezy than I). (edited to add........ of course he has more patience than I, I'm pretty well known for being the most impatient person in if not the world, then at least Australia)

Following this jaunt I return on the weekend for what is known as the Walker family Christmas. Now this tradition has been going on for so long I can’t actually remember a time without it. We Walkers are big into family. Big I tell you. Though we live scattered up and down the coast, we manage to keep in touch with aunts, uncles, cousins, and second cousins. No mean feat it appears according to friends who rarely see or hear from their distant relatives.

So come Saturday the family Christmas day is on. It generally involves copious amounts of food and drink, and what appears to be copious amounts of children and partners these days too. There always has to be someone to go against the trend, to buck the system, to stand alone though..........Not surprisingly, that’s always me.

I rock up single, and childless and generally empty handed. (I find it easier than buying a whole picnic for one person to just give someone some money and let me share theirs. I’m usually there for the drink factor anyway, not the food) This year the Big T happens to be flying solo too, so at least I won’t be the only one. Every year I dutifully express shock and delight at the growing children and give everyone the in a nutshell version of what I’ve been doing throughout the year. This is generally entirely fabricated to make me sound at least slightly interesting, but this year I can just hand out a blog address and tell them to knock themselves out.

We can generally count on a few things at the family Christmas day 1. That someone will get hurt (strangely, its generally the adults not the kids) 2. That at least half the attendees have overcatered (to make up for the few, like me, who undercater, or don’t cater at all – (I pack a mean cooler bag though) and that 3. Someone drinks to much. (Again, I stand out for this one too).

At some stage some well meaning relative will probably ask how I am, or “how are you really?”. Each year I consider thinking up alarming stories just to keep them happy (cause a 'fine thanks' never seems to suffice). This year I will probably invent a boyfriend, as most seem to think if someone is on the scene I really am fine. (Don't you love the way couples think singles must be just gagging for a partner???)

Often there is singing, and I also generally express envy over my younger cousins tan. I fear this year my second cousin who must now be eleven or so may have grown out of ponies, I really hope not, as she is the one kid I really look forward to sharing a conversation with, as she reminds me of the eleven year old me. (see, its all about me.....'how am I really though'?!)

We have had some memorable days over the year, at these events. Perhaps nothing quite as memorable as The Big Ts big break, when he swung wildly with the bat during a very drunken backyard cricket match and promptly smattered all the bones in his hand to smithereens. (What’s really amusing about this is that I had made him play cricket, fearing we were both too drunk for the spa just yet and needed to sober up). Anyway, with a wild miss hit he spun around, landed between bat and ground and sent us all into a panic as we realized none of us were sober enough to drive. Nabbing the possibly one sober cousin and borrowing a van, a bunch of us piled, drunk, raucous, barefoot, sunburned and overexcited into the vehicle to accompany him to the local hospital. Dr soon gave up on typing into the computer our answers to “have you had any alchohol in the last twelve hours" (the answer was long and extensive) shut up and merely trundled Brother Ted off to the plaster room. As we were all plastered (litereally) already, we found this hilarious. Twice we were asked to keep it down.

I took happy snaps on the camera phone, sister and I laughed till we cried, and brother by that time was in fairy land on a combination of painkillers and alcohol and possibly complete shock. (which made us laugh even more at the absolute gems he was coming out with)

Yes, the walker family Christmas never fails to deliver the goods. I await to see what this years brings with bated breath…….and a full esky ready to go.

Cue Violins.......

2007-12-06T22:32:00.000-08:00

If you can please get out your violins for me it would be most appreciated. I've been strangely quite this week (there's something we don't see often) due to being sick AGAIN.

Im currently laying low (or more like lolling on the lounge and watching quality tv including the likes of Naked Wild On on E! Channel. (I particuarly love the exclamation mark on E! Channel by the way) with a middle ear infection. How I got it is beyond me, as earlier in the week I had tonsilitis coming on (possibly due to things involving candles and two ends) promptly went the Dr (hoping to nip it in the bud) and took double the prescribed amount of antibitoics for two days. Tonsils have gone down (hooray) but my ear drum is apparently the colour of a tomato. (or Sheila my garden gnomes hat). So I'm a sad and miserable site at the moment, can barely hear a thing and my entire head echos each time I try to talk. (co-workers are probably enjoying this, as its really kept me quiet for once)

Even more alarming is the fact I just knocked back the 5pm offer of a glass of bubbly. Crikey! I am crook!!!!!!

As Im in pain, on both pain killers, antibiotic tablets and antibitoical ear drops and feeling more than a little fragile, I daren't have a drink this evening (oh alright, not in public anyway) for fear of turning into a sniffling sorry mess full of 'woe is me'. (I'll save that for later and no doubt tell you about it tommorow).

So here is a quick post for those wondering where the hell the crazy chick has gotten too for the last few days. (pretty sure some were beginning to think the christmas party was going to knock me out till next year - but can't keep a good women down obviously)

Anyway folks.........must run. Time for me to depart work (I had missed enough and thought I better make an appearance today to check my position was still open) and head back to prime viewing position on the lounge. I note with excitement the new series of Americas Next Top Model has also begun, so must watch the recording of it tonight and give you all a recap on the moles this year. And of course Tyras outfits.

I'll leave you wating, breathless with anticipation........

Its Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.

2007-12-02T20:54:00.000-08:00

I'd love to update you and post a new blog today, but I'm just not capable. (Not capable of anything near decent anyway)

I'm currently in recovery from the staff Christmas Party and busy trying to revive the brain cells that seem to have been either killed off, or are in a comotose state and not yet ready to fire again following the great event.

Here is the photographic evidence of my demise, and as this second shot was taken a good four hours prior to the end of the night, you may understand why today we have no witty or thought provoking entry for you.

We went from this...

To this.........

All within a very short time frame.

I blame champagne, I blame lack of sleep, I blame the staff that kept refilling my glass, I blame everyone but myself really.

So agh, yes. Stay tuned..............

And Here We Are...

2007-11-29T15:14:00.000-08:00

And here we are, the morning after the evening before. I have slept for maybe an hour at the most, in which I woke up myself up screaming from a nightmare I can’t even remember now. Today was meant to be my day off, I planned to sleep in, enjoy a leisurely brunch, pamper myself for the planned staff Christmas Party this evening. I was meant to be polishing my jingle bells and getting into festive party mode.

Instead I still sit here wide awake with troubles in my head and too many thoughts for it to even contemplate shutting down and resting.

For the very small handful of friends who know the meaning behind the post below, thank you for mopping me up and offering solutions to puzzles that I can’t seem to put together myself at the moment.

Where to from here I’m still not sure, but its good to know whichever way I go there will be people coming with me to hold my hand.

"And I'll be riding high, in a fandangled sky...
Its gonna be easy, it's gonna be easy from now on"

Somehere Over The Rainbow

2007-11-29T15:05:00.000-08:00

When I joked earlier today that a serious post was heading towards you, I didn’t actually know how true my words would ring. I said it half heartedly, thinking perhaps it was time to throw a thoughtful entry your way, stop being the funny one for a while. Yet how true it is, as I sit here crying and forcing myself to stop and breathe, and calm the fear that is in my heart.

As a blog that is read by both those who do know me, and those that are yet to meet me, I’m struggling to find the words today to say what I want, with the least offence to anyone who might stumble across this in future years. Who knows if the people involved may discover this some time in the distance, and while I’m angry at them and the situation we have come too, I have no wish to hurt anyone along the way.

Last year on New Years Eve I had told both myself and anyone listening that 2007 was going to be my year. My time to shine.

Now 2008 is marching towards me and I’m more than ready for it, so ready…because I wish to bid farewell to 2007, the year that could have been but wasn’t.

It wasn’t my year after all, and I don’t think I could pinpoint a month for you throughout it that hasn’t seen me on a roller coaster journey of emotion. I’m disappointed in myself for thinking like this, to waste my time wishing the days away, when there would be others out there who have only weeks remaining and would treasure each moment as it went by. I see my selfishness, and I am disgusted by it.

Yet the anger in me wants 2007 to go away, the anger in me wants 2008 now, a fresh year, a fresh start, a fresh outlook. Like the ticking second hand of the clock is somehow going to magically rejuvenate my life as it marks the way to a new era.

Already I am telling myself 2008 will now be my year just to keep me hanging on to get through the current one. I do not know if I have disappointed others recently, but I know that they have disappointed me. That things weren’t as expected, and that the lines of communication did not flow.

Funny really, how communication can be a hard one for me, yet words flow so easily across the page.

Its not a partner causing me these issues either, maybe if it were I could handle it better, have been on the same road before and knew where and how to comfort away the confusion and hurt. Felt comfortable enough to retaliate, to demand answers to questions or to discuss matters that needed saying.

But its not a male, and I haven’t stood on this path before to know just what to do. I sit here instead, crying, breathing, being. Wondering which road to go down next, or whether to just turn back the way I came and go home.

Home.

They say it’s where the heart is, but what happens when you have moved around so much you aren’t quite sure where you left your heart last? Or you are worried you will travel back there, only to find it’s not what you remembered?

If I were Dorothy here is where I put on my red shoes and click my heels, wishing to be magically whisked home, to safety.

I don’t feel safe tonight, nor do I feel comfortable. I feel upset, hurt, angry, scared, confused and lost, all in my own house. I know we are all searching for something in this life. The Tin Man, The Scarecrow, The Lion, all on the lookout for parts of them that are missing. A heart, a brain, courage. A home.

