Oh, my dramatic life

OH NO friends a terrible thing has happened! There is no regular coffee! Only decaf. Go to the supermarket? If only it were so simple! I can't go to the supermarket, it is raining. Tried to talk my mother into going to supermarket but she said, "Why don't you just drink it without the caf?" "I need the caf!" I cried. "The caf gives me Zing!" She thought I already had sufficient Zing, peculiar woman. So I have made a plunger of De Caf and am pretending that it is Actual Caf in the hopes that this will have some kind of mild, zingy placebo effect. Will let you know.

48hours starts tonight at 7pm! I am excited. In fact the overall mood of this post is one of slight hyperactivity. I was slightly over-excited all day yesterday - Kate summed it up quite nicely by saying, "Going to the mall with you is like going to the mall with a small child. Funny, but sometimes embarrassing. I have to keep an eye on you." Reminded Kate that I can be Very Professional and Grown Up when the occasion demands it, but she was heavily skeptical.

I don't really have anything to blog about because I left my notebook of mad ideas at Andrea's by accident last night. Andrea, my thoughts are with you!

The last thing I wrote in my other notebook appears to be "Buzzy-bye for now!" which is a cheery farewell from the Buzzy Bee kids' TV show. Above that is written "WANTED SOIL." I do not remember why but I'm sure it was funny at the time.

Anyway, I am going to toddle over to Andrea's because I keep using !'s in inappropriate places.

Blog back on Monday, but in the meantime you may ponder this old saying:

Love in many, trust in few, but always paddle your own canoe.*

Buzzy-bye for now!


(I wonder if the adult film industry has made a movie called "XXXMen" yet? I am too scared to Google this Yes, they totally have. The tagline is 'Sexy Mutants are Coming.')


*canoe is probably metaphorical?

This is quite dull

I really have no news except that Google, which displays ads specifically geared towards my viewing preferences, thinks I might like a recipe for 'Spam Vegetable Strudel.' Seriously, Google, I don't even kn- oh, it's served with soy sauce? Well OK then.

So I'm going to take the traditional route when faced with a dearth of blog material: respond to a questionnaire I was tagged in ages ago. Or, in this case, respond to a questionnaire that I wasn't even tagged in in the first place. (I know, it's going to be boring. I received a request yesterday that said "do you think you could maybe not use strikethrough for a couple of posts and see if it doesn't kill you," so I don't even have that to fall back on.
Look! Look what I'm doing! Ha ha, fuckface!
Anyway, for the quiz. Here are the 'rules' (I say 'rules' because I'm not planning on abiding by them) for this quiz, which I stole off Andrea:

1. Respond and rework. Answer the questions on your blog, replace one question you dislike with a question of your own invention; add a question of your own.

2. Tag eight other un-tagged people. Andrea didn't do this, and as she is my BestFriend and role model I am not going to do it either

What is your current obsession?
New book I have just started working on, having realised that completing old book would be kind of like spending 10 years making a sculpture out of Lego. No matter how awesome it is it is still on some level Not Really Art. Anyway this backfired because it turns out new book actually involves research and even though one of my extremely over-indulgent friends is doing most of the data monkey crap for me (he made graphs and everything - I may have to marry him) there is still research. I actually had to go to the library today. Seriously.

I am also obsessed with an $840 jacket from Andrea Moore. I was going to find a picture of it but then I got bored & realised that probably no-one would care anyway. Just imagine a full-length, fitted pirate's coat - long long cuffs, huge collar, those tuck things at the back. In charcoal. If anyone would like to give me $840 then by all means feel free - if it makes you feel better we can pretend it's for a child in Africa.


Do you nap a lot?

I am Sir Nap-a-lot. My mother and sister hate it, though, and wake me up whenever they catch me at it. My favourite place to nap, not that you asked, is on the floor with the dog. He is also a napper.


Who was the last person you hugged?
Charlie. Although actually he is a dog.