I’m searching for home tonight. Trying to make clear in my muddled mind if I should click my red heels or continue down the yellow brick road I find myself on.

2007 hasn’t given me the journey I wanted so far, I have found both witches and wizards, but no rainbow, and certainly no rainbows end. Every time I spot it on the horizon, I blink and it disappears from my vision, leaving behind just enough of a memory to make me keep on looking for it over every hill, wanting to glimpse its beauty once more.

Everyone is out there searching for something, I just need to work out if I am looking for a home, or if I am looking for a way out of a journey that seems too hard to contemplate in my weary state.

Like love, friendship too is a fickle thing.

Tonight I leave you so I can search for those red shoes and dream of coming home. We aren’t in Kansas anymore Toto, and we need to rest up for the journey ahead.

Sheila the Wonder Gnome............And winners announcement!!!

2007-11-28T16:10:00.001-08:00

Leaving me both shocked and stunned M.B.R.A.I.N http://www.blogger.com/profile/06024822415725982157 has come up with the correct Pick the Pub Answer!!! Huge round of applause please..........

I'm intriqued and impressed by his pub knowledge, as the 'Mando Pub' (also my old home town) is located in Mandurama NSW, and has a grand population of about 96 residents (so isn't exactly a well known place - it should be famous given time though, seeing as I used to reside there) In fact I used to joke about the Bright Lights of Madurama - all three of them - we had a pub, a general store and a servo. If you ever get to do a weekend drive though, be sure to head over the range to check it out, stopping for beers and photo opportunities as you go.

Today I also have to quickly add a photo of my new special friend - Sheila, the naked gnome. Every garden needs one of these, and if you want to track down one of her sisters I hear they live in the $2 bargain store in Oxford Street (though Sheila - being the quality she is - was worth close to $6)

So without further ado / adu / agadoo dooo dooo

I'll return tommorow, and to everyones despair...........yes folks, I feel a serious post brewing.

Pick The Pub....

2007-11-26T16:15:00.001-08:00

I failed to mention in the below post (but maybe the eagle eyed of you have noticed) I HAVE LEARNT TO LINK. This excites me no end (it doesn't take much does it, for this the men in my life have been grateful) as I can stop telling people to 'scroll down' when I refer to a past post, which is just a polite way of saying go find it amongst the ramble yourself really.

So round of applause for me......... *bows down*. I have now conquered both pictures and linking. You should be excited too, as this opens up a whole world of opportunities for us.

To celebrate this, Im adding this small 'Pick the Pub quiz' (shut up all of you who know the answer, especially if you actually took this picture of me.. this is definently cheating)

Please email your answers and I'll announce the grand prize and winner. (which won't be up to the standard of prize I won at the 'Birthday BBQ that wasn't' yesterday (scroll down, I'm over linking already) because I won a fabulous (pic coming soon) naked garden gnome called Sheila, who sports the perkiest set of boobies I have seen in a long time. (in fact, Im rather jealous of Sheilas rack, I thought mine weren't bad at all till I clapped my eyes on hers)

Anyway, here we go...........Pick the Pub! As you can see its called the Royal and it's located somewhere in rural NSW. (Yep, that should narrow it down seeing as its Aussie Tradition to have a Royal in pretty much every rural town you go through. Its also tradition I stop at pretty much every pub in every town as I go through it, this makes for very long road trips)

Just Call Me Slacker

2007-11-26T14:17:00.000-08:00

Due to what can only be described as me being a slackarse because of a variety of reasons (we will mainly blame a virus last week and of course...work, which continues to rudely interrupt my social schedule) I just haven't had a chance to entertain you all with snippets of my rivetting (cough / splutter / embaressed snigger) life.

To bring you briefly up to speed, there was me having the shits last thursday for a couple of days (literally folks... the toilet and I became best friends during this time, and Glen 20 shares probably raised dramatically), then a flurry of activity over the weekend involving work (again, sadly interrupting my social shedule) a lunch date, a talent quest, an election watch, a BBQ and a drink / supper date (come to think of it I didn't actually get to the supper part Sunday night, having a quick drink was the only energy I could sum up).

During this time I also had to cope with mourning over the loss of Johnny, and somehow squeeze in writing a letter to Channel Nine (who are in my bad books anyway following the great axing of Fanny Farm/McLeods Daughters - but we'll moan about that later) about their use of an exclamation mark in their 'Kevin Rudd Wins Election!' banner they had across the top of the screen throughout their coverage (you can read about it here also http://inanunquietmind.blogspot.com/2007/11/elect-shredder.html) I can't begin to tell you how much it annoyed me that exclamation mark. Actually I could, but I won't bore you like I possibly did the household I was in Saturday night. (no, I must say something, I just didn't think an exclamation mark was required, it was too "take that Johnny" for my liking). Anyway, so Johnny (who made me teary during his speech, but as a friend pointed out to me yesterday when I told her this, I also cry during Sex and The City - thus prooving I'm can tear up at things I really shoudn't) so Johnny is out and Kev is in. Big Kev exciting for his fans, but I'm still coming to grips with it all I'm afraid.

I also need to give a shout out to "the brilliant minded co-worker" I mentioned here http://lifesnotalwaysbeautiful.blogspot.com/2007/11/as-only-i-can-or-todays-looser-status.html as she is currently at home sick (which is making work quite unbearable as I have no one to snigger at our other co-workers with)

I also need to shout out (aren't I the noisy one today.....all this yelling) a belated happy birthday to my friend whose BBQ I attended on Sunday not knowing it was indeed a birthday BBQ. Knowing Pearla though (not her real name, must protect identities) I just assumed we were BBQ-ing to celebrate the fact it was Sunday. (she generally doesn't need an excuse to have people over to drink, often the fact its Sunday is more than enough for her)

Anyway, luckily no one seemed shocked I had forgotten (i'm well known for only knowing my own birth date, and maybe Jesus Christ's... everyones else eludes me) I was slightly embaressed upon logging on to facebook on returning home though, to discover I had actually RSVP'd to something called a 'birthday BBQ' a while ago and had forgotten all about it. (I didn't just manage to forget her birthday, I also clean forgot about the BBQ I had RSVP'd to as well till I spoke to her Sunday morning about 'unrelated matters'. More on that later)

And now I have to run............... I shall return later on today (nothing like building the suspense) to catch up on the 'random bits of dumbass info' about me for you all.

Where oh where has my little mind gone? Oh Where oh where can it be....

2007-11-21T16:41:00.000-08:00

I’d like to report a robbery please. Actually, I think there has been some sort of mass theft happen as I have quite a few items that can’t be accounted for right now. Namely my sense of humour, my heart and my mind. The reason I think they have been stolen is that no matter how much I like to think so, my heart and my mind generally don’t see eye to eye, and one truly doubts they have run off together like a pair of lovestruck teenagers on Home and Away.

They rarely agree on anything, so I just can’t imagine them coming to the conclusion that a road trip with just them two might be a good idea. And if so, where the hell has ‘humour’ gone? Have they once again left him behind or did he take off when he heard the plans being made?

Turn sideways and that one just slips away from you, I have to keep a very tight rein on him. He reminds me of a toddler the way he bounces around one minute, but then take away his lollies and all hell breaks loose. ‘Humour’s older siblings, ‘mind’ and ‘heart’ do often try escape him. Sometimes I think they just want ‘humour’ to take a rest and shut up for once.

Now back to where the hell have they gone and who took off with who. Whilst ‘mind’ is bossy, and probably would have been the one to suggest it, if they are in fact on their way to Byron Bay in a combi van right now, ‘heart’ probably would be busily telling ‘mind’ he doesn’t’ know what he is talking about the entire trip, and is trying to head them back towards the south coast instead.

I’ve known them both for 33 years now, and only once I’ve managed to get them to agree to the one thing. And during the brief moments ‘heart’ and ‘mind’ stop squabbling, ‘humour’ generally pipes up and starts ribbing them and we all fall apart again. ‘Humour’ you see, is a bit of a larrikin and generally manages to ruin ‘heart’ and ‘minds’ best moments with inappropriate laughter. Like I said, he is a joy to have around, but such a child.

So where all three of them are right now I’m not entirely sure. I’m unclear if someone snuck in while I wasn’t paying attention and whipped them away from me, or if they have indeed banded together and taken off into the wild blue yonder.

Either way, if anyone sees a trio of ‘humour’, ‘mind’, and ‘heart’ flurrying around somewhere please bundle them up and head them towards this direction. While we are at it, I also seem to have lost the plot, so if you see a nice looking plot on the loose can you please grab it as it goes by. I’m happy to accept a new one, with any luck it will have a bit more direction and keep the other three in check.

To ‘heart’, ‘mind’ and ‘humour’ though, if you are reading this, please come back to me. I promise I will treat you better from now on……..

The Poodle Wears Prada

2007-11-20T20:00:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had one of those nights, where you have fallen asleep utterly exhausted on the lounge, woken up stiff necked and bleary eyed (and generally with the TV still on E! Channel, which is not surprisingly the only news channel I watch) to then go ahead and wake yourself up all over again in a flurry of last minute chores and some hard core go to bed routine that you just can’t break? (well, if your idea of hard core is bringing in the washing, feeding the poodle and brushing your teeth – its nothing but erotica in my house folks) Anyway, I have done just that and now sit here wide awake after apparently fooling my body into thinking it was 7am (the morning routine is very similar you see, but we add doing our hair and practicing our smile into it).