What's for dinner?
We have had dinner, and it was Toad in the Hole. Truly, the British have a talent for creating dishes that sound foul and look worse (see also: Spotted Dick) but which turn out to be nothing short of delicious. I cooked the Toad in the Hole (it is actually sausages in Yorkshire pudding, which is a sort of batter) and here is a photograph of it, which I made my mother take because I was so proud of myself. She said: "Please tell me you are not going to show that off on the Internet."

See? Looks nothing like actual toads, in hole or otherwise. Is clearly sausages.


What was the last thing you bought?
I...I'm not sure.


What are you listening to right now?
Damn! I hate that question but already used up my take-out-a-question on 'favourite coffee place.' Never mind. I'm just not going to answer it.


What is your favourite weather?
Really heavy storms. Obviously I am a tortured artist and NO - DON'T EVEN TRY TO UNDERSTAND ME - I AM GOING OUTSIDE NOW - TO WRITE - HAS ANYBODY SEEN MY CIGARETTES


What's on your bedside table?
Well, it's kind of a funny story - this one time I woke up at 3am and vomited half-digested Indian food out my window and stood on the bedside table in my urgency and now I no longer have a bedside table. But on the corner of my desk are the following things: phone shaped like a baby bok choi (not plugged in to anything but there regardless); a coffee plunger with grounds in the bottom; a coffee cup (empty); an iPod (mine); two pairs of eyelash curlers (hmm); various scribbled notes (the one on the top of the pile says 'I know you're a vampire but damn, put some pants on'); a Spanish dictionary; a small plastic statue of a Collie.

Say something to the person/s who tagged you.
I tagged myself and that is pretty much the first sign of madness so I think we'll skip that question too


If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you want it to be?
Good question. Probably somewhere in rural Spain. Why not, after all? They have wine and paella and good-looking men, and I speak more of that language than any other apart from English. Also they're tucked snugly up under the rest of Europe. Europe is Spain's blanky. And they have oranges.


Favourite vacation spot?
Any spot at which I do not have to vacation with other people and where there is a bar.


Name the things you can’t live without.
I presume they mean figuratively, although there is always some smartass who is all 'air and water nyuk nyuk nyuk.' Um...to be honest, I don't really know. Friends and family. Air and water. Nyuk nyuk nyuk.


What would you like to have in your hands right now?
A black AMEX that I never had to pay back. I realise that sounds a little materialistic, but...yeah OK it is. OH WELL


What is your favourite tea flavour?
I like many. English Breakfast is, you know, a classic. The (insert appropriate make of car here) of tea. Earl Grey with lemon is delicious; Earl Grey with Cointreau is super-delicious but people look at you weirdly when you say that (you know, that 'you're-an-alcoholic' look). Green tea with jasmine is nice; green tea without jasmine is nicer. Rooibos is nice, but only with soy milk; coconut rooibos is nice, but only without any milk at all. Kate drinks a tea called 'be happy.' "Are you happy?" I asked? "Well," she said, "I'm not unhappy."


What would you like to get rid of?
The long-dead rose which has been sitting droopily in a vase on my desk for literally weeks but which I haven't yet got around to throwing out. Actually, I'm going to do that now.


If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
Either Wellington, or Vegas (via Denmark to pick up a passenger, because Vegas is no fun on your own and you can't even tell anyone about all the cool stuff that happened there because of that dumb rule). Also in this imaginary situation there would be lots of money and should Vegas turn out to be fun the hour could be extended indefinitely.


What did you want to become as a child?
I don't believe I was ever any more specific than 'awesome.'


What do you miss?
Oh, yeah, quiz, let's get all personal, shall we? I miss having a regular paycheck, and also some dead people. Not that I would like to have them back, unless they were alive. Or benign zombies. That would be OK.


What are you reading right now?
Where Underpants Come From, in which Joe Bennett answers that age-old question. (Not to spoil the ending, but it's China.) The book's very good, actually; would recommend. JB goes to China and has lots of adventures, most of but not all of which revolve around his underpants.


What do you fear the most?
Mediocrity.


What designer piece of clothing would you most like to own (new or vintage)?
Right now? That Andrea Moore pirate coat. But I'm pretty sure if I thought about it I would be able to come up with a better answer.


What is the coolest thing you saw today? (Question by me.)
Well, Ally, funny you should ask that! (Stop it! That's the first sign.) It is this wedding cake. It is from Pink Cake Box, and if I ever need a cake I am going to go and ask them. In fact when my research assistant and I get married Pink Cake Box is going to make my enormous, graph-shaped cake. (where y = affection and x = time)



Tomorrow: an action shot of me getting hit in the arse with a snowball.

EDIT: Shut up NT, Toad in the Hole is meant to look like that.

MORE EDIT: LOOK LOOK at my new clock it's over there --> and up a bit. If you don't get it well come on it's the guy from Prison Break. Prison Break. I wrote 4000 words today and yet I am more proud of constructing that pun than of any of those other words.

In The Last 24 Hours I Did All Of These Things!* NOW WITH SPIDER

*more or less in this order, too

- Woke up at 3am knowing with complete certainty that a) I was about to vomit and b) under no circumstances could I vomit in my bed. Obviously the only thing I could do was vomit out my window. Then go straight back to sleep. Then wake up having forgotten about this entirely and only remembering when reminded by my startled and not altogether pleased mother. Jesus.

- Waterblasted bright orange vomit (previous evening's Butter Chicken making an unexpected comeback) off the side of the house.

- Waterblasted bright orange vomit off the dog.

- Saw the best white trash hairstyle ever! It was being sported by a spotty blond boy who looked like someone on a long-haul flight who has just realised that their seatmate stepped in dogshit prior to getting on the plane. The boy had a big long stringy fringe brushed straight forward and gelled down onto his head - the overall theme of the hairdo was 'stringy.' At the crown of his head he'd constructed a (stringy) Mohawk, and this continued down the back of his head, until it reached his neck. Then it turned into a stringy mullet. It looked pretty much like this -The reason he looks kind of smug because he's thinking about how freakin' awesome his hair is.

- Saw a small boy riding a bike along the footpath (resisted the urge to shout "Retard," you'll be pleased to hear). The weird part is that he had one hand on the handlebars, and was using the other hand to steady a small push scooter he was pulling along beside him. I know that he was probably taking it to a friend's house to play, or something, but it looked ridiculous, Biking Boy with Scooter. Almost said, "Hey, your dog's fallen off" but thought better of it. Am coming to realise that not many of the things I did in the last 24 hours are all that interesting.

- Thought that the reason for a small girl in the supermarket staring at me was because she was in awe of my beauty and sophistication and totally wanted to be like me when she grew up. Actually it was because my top had fallen open and a boob had popped out. Jesus.

- Spent three hours cooking! It was great. I made a pumpkin korma, a pork vindaloo and a somewhat strange but still tasty prawn & chicken kerala-style curry (whatever kerala-style is (strange but still tasty, presumably.)) I count it as a success. Speaking of which, you know what always succeeds? A toothless budgie. Boom boom.

- Not related, but people who say "children are the future" annoy me. Not only is it really quite a pompous thing to say but children are blatantly not the future. I mean, yes, of course I see what you're getting at, but technically nothing is the future except, you know, tomorrow & dates after that. It's like saying "children are eggs." Children are not eggs or the future they are children!

Tomorrow, jetpacks.

Why do mice have very small balls?
Not that many of them know how to dance.

EDIT: I also saved my grandmother from a spider! She has a lot of grey, wispy & perhaps somewhat weblike hair - she was saying something to me at the Indian dinner yesterday (does donating a couple of dishes of food along make me an Indian giver?) - when I noticed there was a rather large (and intrepid) spider in her hair. Nana is 92 and I wasn't sure how she would react to a spider crawling onto her face (i.e. with heart attack), so I had to act quickly and basically the end of the story is that I reached over and removed the spider by making it crawl onto my hand. I am very brave. Spiders are not pleasant. But it didn't bite me, Nana didn't have a heart attack, and we all lived happily ever after. (Including the spider.) I did, however, have a nasty dream about spiders last night.