Now before you get all clever on me (I’m the brainy one here, remembering I’m in the bottom 9% to ever sit the Coles Supermarkets exam) don’t get to thinking I’m sitting here awake at whatever time the post entry time above may actually tell you, and go believing me to be wingeing and moaning about being awake at approx 9.10pm. Due to my stand against the telephone companies (Scroll down, still haven’t learned to link posts – despite my winning style on the grocery store aptitude test) I don’t even have net access at home. To my employers utter dismay (and possible surprise when they read this) I regularly have to borrow both their time and broadband access to keep everyone riveted on my day to day life (thanks also goes to whoever in the world is rated above the 9% by chain stores, as they were obviously smart enough to invent the USB stick for me as well as doing a sterling job as a shelf packer – forgive me if I sound cynical, I guess I haven’t quite yet recovered from the Coles rejection email debacle)

So here I sit buzzing with life (sadly not literally), poodle as always (apart from a rather depressing post further down the page) by my side. For everyone’s viewing pleasure I thought I would throw in a photograph of her tonight………….excuse her big hair, she is a bit of a fan of the 80’s apparently.

I should probably add I don’t actually own this poodle, somewhere along the line she just adopted me somehow, and I became the proud surrogate mother to a dog that sports an array of clothing that would rival Carrie Bradshaw. (though she doesn’t have any stilettos, so that’s probably not a very good comparison) What I most like about this canine (apart from her toothy grin and beguiling eyes) is that in summer she gets quite the stylish hair do (courtesy of the Puppy Parlour Fluff and Fold) and teams her look with what I like to think of as her very own ugg boots (like a true slave to fashion – much like her big hair – she chooses to wear her legs covered when the rest of her is bare) She is the epitome of cutting edge style. It got me to thinking (something I clearly do far too much of) that as far as I know there isn’t actually a Vogue for Dogs, and maybe I could begin one for other fashion savvy puppies out there?

Speaking of fashion (we probably weren’t but it’s my blog and I’ll say what I want) I’d also like to speak out about this Emo kid look. I would like especially to speak out about skinny jeans on boys and men. What I’d like to say as I speak out I’m not actually sure, just that I DON”T LIKE IT ONE BIT. (nor have I seen it featured in Vogue, not once – for dogs, cats or otherwise) (Come to think of it – I also didn’t like the oversized jean look either – when are designers going to find a happy medium for the world of denim?)

I feel a bit better now I’ve had my say on all that. While we are here I think I would like to quickly speak out about oversized buttons and the return of the mullet too. You won’t find my (surrogate) poodle wearing any of it while I’m alive. (actually I take back the mullet part, her hair does tend to veer more towards the Billy Ray Cyrus look than we would both care to admit)

Moving on from fashion (we weren’t really moving anywhere but can I remind you again I’m the author of this rant) I would also like to speak out about the smell of moth balls, a majority of the men I’ve dated, and people who walk slowly in front of me.

I refuse to speak out against wine, as I’m partaking of one now (this makes approximately 98% of this entire blog written whilst under the influence of some kind – if not by alcohol than by my own melancholy – or at worst, both)

Before I leave you (I think I’ve spoken out enough for one night) I thought I would give you one last picture of the grey prancing powder puff who doesn’t answer to Jessica (at twelve years of age, she is a little slow in learning her name) who is looking not quite as full of Christmas cheer as I believe I was when I decided a poodle would indeed look fabulous in a pair of antlers.

And now……I’m off to try to get some sleep. See you say, Friday.

A Warm Fuzzy Moment For You

2007-11-18T19:40:00.000-08:00

Just wanted to share with you a little thought today, it’s a treasured one that I sometimes take out of the memory box in my mind and I never fail to recall it with a smile.

Some years ago I was living and working in the centre of Sydney. I took a bus daily to work, and would spend most mornings sitting in silence cursing the public transport system. This particular morning was worse than usual. It was a Monday for a start, and it was raining heavily. It was a cold dismal day, the seats were wet, and workers were unhappily filing onto the bus after a weekend off, grimly ignoring each other, sitting with glazed expressions on faces.

I'm afraid I was one of them.

I don’t think one person wanted to be on that bus, on that day, facing the dreary weather and the start of another dreary week.

As the bus began to get crowded, rude messages were muttered under breaths and rude looks given as wet bags brushed past people. You could feel it in the air, that trapped feeling of being somewhere you didn't want to be. We all in turn stared blankly out the windows as the rain came down.

Then we stopped for a new passenger. I craned my neck up to see who the hold up was and why the big delay in getting us moving again. A downes syndrome girl had gotten onto our bus, and her mum was nervously trying to explain to the bus driver where she was too get off at and that someone would be waiting for her at the other end of her ride.

The girls face was so different to ours. She was so excited you could see, to be on this bus ride by herself. Her face was optimistic and hopeful, joyful.... so different to the expressions we all wore. There were no seats left by then, so she stood alone near the front luggage area, smiling around. Most ignored her, but I watched fascinated.

Waving her arm around indicating the streets outside, and with a big smile she announced to the bus in general that everything was pretty now, it was wet, see how it shines?

Likes fans uniting with a Mexican wave, smiles and warmth seemed to flow around our bus. We looked again, but this time with her eyes. Where we had seen greyness, she was seeing glitter. She kept pointint it out to us. The shiny trees, the shiny cars and shiny road. Pretty soon our bus was full of shiny happy people too, as we got caught up in watching her delight at something so simple. You could almost feel the mood lift as we all became a little less cynical about things for just a little while.

I think sometimes life just sends you little moments like that to surprise you. A little warm fuzzy for you to tuck away and take out again when needed.

The memory of her and the happiness she brought is as vivid in my mind as the day it happened. That simple enjoyment and the reaction it caused in the bus, lifting and lightning our mood. I don’t know who or where she is, but I hope she is out there, continuing to be the sunshine of someones life, and still seeing the glitter through the grey.

It's All About the Looks.............. (or) The Morning After)

2007-11-18T19:08:00.000-08:00

Now words aren’t going to come easy to me tonight I’m afraid, thanks to the hangover from hell where I once again have only myself to blame.

I spent yesterday looking forward to drinking something sparkly in the sun at a friend’s house warming BBQ later that day. I therefore took myself off to the local bottlo in search of something suitable to refresh me (ignoring any advice from the staff as I went - of which I did regret later on) Bearing in mind it had to come in under budget (budget being as cheap as possible without actually resorting to passion pop) I was delighted to find a shelf of Omni wines and champagnes, all sporting labels with the magic $9.99. Yes folks we had found a winner. Perusing the shelf closer held even more suprises, as each range wore an array of pretty labels... Omni Blu, Omni Green, Omni Pink, the list went on.

Then I saw it, like love at first sight my heart skipped a beat....Omni Red. With its bright red vivid label, it would complete my summer BBQ outfit perfectly.

Now I’ll admit I am a bit of an accessories girl, and today’s look included a red and white spotted headband, red and white spotted thick wooden bangle, red ballet flats and a ducky little red handbag. 'Thank you Omni' I was thinking as I took it down from the shelf, for completing my outfit today. It was the perfect finishing touch.

So off I go with my matching bottle of wine (had no idea what it held, just that it was under ten dollars and looked a treat as I carried it in with its red label proudly on display) Its all about the look folks, and whilst I hadn’t gone so far as to purchase a bottle of grog based only on the colour of its label before, what harm could come to me?

Waking up the next morning...apparently a lot.

To take you back a step, on opening the bottle amongst great excitement and that satisfying swoosh and pop, it turns out it’s a sparkling shiraz. A red wine with fizz is fundamentally wrong on so many levels I’m not even sure where to begin. It was like the lovechild between a bottle of champagne and a bottle of merlot. Not only should those two have ever met, but they certainly shouldn’t have hooked up for a sly one and produced this offspring.

I bravely drank it in the sun, in a large plastic tumbler, with ice (if nothing else I'm classy - It had a head on it like a beer too I might add) Strangely (or perhaps not) no one else wished to partake in any, so it was up to me to finish the bottle. After about the third tumbler I was almost thinking maybe this strange new drink wasn’t that bad, but then after the third tumbler I was also thinking that maybe the kids present at the BBQ weren’t too bad either, and trust me, I don’t usually like kids.

So I drank my red bubbles, and mingled amongst the crowd. (Actually as I was the one and only solo person there....I didn’t so much as mingle with guests as such, it was more like walk up to each group and hang around them, and demand to be heard whether they wanted me there or not. I was intent on not looking a lonely (though well accessorized) girl with just myself and my bottle of strange liquid.

Not being very maternal I wasn’t sure what to do and say with all the kids around either, so I just kept right on drinking and poked the odd baby or child as it came past me. The fat babies are really good for poking I discovered.

Having completed my bottle with the red label, I then decided it was a grand idea to move onto rum. In fact, by then, everything really was quite grand in general. I can’t remember at what stage I ended up on the jumping castle, but that too was rather grand. There was apparently a small incident of an unhappy wife because it was her husband that had pushed me onto the jumping castle then threw himself on to it as well at the same time. (I was oblivious to the arguing wife here, as I was too busy rolling around the said castle and attempting to get myself off it – this task proved to much for my wine affected body, and I ended up needing assistance)

Anyway, sorted that out, more rum. More music, more rum. Told stories, more rum.

Bed time. Right, so of I toddle into the spare room and end up having my friend sort of hoist me onto the top bunk. (As she was pushing me up there from below, I was thankful I had decided to wear decent sized knickers that day)

Cue morning, cue bright sun. Cue me waking up on the top bunk in the kids room with the hangover from hell and a mental note to self to never drink sparkling shiraz again.