Not About Jetpacks

See basically I have this vision of the future where everyone flies about with jetpacks strapped onto their backs and the political and social ramifications are immense - but right now I have other, more mundane, things to write about so the jetpacks will just have to wait.

My mother has decided that Kate and I need to do more stuff around the house. She said, "This house is not a hotel!" "What is it," I asked, "a Communist country?" "No! It is a dictatorship." Kate and I, of course, instantly decided to overthrow the regime and ran about shouting things like "The fridge has declared for me! Put that that cheese down!" and "Aha! The toilets are on my side! Where will you rest your dictatorial buttocks now?" End result is that a) Kate and I are now going to do more stuff around the house and b) Kate has started calling me Napoleon, which makes a nice change from Hitler, and declared that she would like to be Pol Pot (on the basis of the funny-sounding name, not the horrific atrocities). We are both fully aware that Pol Pot may be the name of a regime, and not a person, but thanks anyway. (Aside: When Kate and I were deciding which historical heads of state we would be, I asked Mum whether Napoleon, Hitler or Alexander the Great would suit me best. She squinted speculatively at me for about 20 seconds, then said, "I don't think you're a Hitler.")

Tomorrow I get to spend all day cooking! In the kitchen, where a woman belongs. We're having an Indian-themed dinner tomorrow night with my cousins, and I volunteered to do our half of the cooking, because I am both mad and easily excited. I've never cooked Indian before, and I'm a little nervous but also really looking forward to it. I'm going to attempt a thick coconut prawn curry, pork korma, pork vindaloo (we have quite a lot of pork in the freezer at the moment) and possibly some kind of dessert. So excited. Chop dice prep fry steam stir smell taste garnish! Fall asleep on couch.

In other news, I have a weird habit and am wondering if it's one that anyone else shares. I always try to carry as many different pens as possible with me, because I'm really picky about what kind of pen I write with, and my preference changes depending on what I'm writing. At the moment my handbag holds one black ink, one red ballpoint, and one blue ballpoint. Lists, for example, are in plain blue biro. Jokes, catchphrases, and appointments are in red biro. Black ink is for anything Literary - but then all three of those can swap round without notice, depending on the season, my mood, the length of Dr Phil's mustache (metric). It's just me, isn't it. (I need a green pen.)

I discovered the pen habit yesterday at the Library. I also discovered that apparently I love children, which was unexpected as I've always thought I hated the little grublets. I played 'peek-a-boo' with 5 children at the library! And with one midget by accident but let's not talk about that. Seriously, though, never visit the library on weekdays - there are children bloody everywhere I mean everywhere, and they come up to you while their mother is engrossed in Marie Claire and hide behind your legs, and then before you know it you're playing some weird game in which you are making a noise like a hippopotamus (or at least the noise you think a hippopotamus might conceivably make) and the child is going "Eeheehee!" and holding onto your thumb and then you steal the child and it is yours forever. Fuck.

I have decided to start adding tags to blog posts! I know, pretty exciting right. The only thing about this is that it means I have to revisit every one of the 179 posts currently taking up cyberspace on this blog - a concept that blows my mind, by the way. How much stuff can the Internet actually fit? Is it...limitless? Where is all this stuff kept? In Bill Gates' basement? In...in NOWHERE? Oh my God, how does this work? I have to stop thinking about this or my mind will shrink into a tiny, whimpering ball. Am just going back to talking about those 179 posts and how I have to go back and tag them as well, because to start tagging now and not go back and tag every single one of my previous posts would send me into a mental meltdown, like the one I just has (whoops, unintentional lolcat) when I tried to think about the internet.

In other news, I hate lolcats. I'm sorry, that is one meme which has passed me by. Show me one - just one - that is actually laugh-out-loud funny (or even clever I'd settle for clever) and I will completely revise my position; but for now they remain an abomination. Not unlike this rather pointless post. I mean, c'mon! It's not even about jetpacks.