It took me hours to get vertical without my head feeling like my brain was still down there on the pillow writhing in agony. I laid there for a long time praying to God for a bacon sandwich to magically appear. My friend must have heard my silent pleas and promptly cooked breakfast. Mine promptly came back up again, along with the red bubbles who just refused to go away and kept threatening to return and say hello.

They so did not go with today’s outfit either.

So I’m signing off for the night, and if nothing else have learnt the importance that it’s not all about the looks after all.

(I’m also off to re-arrange the wine rack so there is no chance that the champagne bottles can run off with red wine bottles ever again)

Billy Goat Gruff

2007-11-16T15:59:00.000-08:00

I’m in a quandry (actually I’m in bed but that’s another story altogether) about what exactly to post tonight.

I had a million things going on in my head, all jostling for attention at the forefront of my mind and demanding to be said, when I was rudely interrupted by a hair on my chinny chin chin.

During the middle of what was a no doubt riveting conversation between my good friend and I (her being the free web tarot card interpreter extraordinaire as discussed in earlier posts) I believe we were somewhere in a ground breaking conversation (or possibly yakking about our star sign) when I discovered somehow overnight I had sprouted a hair on my chinny chinny chin.

Feeling a little like billy goat gruff I promptly interrupted the conversation, took myself off to my bathroom mirror (the reflection not exactly being kind after four champagnes on an empty stomach) and spotted the offending hair. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I make out, but it was really almost at the stage of requiring hair product to tame it.

After the great plucking of 07, where I removed said hair off my chinny chin chin and cussed over the arrival of this new hair follicle, I got to thinking (I also got to drinking.... a wee drop being essential after shock and trauma) about the great hair debacle that accompanies ageing. We women bemoan the sudden onslaught of hairs on our chin, whilst our menfolk contend with hairs disappearing from their head, and in turn sprouting out their nose and ears. What is this phenomenon? (had the laptop not had spell-check I would have really stumbled over that last word. As it is, after partaking of these trauma relieving beverages I can’t actually pronounce the word at all)

Now that I have made the starling discovery of a hair on my chin, I’ve come to the conclusion I am officially of the older generation. I don’t recall ever reading an article in Cosmo or Cleo about how best to remove chin hair, so it’s obviously not an affliction affecting anyone still under the age of 30.

I’m now off to cancel my subscription to both these publications and track down information on the nearest bingo evening where I might mingle with those suffering like minded problems. (such as hair where it shouldn’t be and an in-ability to hold our drink)

Before I leave you though I must throw you todays point of worthless rubbish about me:

I once used to do a sterling impersonation of a speed hump. I have also demonstrated these speedhump capabilities on public roads following the influence of copious amounts of rum. Sadly, due to the ageing process (also responsible for chin hair) I don’t believe I am quite as long and thin as I used to be, and don’t make quite as convincing a speedhump as I did in my youth. It was a real talent at the time though and few could pull it off quite like my good self.

The One about My Brother

2007-11-16T15:48:00.000-08:00

I promised my brother that I would give him a shout out soon, seeing as our sister, nephews and nieces have all scored a mention. So here it is, the post dedicated to.......My Big Brother Ted.

Now I have referred to my big brother as ‘Brother Ted’ for as long as I can remember. Whilst he doesn’t resemble a teddy bear (his limbs are far too long) like say, maybe Paddington Bear, he is a very friendly fellow. (actually I can’t recall if Paddington was friendly, I just had no other bears come to mind except for that rather startled looking one on Play School, and the Play School version bear I’ve never actually heard utter a word– therefore that bear surely does not resemble my sibling) He is also a much snappier dresser than Humphrey too come to think of it, Humphrey being another of your silent types, again, not bearing any resemblance to big brother in that department.

Brother Ted I often think of as a male version of myself, in that we are both tall, good looking and fabulous. We also obviously talk ourself up a lot to hide any insecurities and if in doubt we make a joke. And for the most part, that gets us by. We really are very similar, apart from the obvious fact he is male and that he would rather put hot pokers through his eyes than listen to my choice of music. We both share an amazing ability to drink, (what’s amazing about it is that we have both been honing our drinking skills for years and still can’t hold it very well), an inability to have more than $10 to our name more than 24 hours following pay day, as well as a love of the written word (or a love of our own drunken ramblings and voice)

The big T is going to be super chuffed to find this post I know, because we also love anything that is all about us. (our theory being that as we don’t currently have partners we must therefore make ourself the most important person in our world. Actually...even with partners we find ways to validate this point, as we both feature a remarkable skill in being able to talk our way out of anything)

I have watched Brother Ted entertain us with stories numerous times and been taken aback by the similarity of the expressions we carry on our faces and our hand movements as we try to relive the tale to our listeners (in other words, we wave our arms around a lot as we shout and we look funny) I feel like he has stolen my look, only to remember he is older than me so maybe it was the other way round. Subconsciously growing up I think I watched and somehow absorbed the same mannerisms as he.

We also both resemble windmills when we dance, and are generally the first ones on the floor intent on showing off our moves. (In other words we are quite shameless, and due to long limbs tend to take up the majority of the floor whilst we swing the said limbs around in wild abandon)

We both sing loudly (it all about projection remember) and rather badly, and we both refuse to shut up even when asked, begged or pleaded to by friends to be silent. We think we sound grand and maybe they are tone deaf, and as it’s all about us.....we just keep right on belting out the tunes.

Brother Ted lives in Sydney and leads what appears to be a fast exciting life however, whereas I live on the outskirts and break out into a sweat at the thought of traffic. He also parks a car with much more finesse than I do. (amusingly, at one stage I drove a thumping 5.4 litre V8 ute though and he drove a smart and spanky Golf Polo. This somehow fits us, but probably sounds wrong to the outside world). Brother Ted is also, like me, fanatically neat. I even once discovered his magazines on the coffee table were filed in date order. This still amazes me and I still tell people about it. (amazes me because I didn’t realize till that point there was someone else in the world even tidier than I was)

Apart from the many amusing traits of Brother Ted (including once managing to break his hand and wrist into approximately 856 pieces during a drunken game of backyard cricket) Brother Ted also plays an important role in bucking me up when I’m feeling down and making me look on the bright side of life (even if it means we have to laugh at his expense sometimes in the process) Brother Ted can pull the sun out for me when its raining to remind me what it looks like, and in short, Brother Ted makes a brilliant Pollyanna.

I hope he has enjoyed this ‘blob’ all about him, and I hope tonight this post finds him dancing somewhere with reckless glee, with his arms going everywhere, a drink in one hand and a cigarette in his other (with an innate ability to not spill a drop I might add) singing his head off loudly and badly with a smile as wide as the harbour bridge. For that vision right there folks…is my Brother Ted.

Just Call Me Fabulous

2007-11-13T13:56:00.000-08:00

In another flashbulb moment recently (or again, another wine fuelled brainwave) I decided from now on my nephews and nieces should address my by Aunty Fabulous.

I’m not quite sure yet if this is
a) Due to me being legitimately fabulous…..or
b) Those under ten not actually being capable of distinguishing between sheer fabulousness and sheer insanity (PS I have mentioned prior to this point that fabulousness is a real word and I refuse to hear you argue otherwise).

I shall let you know how I go on my endeavor in due course and report back in on the subject.

I’m pretty sure the younger of the two will be convincingly won over, but my older niece (who no doubt inherited by brains and canny perception) could be harder to coax into. Then again, the younger one also told someone quite seriously his name was “Cowboy” not that long ago, so it shouldn’t be too hard a task at all to get him to henceforth refer to me as the said Aunty Fabulous.

I’m not sure if I have mentioned my nieces and nephews before, but I should mention whilst I’m a proud aunt, I’m also a pretty crap one (any relatives reading will be no doubt nodding knowingly at this point).

It’s in fact only within the last few months I’ve managed to mind them (the kids not the relatives) for an entire weekend (or more to the point, anyone has let me loose with children for more than a few hours at a time). I surprised myself by not only enjoying it, but them surviving the entire 38 or so hours whilst apparently having a good time too. We both got to indulge in our love of pizza and bad movies, so it was really a win win situation. (for the record, I preferred the first Willy Wonka to the second, the kids meanwhile had no idea there was indeed a first and that Willy Wonka had the original naming rights instead of Charlie). My niece also had no idea who Johnny Depp and 21 Jump Street was though, proof that yesterdays heartthrobs are just strange old men to anyone younger than yourself. (I’ll save what I thought of the oompa loomplas this time around for another evening, but I did not like their particular brand of orange)

Now just in case my nephew and nieces sneak a peak at this blog years from now and Auny Fabulous is just some strange old woman who wears bed jackets and lives in a home for special old ladies……….I’m giving them a big shout out and kisses. Mwah Mwah.

PS I forgot in my serious blog below to add to the ‘strange things you should know about me’ point of interest for the day. Today’s is: I actually like blue and green. Together. (Even though according to the poem blue and green should never been seen) I don’t however like red and yellow together, despite my favourite man in all the world, Mr Ronald McDonald, frequently seen sporting them.

By the way, aren’t you the lucky bugger scoring two posts in one day?

The Great Weight Debate

2007-11-13T13:50:00.000-08:00

I’m feeling a little fat tonight. Seeing as I am a good five foot nine and barely hit double digits on my clothing label, I see the irony of this and am disappointed in myself to even have the nerve to sit here and feel this way. Because in my heart I know I am nowhere near fat. Yet I can’t help it, it must just be a bad hair day.