Final point: moths rock. One fell in my wine, so I lifted it out & put it near my lamp to dry. Next time I looked over, it had fallen into my coffee (from the edge of the book-stack where I'd put it to dry its wings). So I pulled it out again. The little bastard is still alive, and has now dried his wings and flown away! Two thoughts. One: he is awesome and when he returns home he'll get a ghost author, write about his ordeal, sell the movie rights and become a millionaire. Two: he was suicidal and I've totally destroyed his plans but possibly restored his will to live. Either way, that moth rocks.

Dream*

*proper post below, if you'd like to skip this one

So last night I had another weird dream. It has been a week of weird dreams. It was about as weird as the octopus dream - as with the octopus dream, the apocalypse features; however in this dream I don't give birth to anything, just get condemned to death. And they say other people's dreams are boring! (Hey, no-one's making you read this. On which note, there will be a test tomorrow. You think I'm kidding, don't you.)

So when this all started I was in Taiwan with a tour group. It was definitely Taiwan, because someone in a beret tried to tell me I was in Thailand, and a large argument ensued. We (the tour group) were all sitting on the grass outside a temple, and me and the elephant (the only elephant in the tour group, by the way) were drinking cheap vodka. Unfortunately, neither myself or the elephant were aware than in Taiwan drinking cheap vodka is Treason and will get you sentenced to death! So the elephant and I went to trial and were condemned to be shot by a firing squad next Thursday...it seemed there was nothing I could do to avoid my death!

But luckily it was OK because everyone in the tour group had just been paid, and so the elephant and I, hiding out in an orchard by day, were soon well on the way to stealing enough money to flee the country. Unfortunately, we then found a secret stash of alcohol, and the elephant ran away with the alcohol & the money...leaving me to face the authorities, and my death!

But luckily it was OK because right then the world flooded. I ended up on top of an ocean liner, standing at the front in a very Leo-in-Titanic way, shouting with glee as around me people tumbled over the side to their deaths. (Apparently I was having far too much fun for the end of the world to affect me.) The water rose up over all the buildings, all the cities - I remember looking over the side and seeing skyscrapers far under the water. It was awesome. The sky was covered with huge heavy grey & black clouds & lightening, and from time to time the heavens would open and a huge quantity of water would gush down and hit the oceans, which were a turbulence of waves & whirlpools. I saw a particularly huge gush of water crashing down near the liner and, in a flash of brilliance, threw myself from the liner onto a tiny, bright orange rubber dinghy. The liner went down! I survived! I was tossed about on the sea and eventually went over a HUGE waterfall...off the edge of the world, to my death!

But luckily it was OK because at the bottom of the waterfall was San Francisco, which had been spared from the Flood. (Don't ask me why.) So I entered San Francisco and joined a pack of vampire tiger-human mutants, and we snacked upon a Muslim community on the top of a hill.

Be Less Professional

That was the advice I received at work today. Let's just take a moment to think about that. 'Be Less Professional.' 'Do a slightly more shitty job.' 'Stop putting in quite so much effort.' No, not because I was making everybody else look bad. I am not. CC, who has actually turned into Cocky Colleague (formerly Cute), is making everybody else look bad with his obscene number of sales. On the bright side, his shirt was ironed all half-assed today because his mother's out of town (no, really...he is suitably unprofessional).

My boss, who is a big bluff West Coast man who runs about shouting things like "Let's get EXCITED about the FANTASTIC deal we're going to offer these PEOPLE, RIGHT?!" came over to my desk mid-morning, listened to a call, and then said that while my presentation was perfect, I knew the product backwards, I was charming on the phone and was more or a big person-shaped chunk of awesome, I would sell more if I was less professional. Apparently it scares people. Wait, what? People don't want buy something off someone who sounds like they know what they're doing? You'd rather give your credit card number to someone who says "youse?"

(I would just like to add that I'm not scary on the phone - I have a warm voice and am friendly and laugh, and stuff. I just sound like I work for a large company and have been properly trained. Boss also said, "You sound like a telemarketer," which confused the shit out of me because if I wasn't hired to be a telemarketer then what the hell am I meant to be doing??)