It got me to thinking about how as females we are just never quite happy with our outward appearance. The ‘enough’ monster rules our lives…..we believe we are never quite thin enough, pretty enough, smart enough or good enough. I could point you out all of my girl friends one by one, and you would see that there is something attractive and intriguing about all of them. Some may be perceived by outward appearances as conventionally prettier than others, but not one of them, not even a drunken male in a bar, would dare look at any and say they are unattractive. They in turn have lovely hair, or skin, or smiles or eyes. They all have personalities that make you want to get to know them more. They include tall and short and everything from a size 6 to 22. All have something about them that has attracted the attention of others at various points in their lives. They are in short, lovely.

I don’t know one of them though, that hasn’t looked at themselves on a regular basis and been unhappy with what they see. I don’t think I could pinpoint one female that I know of, who doesn’t view their reflection in the mirror and hear the enough monster in their head. If they are thin they wish they are prettier, if they are pretty they wish their legs were longer. We always seem to think we should look better than we do.

I wonder what makes us think this way? Is it males or females, ourselves or society to blame? The more I ponder it, the more I think it’s our own heads that are never quite satisfied. I can look at my friends some days, and be almost shocked anew by how attractive some of them are. I have seen men turn their heads as they pass, yet I know that earlier in that same evening before venturing out, they have agonized over how they look or wished for some small change in their face or body.

I would not be the only one reading this, to have been told by our loves how beautiful and wonderful we are. I wonder how many of us really believe it? How many of us bypass this comment thinking they are saying only what we want to hear?

I have watched my sister struggle with her weight and diets over the years and yet she has no idea how gorgeous she is. She is tall and womanly with luscious locks and a winning smile. She has a husband who I know adores her and sees in her the woman I think she struggles to see in the mirror. Sometimes I wish I could tell her this, yet even if I did I fear like most of our gender she wouldn’t believe it. She used to bravely joke to people that I got the skinny genes …… and maybe I did just luck out in that department…. but her looks and personality far outshine mine. Yet for all those brains and beauty, the enough monster seems to lurk in her head too.

I don’t think I can continue to blame men for this enough business either. The more I observe, the more I recognize that men are far less self conscious of their own bodies, and less noticing of our than we give them credit for. In fact, none of them I know hold any fear in stripping off at the beach or walking naked to the bathroom, no matter what their weight or looks. Whilst we sit covered in a towel and worry about the couple of extra kilos we are wearing on our hips. They don’t seem to notice the extra padding or the blemishes on our skin as much as we as we notice them ourself. We meanwhile, are so busy fretting about these small things we probably stop ourselves from having fun. I’m guilty in the past, of knocking back a game of volleyball on the beach for fear of how I would look bouncing around in a bikini, thinking to myself I didn’t want to stand out at the same time by playing and wearing a cover up. What a waste of a sunny day on the beach, because I chose to hide myself in the water or under a shirt.

So I’m quite sad I’m feeling fat and unattractive tonight, because I know full well its all in my own head.

I hope one day I manage to rid myself of this enough monster I carry around, and I hope anyone reading can rid themselves of theirs too.

Until then, just keep knowing I think you are all fabulous okay? J

All Shook Up

2007-11-12T19:42:00.000-08:00

Yeah I know I know. I promised you a witty amusing post and I'm letting the team down here. The All Shook Up blog entry is a coming........I promise (so is Christmas, but it may be here sooner than the post entry the way we are going)

Just joshing folks...........but please allow me today to be more than a little grumpy and tired. Im a week or two into a severe bout of insomnia (feel free to post / comment / email me all remedies) and can't seem to think straight. (can't even think crooked come to think about it..........which I shouldn't be, as Im incapable of it right now. The thinking part I mean)

See? I'm making no sense I am?

I think the three sleeping tablets it took last night for me to even toss fitfully for a few fretful hours, and the three I've been taking every night for the last few evenings, choose only to kick in when I'm trying (or pretending) to work.

Please note before abusing my apparent (prescribed) drug abuse, I have tried everything under the sun (and possibly the moon too) for my insomnia to no avail. (PS Im not actually sure what no avail means but its sounds like it fits) So just some foolproof remedies sent through please (I beg you)

Once again, after the You Shook Me All Night Long post (scroll down .....I can't post links remember. Never said I was good at technologly and I'm continually surprised I've managed to even cobble this blogsite together ) anyway, I forgot the random bit of info that you good folk sleep better knowing (dam shame it doesn' work the other way around)

So for your viewing pleasure, todays random tit bit is as follows(who made up that phrase??? A bit of a tit? What is that? I'm certain a man did not pen this phrase, cause a bit of a tit would never be enough for them) With no further adue/adoo/ agdadoo doo doo (again, don't know how to spell that or am even sure of its meaning but I'm struggling today so let me say what I want) Anyway............here it is!!!

1. I love singing Calamity Jane songs. This will come as no surprise to those that (a) know me, and (b) have seen me drunk (please note (c) I've also just realised everyone who DOES know me HAS seen me drunk. This fact amuses me when it probably shouldn't).
Should you ever wish to hear / see my rendition of 'Whip -Crack Away' or 'Once I had a Secret Love', feel free to ask. The following performance may vary in fabulousness (thats a word, don't argue with me) depending how much wine I have consumed, but I assure you I will give it my all. It's all about projection folks.........and trust me, if nothing else I'm bloody loud.

PPS I can also quote a lot of the movie when I'm drunk, (actually even when I'm sober if asked nicely) and if you ever come across me at the pub and I'm slamming my hand down on the bar saying "make mine a sasparilla!" don't be alarmed. Just buy me a drink and nobody gets hurt.

And now.............I'm off to sleep.

See you.......say, Thursday.

You Shook Me All Night Long

2007-11-11T14:28:00.000-08:00

I'm quite excited about todays post..........which you have to be patient for till I actually write it. Whilst I wouldn't exactly hold your breath for it, as its a good few hours away due to work / extreme tiredness / lack of wine in the house etc, I assure you it will be hitting the headlines soon.

Even more exciting it's about how on Friday night at the local RSL (not my local, but it was someones local and I just can't say RSL without saying local in front of it... in fact took me all my restraint to not call it the local rissole.........just wasn't sure if any non aussie readers would understand what a local rissole actually was)

Anyway, I somehow managed to attract the attention (sitting quitely with a bottle of red will do that obviously) of a not so sprightly (and not so sober) gent who came to sit next me, attempted to have a small convo and then asked me to dance. I politely (ish) declined and he went on his (very merry) way (actually he moved straight over to another women, thus cementing the believe I have that men never change nor actually grow up)............okay this was all pretty standard local rissole stuff till the next bit happened............

His 'little lady' (her terms not mine, I would only use this terminology if I was in, say, a John Wayne movie) came over to abuse me for trying to steal her man AND ACTUALLY SHOOK ME! (messed my hair and all) She also called me a slut too, which had she not been a sixty odd year old five foot nothing grey haired drunk I may have taken offence to.

So stay tuned for You Shook Me All Night Long (the real post) where I will also tell you about my tarot card reading yesterday. I remember not a lot (wow aren't those things vague!) other than something about (I think) a nine inch rod card and a card called a something of testicles. Either way, I think it sounded a very promising reading and that maybe my luck was about to change in that department.

As Only I Can (or Todays Looser Status No.2)

2007-11-08T13:42:00.000-08:00

An amusing thing happened to me today (well even more amusing than being alarmed at the sight of my own self in the mirror wearing nothing but a kooky look and a shower cap a couple of days ago) Today I managed to be both rejected for one lowly job and promoted in another (not lowly job), all within the space of an hour.

If you recall from my earlier post (‘Todays Looser Status’ - scroll down here please, stuffed if I know how to link it like the real bloggers do) you’ll recall that just a few short days ago I was bemoaning my current financial woes and wishing someone would whisk me of to a northern QLD island (actually that last part isn’t true at all, I just wanted to throw that in, in case someone takes pity and wants to shout me a tropical holiday) Anyway, there I was stuck between a rock and a hard place (and let me tell you, its been a while since I’ve been near anything hard – boom boom) with neither phone nor car to my name (well I had both, but both were as useless to me as an ashtray on a bike at the time. For the record, I really hate that saying but anything else is eluding my right now) Being the proactive chick I am (or just really broke and desperate) I decided to shake off my pride and get a second income.

I would become………………a shelf packer. Going by the exciting title of night fill and dawn fill – (which I might add again, I’ve been neither for a while – boom boom) I completed my online application and waited for the call to tell me when to start.

To my great surprise and delight (or perhaps not... I know I write a killer resume and on paper could probably run for Prime Minister) I then heard back that I was to complete my application by simply executing (being the operative word) an online test. Rubbing hands together with glee thinking extra cash was soon to be mine, I followed the links (easy so far) and set to work.

In alarm I realised after about the forth question (on my permanent jobs time by the way, lets pray my employer never reads this blog) I still had the grand total of 876 questions left. Throwing caution to the wind (or fearful of my boss walking in) I quickly answered and moved on to the next section of the exam. The next section involved maths……….

Long story short, maths is not me. I am not maths.

Now I don’t consider myself an idiot, I’m articulate (ish), well spoken (unless I’ve been drinking which happens a little too frequently for everyone’s liking) and hold a responsible job in a well respected company (possibly not well respected for much longer now I work there). Though I don’t currently, I have previously had staff under me (actually maybe I should say I have ‘managed’ staff instead, if they had been under me they might have got that pay rise they were after - boom boom) In other words, I thought I was well qualified enough to do the odd morning shift placing dog food neatly on the shelf in rows. Needless to say, with 876 questions left involving maths and finding some bastard had nicked the calculator off my desk (again) and being incapable of doing any calculations in my own head……….I guessed all the answers.

Guessing ‘0’ for every question proved incorrect obviously. How was I too know they really used these aptitude tests?!?!

Imagine my surprise to open my email this morning to discover I was amongst the bottom 9% to ever sit the exam. Politely outlined in the email was the explanation I was unsuitable for the position I had applied for and that I was not to apply for a further twelve months. I think the exact words were “you suck dumbass, don’t ever contact us again”.

Picking up my wounded pride (and glancing furtively around the office to ensure no one had read the dismal email over my shoulder) I logged out of the personal email account and got back to work. (actually I emailed co-workers on the work email of my sad plight that I had been rejected as a shelf packer – but I did so with a fair amount of bustle and flurry, and looked convincingly busy).

Forty minutes later (or thereabouts, numbers not being my strong point) I was called into a meeting to be told of exciting developments involving pay rises, mobile phones and car allowances, all with my name on them. Allow me to swear here……….this is no shit.

Life just sometimes throws you a curve ball doesn’t it, and you manage to catch the bloody thing.

Long story short again (get it? That’s a joke – nothing I say is ever short) I recovered from the shock – left the boardroom and spent the evening chuckling over the fact Coles had rejected me and my work had promoted me all on the same day.

I’m not really sure what the significance here is, though a co-worker who I believe was under the influence of vodka when she text me this gem – pointed out that selected and rejected are apparently the same in the phone dictionary.

I tell you, we employ some brilliant minds here don’t we?!

And on that note…………I’m off for the evening. I realized I forgot to give you the random things about LW trivia / fantail moment (for those that remember fantails) yesterday, I think I was too caught up in my post about life, love and other disasters. (I may also have partaken of wine and spent the evening going through pictures of past loves if you didn’t guess) So just for you……..two completely useless random things about me

1. I have never eaten the worm in the bottom of a tequila bottle. (I am yet to find a bottle with the worm in there actually, or maybe I’m just too drunk by the end to notice)

2. I once voted for the bundy bear in a state election (yes, I did live to regret it and I ensure every vote now counts to make up for my botched views on politics when I was young)

Worth waiting for wasn’t it? And for the record my car is now back on the road and my phone has been re-connected – try not to ring me all at once.

PS: Big shout out and kisses *mwah mwah* to the mentioned ‘brilliant minded’ co-worker who assists daily in keeping me sane in the mad house that we work in. Raising my glass to you chickie. Cheers!

The Girl Of His Dreams

2007-11-07T17:48:00.000-08:00

I’ve been thinking tonight about what a fickle thing Love can be. For once I’m not being cynical either. I know love is grand, I know it makes the world go round, I know it has the almighty power to both start and end wars. But at the end of the day, what a fickle thing Love can be.

It hit me tonight quite unexpectedly as I was sifting through the memories I keep safely tucked away in my mind, that I was once the girl of someones dreams. Someone once took weeks to get the courage to nervously ask me out, someone once dreamed of me with the same butterflies in his tummy that I had in mine. He would have smiled at the thought of me, and dropped my name into conversation, just so he could hear my name on his tongue and paired with his. Someone once wrote ‘I Love you’ in the sand for me, etched it in a tree like teenagers, kissed me in the ocean, baked me a cake, bought me flowers, stroked my head when I was sick, cried with me, laughed with me, made Love with me.

As an adult (or the adult I try so hard to be), I realize that sometimes no matter how hard you want something, it doesn’t mean you get to experience the joy of actually getting it. Life’s not always fair, and please don’t take till you are well into your twenties to learn that like I did. Live each moment, enjoy each second………but don’t count on the one person to be there forever, except for yourself. Learnt to love and rely on your self first. Be the person of your own dreams.

I’ve learnt over the years that relationships can come and go, and your thoughts, feelings and the very essence of who you are can change right along with each one. You learn from each other, you stay a little while or you might stay for a long while. You hopefully take the good parts of each other and share them back and forth, making you each better people because of it.

The longer it goes the further you entwine, getting woven into the fabric of each others lives. Amazing then, how one loose thread unravels you all. In what seems like just a heartbeat you go from being the girl of his dreams, to just a girl he used to know.

And that’s what hit me tonight, as I traded polite email from someone who once had me so far on a pedestal that I must have got giddy from the height. Looking back I was bound to fall eventually. This man had once idolised me, and had once thought I was one of the greatest things to ever happen to him, who told me I opened up his way of thinking and made things seems new and exciting. He used to laugh at the way the most mundane things in our lives became funny with my storytelling, he would touch me on the back when we were standing in a line, just to remind me he was there, and to feel that spark again as our skin touched. Yes, I was once the girl of his every dream and fantasy……. and now? Now I’m not. Now I’m a mere number amongst the contact list on his mobile phone.

Maybe it’s just me cause I’m finding that all too hard to fathom out this evening.

It’s not the break up I regret. People change all the time, I changed. Looking back I changed far more than him. I may have been changing for the better, but I was no longer the girl he fell in love with, and that’s where the thread became loose, and our tapestry of life start unraveling till we couldn’t recognize what we had even made, nor even a recognize the pattern for us to start again.

That’s the thing about love you see, its human nature to change and if we don’t allow our partners to do the same, if we insist that they be the exact person we fell in love with ……..then nothing can grow. We stagnate. We stop being amazed, stop being the best things that can ever happen to anyone. Stop being the girls of their dreams..

For once in my life I see the excitement before me, the roads I have yet to travel, the songs still to be sung, beaches I’ve yet to sit on a dawn, lovers I’ve yet to meet. So much ahead of me. I no longer miss him, or ache for him in anyway. I just feel a sadness, a sorrow that love can make fools of even the wisest. That we can declare someone the love of our lives, when we haven’t even lived our full lives. That we can be someones everything for a while, and when that ‘while’ is over …you are a nothing. A number in a phone perhaps , a forwarding address on the email list. A face in the crowd you might wave hello too then guiltily look away.

I can only trust my judgment that I haven’t gotten it wrong so far, and I was right to hold out. Hold out for the good stuff.

I used to think I would know what he would be like and look like when he came along, this mystery man of mine. I couldn’t tell you any of it now. I have loved and laughed with the tall and short, the underweight and overweight, blonde hair and darkhair, suits and truckdrivers, all different but who have caught my eye and my attention in some way. I thought I had a type, but it turns out I don’t have one after all. I guess when he comes along......the right one, he will just be the right type for me.

I have had my heart broken along this rocky path of love already, and I fear I have broken someone elses too as I passed them by.

Love is indeed a fickle thing.

I wish you all the love in the world tonight, just take it and treat it kindly..

Shower Wisdom

2007-11-05T15:42:00.000-08:00

Tonight I had a very big fright.

I caught site of myself – naked and post shower – in the mirror, and the reason for my single status instantly became startling obvious. No, its not what you think, all my bouncy bits were still (more or less) where they were meant to be, and I hadn’t grown any (additional) non bouncy bits in the last week since I’d stood on the scales. My frightening appearance was due to the fact that I was wearing not only an unattractive nana- blue pastic shower cap, but it came complete with an ipod clipped to the side, with short jaunty ear pod lead lengths sticking out at near right angles to my head. I had craftily tucked the main section of the leads into either side. Ingenious thinking on my behalf I'd thought, until I looked in the mirror.

Now if you remember the previous post, Im guilty of going to bed making sure I look acceptable should that man of my dreams happen to stumble upon me at 3am looking for his goddess. (to any ex boyfriends reading who do still happen to stumble upon my doorstep at 3am, thanks to my close proximity and walking distance to the pub, I dont actually refer to any of you here). To my surprise, upon looking in the mirror, I discovered that my standards must really be slipping.

For a start, Im pretty sure its not standard procedure to shower with your Ipod on. I never said I wasn’t obsessive though, and since I got my Ipod shuffle I admit it rarely leaves my head. Following the great Ipod theft of 07 (bastards.... I just hope they liked country music is all I can say as they took off with a 30gb filled with some five thousand songs, of which approx 4824 were country) I had been sans ipod for some time this year as a result. To say I was distraught was understatement. I began to wonder how I functioned without playlists, and dreamt longingly of the day when I got replace the said Pod. (useless trivia here, my Ipod even had a name - Rod the Pod the Third for anyone wondering, which I doubt)

Anyway, long story short I had been pod- less (a word I just coined, but bound to be in your nearest dictionary soon, or available on wilkpedia) for some time, and decided on a whim to throw a hundred towards one of the ducky little shuffle fella’s, to keep me going (yet even further) insane whilst I was waiting to replace Rod The Big Daddy Pod.

I brought the shuffle fella without a very high expectations at all, expecting little, and have promptly fallen in love with him. (This thought alone prompts me to think I should possibly start choosing my men with the same lack of expectation to see if I get pleasantly surprised again) Anyway, despite the fact he can't give me songlists, tell me what song he is playing or is which song he is going to come up with next………..I love him. (Again, this prompts to think that true love really does overlook imperfections - short mental note to self when about to ditch soon to be ex boyfriends in the future)

So here I am, a women in love with her baby pod. I have learned his ducky little size means I can clip him onto pjs or cossies, or go running and not even notice him or need a bulky armband to attach him too (which lets face it, only the serious looking people tend to go for this look, and if they see me and my skinny white legs running along with Itune attached to my arm and my $20 Kmart sneakers they may laugh) But baby pod, he just clips onto your collar, or under your shirt. So discreet!!!!!!!!! (again, mental note – choose discreet men in future) Not for he the jumping flashing hoolah of IM A POD, IM A BIG DADDY POD....... he just quietly sits where you tuck him and plays you your tunes.

His other feature recently discovered is that he turns himself off when I haven’t played with him for a while. Im soo, sooo refraining here from wishing my men did this too. Oh what the heck, I wish my men did this function too! Baby Pod must merely come to the conclusion you haven’t touched his buttons for quite some time and he might just have a nap instead, no fuss, no checking just to make sure you don’t want to play, cause they think you really might want to if you think about it harder…………... Men, take note. The baby pod has it all over you boys.

So anyway, with all baby pods features, which from here on in will be known as the 'BP', I have extended the uses of BP to include going assisting me drift off to sleep (ear pods in on a selection of cruisy tunes…………BP correctly guessing when I've nodded off and switching himself to standby mode, walking, working, hanging out the washing and tonight for the first time taking the BP to the shower. (lucky boy isn't he)

The Secret though is all in a good showercap, so you can clip your poddy onto it without wrecking the fragile plastic (I say fragile, as my shower caps generally come from Tokyo via Clints Crazy Bargains for $2 a packet of six. What Im saying is……….they rip easily so go steady, treat them like your ansells and no one will get hurt)

But by craftily clipping my BP on, arranging the cords so just a bit sticks out and the rest is safely under your widely attractive shower cap, adjust your showerhead down so you get your body wet but not your head………..and there you go, the invention of the naughties............the Shower Pod Baby.

I was having myself a fine time in there this evening, admired my smooth bits, bouncing my wobbly bits to some boppy beats, singing loudly and off key as per usual, a veritable party in my own bathroom.

I stepped out the shower full of my own wonder at my ingenuity to put cap to pod together. I was beginning to wonder how I could market this thing and what I'd wear on that ABC show were all the great inventors get interviewed. I was ready for the big league.

Then the mirror went and bluddy stuffed it up.

You know, when you close your eyes? You are feeling the moment in your head, dancing (even in the shower) with your body and thinking how mighty fine the world is and how oh so clever you are………..doesn’t it hit you like a thud when you glance into the mirror and see what can only be described as a tall, thin slightly kooky looking person with a stained blue plastic shower cap on and wires sticking out her head, looking not nearly as impressive as my mind envisioned me. (My mascara had run also and that wasn’t helping the effect)

It hit me then............that’s why Im single.

I was looking at that reflection thinking to myself “that girl ought to pull herself together before she scares small children”. Then I remembered it was actually me I was looking at, so went to test the small children theory out on the poodle instead. She once again sat up on her satin cushion and stared at me, her eyes saying adoringly “you’re so wonderfull” and apparently failed to even notice plastic cap on head. Okay scrap the poodle, what would she know, she buried a piece of chicken amongst the mound of satin and embroidered pillows on the bed just a few days ago, instead of in the garden like a normal dog. Clearly she isn’t the sanest mind in the house. (technically, that now leaves me as the sanest mind………..a freak in a showercap who dances whilst bathing)

Anyway, at the end of the day, having seen what I look like in a showercap with an ipod attached I came to realize that’s why I was single.

I had let my standards slip to that of even lower than Bridget Jones. Next I’ll be wearing tummy tucking pants and chasing men in embroidered jumpers. (actually better not, the poodle will try bury her chicken in him too no doubt)

So girls, my advice to you, always wear nice pyjamas to bed, moisturize your body at least twice a day, drink plenty of fluids (wine is classified as a fluid here, It goes straight through me so surely this is part of a cleansing progress) and above all else………….dont let anyone catch you in a shower cap that has devices of any sort attached to it. Its just not a good look. For anyone thinking I could look good in anything……….oh I so just proved you dead wrong.

Oh wait, before I go, todays random bits of useless information. ………….drumroll please…………..(and please start sending in usueless questions so I can answer them here) the startling revelation that I've never eaten a big mac. Never. Had a bite once but I cant stand the sauce, the lettuce is too watery and its altogether too much bread. For me, I’ll stick with the quarter pounder. (was briefly going to admit to a real likeness for the Fillet Of Fish here, but have been told by various friends that only the extremely daggy of the population order these. But you know, Ive just admitted to wearing a showercap and ipod together. Who cares if you all know it now………I LIKE FILLET O FISH BURGERS.

Right, goodnight, sleep tight and see you on say Wednesday maybe.

Todays Looser Status

2007-11-04T23:13:00.000-08:00

I was determined to write a happy post today. No truly. A lighthearted, frivolous piece of froth about life, love and other disasters. I started the day in a lighthearted, frivolous mood you see.

Just a few short hours into the day however, I discovered my mobile had been disconnected.

This left me with the startling realization I was both carless (car was out of rego) and had no means of getting around, to having no means of communication either (as my small pitiful stand against phone companies, I don’t actually have a home phone line). Honestly I can’t help but think I may as well be on Gilligans Island at the moment, cause at least Skipper and the crew had company. So I sit here alone again with a laptop, and am even sans poodle this time as she too has deemed me to useless to associate with at the moment. Can’t say I blame her, Id probably leave myself right now also if I had the opportunity (if I had a car that could legally be driven anyway).

Even more shocking is the realization that I’m a 33 year old, fully employed member of society and yet I still can’t pay my bills. This can only equate to looser status right??? Sure, there are a million reasons why I am late paying things this month and how I ended up in such a predicament, but long story short is I’m currently broke. And can’t even ring anyone to winge about it!

Yep sucks to be you stuck here reading this my friend. Just bear in mind had my phone been working or had I had net access at home, I’d have been stopping you watching Australian Idol (or Australian Story, depending on which of my handful of faithful fans are reading) by complaining of my woes to you in real time.

On a brighter note (cause we really have to find one before I cry – and I’m never at my most attractive then ) (wait…….. more bracketed thoughts coming up – is it weird the way I try to still look acceptable even when I’m in bed alone? Does anyone else re-apply lip balm, and make sure their pj’s match and your bed clothes are arranged prettily with cushions piled invitingly….just on the off chance that should someone appear lost or broken down at the door at 3am unannounced, and he just happens to be the man of your dreams…….. you look okay? Or is just a quirky trait of mine?) Anyway, after all that questioning of my own antics I cant even recall what the brighter note was I was getting at sorry.

I'm feeling quit the rebellious now though as a result, so maybe tonight though I’ll throw caution to the wind and – gasp – leave my book on the floor next to me instead of with page neatly marked and put back in its place – angled just right on the bedside box, so it looks like those interior magazines shots that have you privately thinking ‘no one could actually live that neatly and perfectly’. (except odd 33 year olds with a bad habit of having their phone disconnected and a perfectly good car sitting in the carport that they can’t afford to register)

And on that note I might leave you. Let your last thought of me be sitting up in bed, typing furiously on a laptop in my perfectly arranged room, in search of happiness somewhere amongst the keys. (Actually I just spied a drawer that hasn’t been quite closed and dam it, I’m going to leave that dam thing like that till morning if it kills me)

On wait, I did forget one thing, in my infinite wisdom (or possibly a drunken moment) I decided I would leave you daily with a random bit of information about yours truly, to help you understand the strange but intriguing mind I posses.

Todays juicy morsal of news is the revelation that I only ever buy white toilet paper. Unclear why, (something to do with my quest for perfection and anything but white not blending in with the decor of my bathroom I'd hazard a guess at) but that’s todays ‘things about me you probably didn’t know yet’ subtitled ‘but will now sleep better knowing'.

Now if you don’t mind, I’m off to close that drawer………………….

Winge for the Day

2007-10-23T23:41:00.000-07:00

I'd like to have a winge today about Delta. You know "the new look Delta". Maybe it's just me but am I the only one not actually seeing the 'new sexy look'.
Long hair she swishes a lot........check
perky smile.......chec
sensible clothing.........check

Apart from a new fetish for wearing black nail polish, I just don't see this 'sexed up Delta' everyone is talking about. In sufference, I made myself watch the video recently to be sure I wasn't missing out. I believe I saw a flash of bare shoulder, and a little shimmy of said shoulder at one stage, but this was as raunchy as she got.

Pretty, very,. Won't argue you that one. Even go so far to say I wouldn't complain if I woke up one day magically looking like her..........but she is about as sexy as the CWA ladies in their aprons. (For the record, I think the CWA is a fanstastic insitution, and I visit the stand for the scones every year at the Easter Show ........I'm just not sure if in your sensible baking gear anyone conveys raunch and sexiness and the CWA ladies were the first thing to pop into my mind as I typed. Unless of course your other half is lucky enough to come home to find you with nothing but the oven on..........naked baking, even with an apron, is an entirely different situation and falls well within a sexy look. Men love naked and men love food. Its a sure fire winning combination)

From what I can gather, the only change in Deltas new sexed up look is................................again I'm coming up with nothing here but the black nailpolish. As she now in her twenties I personally find her a bit old for that too by the way. Maybe someone that pretty just cant get sexy. Maybe she is destined to look, act, speak and sing prettily but blandly for the rest of her career.

They can call it the new sexy raunchy Delta all they want, I'm just not buying it.

(Or maybe I'm just a jealous cow)

The Girl in The Mirror

2007-10-22T19:38:00.000-07:00

I’m bored. Or maybe bored is the wrong way to describe it, because I know there are things I could to alleviate it. Maybe I’m just tired, tired of myself. Of my inability to join the world at times.

Tired of being the flake. Tired of being the clown in public, and the crying girl in private. Tired of evenings alone because I know I can’t go out on nights like this and be the funny one right now. Sometimes I think of my personality of almost being like a pool of water around me. Some days it’s like the ocean, fun for some who brave the waves, enjoy the tides and openness, the sheer aliveness of it around them. Other times it’s like a lake, cool and calm. Inviting people in to bask in its slow lapping water, to splash along its edges, enjoy what it has to offer.

But most of the time I feel like its just still, still water. And the slightest thing can make it ripple around me.

Tonight I’m rippling, like someone has thrown stones into my stillness and disturbed me. Like watching your reflection in the water be blown away by the intrusion, and loosing sight of what you are viewing. Others probably see all the different variations of water around me, but in my head for me it’s always the still one. It’s the one that’s the true reflection of how I perceive myself, and how I feel I am. Still and dark. Murky and intriguing to only myself.

I hate the ripples. Hate when I feel the stones land and know its upset that calm deep and disturbs the monster lurking underneath. Sometimes I don’t even know who threw the stones. Maybe it was me?

Who can I blame when I can’t see where they are coming from, how long they’ll continue, how deep they will pierce through. Sometimes I know I’m doing it myself, and maybe I was trying to skip a stone along my water in fun, but I got the angle wrong and shattered its stillness instead.

So tonight I sit here with my water disturbed all around me. Like my aura is quivering around me, making that pool of thought and emotion ripple over and over again, causing shockwaves right to the very bottom.

I try to calm it, to breathe deeply in a pattern to lessen the ripple effect, but it’s hard. Amazingly hard work to do nothing but breathe. It takes all my concentration to stop myself throwing more stones in, I can feel my mind dredging up thoughts, and throwing them back at me and causing yet more disturbance. Like a rain of pebbles coming down on me, ripping through the shelter I’m trying to build at the same time. One hand frantically putting up a roof to stop it, the other hand throwing stones.

Amazing how I can even argue with myself like that isn’t it.

Boredom is my enemy tonight. Knowing I can’t go out because of my mood, yet nothing to do at home but write these random thoughts into a computer. I have a bottle of port to keep me company, and a grey poodle curled up beside me.

I thank God for the poodle. Actually I thank God for all animals. He knew what he was doing when he made them. Animals always help me, some more than others, but any animal is bound to calm the ripples more than any person could.

Not sure what it is about them, just their persona around me. Their lack of questions maybe? I feel like they can come into my water anytime. If they are a dog they jump amongst the waves, joyously chasing them back to the shore. If they are a cat they bat the sea foam with their paws, or dip them in trying to swat at imaginary fish only they can see underneath, enjoy feeling the sun on their back as they watch their own reflection. If they are a horse they gallop along in the shallows, making me feel alive and giving me a feeling of power and strength, like its all their inside me ready to surge forward the moment I need it.

I welcome the disturbance of my water from animals. Animal ripples in my water caress, tickle and sooth me. Lapping along my thoughts, and sweeping the debris away and leaving me clear.

So tonight I welcome the poodle into my head. Welcome her quite presence here beside me as I type. I’m not sure if she knows my water is disturbed. I know some animals that can pick up on it. Sense the quiver of it around me maybe.

As I sit here I can see my own reflection in the mirror staring back at me. Thinking as it watches me type. I sometimes want to ask that girl if I can trade places with her. She looks so much more capable than I feel. I can’t always tell what she is thinking about me, but I know I disappoint her. I feel like I’ve let her down. Not lived up to her expectations of me. I don’t care so much about not being what other people think I should be, as much as I care about what she thinks.

I remember reading something once, or maybe I just had a thought somewhere over the years…. who knows, but I recall something in me saying that your outside is just what the inside gets around in.

So I’m looking at myself…. at that capable appearing girl looking back at me. I see my outsides, and I see that to the rest of the world they appear just fine. Despite my quest for a thinner frame I’m not really overweight, I have hair people are envious of and dimples when I smile. There are no glaring faults to be found, no deformities to be ashamed of. No wonder that girl is disappointed in me. Surely with her outsides, she shouldn’t feel the slight ripples that she does.

Sometimes though I think even she sees that maybe it’s the outsides that are cause for concern because of this very thing. She is tall, slim, attractive even. The girl in the mirror is the one who is the life of the party, the one people crowd around to listen to her tales. She is considered the funny one, the wild one, the glamorous one. Why then is she alone again tonight?

She sees me looking at her as I stare back at myself. We question each other her and I. We can agree on this one thing. That somewhere maybe we went wrong. We were blessed with so much yet let it go unappreciated, have no one to reinforce what we have.

I have disappointed her. I have disappointed myself.

For any of those wondering..

2007-10-16T00:42:00.000-07:00

The title of this blog comes from the following song. Not sure if Im keen on the film clip, but there are a few lyrics in this song that always seem to stay with me and pop into my head at the oddest of moments.

Gary Allan - Life Ain't Always Beautiful

The Truth

2007-10-15T22:38:00.000-07:00

I don’t even know how to start to explain what I feel like. How do you explain that everything you appear to be is a lie? That you hate yourself so much, and feel so out of control of your life that you think at times how much easier it would be to go to asleep and not wake up. If you look at the earth, there are layers and layers before you get down to the core. I think Im buried underneath all the layers, so far down no one will every find me. So far down that I cant dig myself out anymore, so far down no one can hear you, and so far down even if you want to yell out you can’t, cause the earth closing in around you has muffled your voice..

I’ve tried a lot to tell people, but how do you start, where to begin? And whats the point? Everyone says something along the lines of “what do I have to be sad about?”. I’ve been told that my problems are small, because elsewhere people have it so much worse. I know that, but it doesn’t make my problem any easier to bear. It’s like telling someone that’s got a child born with a disability that its not so bad, because elsewhere children are being blown apart by war.

Like telling someone who’s going through a marriage break up, that it isn’t so bad because elsewhere someones husband is dying. You can’t weigh up one tragedy against another, what someone is going through is their own personal pain, you cant tell them they cant be sad because they were lucky enough to not be going through a war, or a terminal illness or whatever dilemna they are lining you up against to show you they think you should be holding up better.

Sometimes I think of humpty dumpty. He probably didn’t fall off the wall at all, I think so many people probably told him he was okay as an egg he just got the shits and jumped. That’s how I feel. And all those kings horses and all the kings men, no wonder they couldn’t put him back together, once you shatter this bad, no matter what glue they use trying to piece you, we all know that you are never going to be as strong. You are only ever going to be as solid as the fragile bits.

So this egg keeps waking up every day, and going through the motions. No friends would guess at how low I am, I doubt any family would guess the extent. That even when I appear happy, underneath I’m frantically clawing at all the dirt around me, and as it keeps sliding back in I loose the energy to fight against it harder. How do you just walk up and say “by the way, I’m so sad that no matter what you give me, what you say, what you do….I don’t think its gunna work this time”. No one wants to hear that, and no one would believe it. And I can’t do that to anyone, the guilt at thinking about it makes me even lower. I want to be thankful, and part of me is, but the other part, which is the bigger part, keeps waking up in the middle of the night thinking ‘how did I get here and how do I get out?” How did I get buried under this rubble. How come when dirt used to land on me, I was once able to fling it back? I don’t even know what changed that I cant anymore. Something took away my shovel, and without it I’m hopeless.

I sometimes wish I was brave enough to tell everyone that I haven’t been able to pinpoint a day for months on end when I’ve been happy. When I haven’t hated myself, when I haven’t been sad, or woken up crying, or gone to bed crying, or just driven along thinking how I just want to keep going and not come back anymore. I wonder if anyone even knows that I store the lifeline number in my phone, and twice now I’ve been crying and holding the phone in my hand, thinking…if I ring now, will someone understand?

Its tiring living like this. Tiring keeping up a front of faking another smile, and facing another day appearing to be one of the normal people of the world. For the first time ever I understand what people mean when they say depression is like a black cloud over you.

You want to see the sun, but your eyes have forgotten what it looks like. You pretend to everyone you can see it though, because its easier than them thinking you should be leading the freak parade through town.

You tell yourself you are fabulous, you are unstoppable, you are loved and worthy and all the things people are meant to believe in themselves. You tell yourself you are feeling much better, and you tell others the same, but only because its easier than seeming like an ungrateful spoilt child. You wish someone could reach you in your underground world, but you cant even remember how to raise your arm or voice for help. You’re frightened if they do help and its still doesn’t work…….. then what? What if this is it for you?

I don’t know what made me this way, was it anything in particular? Who knows, maybe, maybe not. I couldn’t pinpoint a single event to blame. Maybe it was everything, maybe it was nothing and I’m just another spoilt drama queen. I cant figure it out anymore, and I’m tired of trying. I tried pulling myself up by myself, I tried talking a couple of times, I’m at the point where I don’t know what to do, where to turn, how to get up, or if I even want to get up.

Once again I have a headache. Lack of sleep, too many painkillers, too much sad and not enough happy. To much pretending and not enough living. I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t even know why I’m writing this, but if I don’t write tonight it will only keep going around and around in my head anyway. Maybe tonight I’ll get some sleep.

Like humpty dumpty though, I think I’m in danger of falling off the wall. Funny how that nursery rhyme used to never make sense, I used to wonder why an egg would even be sitting on a wall in the first place, used to think the writer was another mind lost to drugs. I don’t think he was now, I think he was probably just another sad person, and he and I are both sitting on the same wall wondering what to do.