I mean, I see their point in that I am no longer doing business-to-business sales & therefore no longer need to sound overly business-like, but really. I've already become about 40% less professional on the phone since starting there. I mean, who really says...'at ridiculous prices?' (I do. CC has taken it one step further and now says 'outrageous.' CC is tosser.) I got annoyed this afternoon, decided to really overdo it, and said, "....to offer you an absolutely fantastic holiday at a simply ridiculous price!!" My boss, who was listening (I did not know this at the time) loved it. The woman on the other end of the phone thought it was hilarious.

So now, instead of saying, "This is Courtney calling from Amazing Company! How are you? I'm ringing because we're currently offering 30 couples and families the chance to get away on a fabulous resort holiday with us at a simply ridiculous price," I will say, "Gidday! This is Courtney! Wanna go on a fucking fantastic holiday, mate? What? 'Course you do! Gimme a min to go over the basics. Good on you!"

Anyway. Enough about horrible job. (Horrible horrible horrible - Zachy, don't let this put you off. They are still hiring people because they assume (I am not making this up) that out of every 8-10 person training group, 2 people will stay past the first week. You could be one of those two! *gasp*)

Last night I had a dream. Yeah, yeah, I know other people's dreams are boring. However, I am the exception to this rule and here is why: Last night, asleep, I was lying in an underground concrete bunker (post-nuclear holocaust), taking part in a competition to see who could be the first to give birth to a live octopus. And I won. That's right, folks. My subconscious decided last night was the night to birth a large, slimy, purple, post-apocalyptic octopus. Just like this one.


"And he will call me Father, and I will call him Son."

Is my subconscious merely acting out against my horrible job, or do I have a deeply buried tentacle fetish? You be the judge.

Google search "airplane hangover"

Final installment of TLDOML coming soon!

Um, when I'm not so tired. Probably tomorrow.
Ok, tomorrow!

Yes, I promise.

Well it's your fault for reading it, isn't it.

What do you mean I always make it about you? This is about you!

Well, it's not about me any more, is it? Hah.

What? No, I don't. I'm going to bed.

*slam*

I had a Weekend!

You too, huh? Oh wow. Well, this is what I did on mine. (You can tell me what you did on yours, if you like.)

Went out on Friday night with pleasant workmates, as opposed to tacky sordid drunken work crowd who go out every Wednesday and Friday and seem to be constantly sleazing onto each other (it's amazing how judgmental I'm bein' here considering that until about 2 weeks ago I was a card-carrying member of that crowd) - anyway, it was a very enjoyable night! It is not every evening (or early morning, I do not recall the minor details) that you end up eating stolen pistachios in a convenience store. I really should empty all of those pistachio shells out of my handbag.

Sister Flatmate went to a wedding on Saturday - I forgot she was going until she charged through the front door at lunchtime in in a state of extreme over-excitement, shouting about how her friends would be round in ten minutes and how we had to clean everything. Sent her off to the wedding a couple of hours later, having sat through the standard "are you sure about this dress/lipstick/bag/coat/hairstyle/pair of earrings" and "do you think these stockings/earrings/boots/bangles are a mistake" and "do my ankles look awful? No? Are you sure?" (All the women on my father's side of the family have chronic cankles, including my three sisters and me - none escape the curse. It is B or possibly Z grade horror movie-worthy. Night of the Cankles. Just when you thought it was safe to wear shoes with ankle straps.)

Anyway, packed SF off to her wedding (well, to the wedding she was going to (it is really strange that I can't be bothered backspacing to fix a minor error of phrasing, but I have no issues with carrying blithely on and trying to explain said error, which takes many more keystrokes)), and then my friend who was down from up north for the weekend came round for a catch-up, which was great fun -

Except for two things.

1) She interrupts a lot, and completely shamelessly - you'll be about halfway through a sentence, and she'll just start talking over you. Sometimes it's on the same topic, and sometimes it's not. Also makes no difference whether or not you keep talking, she is unstoppable. For about half an hour I had an experiment running when every time she interrupted over the top of me, I kept talking until I had finished what I was originally going to say...but she got annoyed and I got the giggles (it's remarkably funny when you've got two people who are just talking at each other) and so I gave up and resigned myself to the fact that for the rest of the evening I was going to have to give up on every fourth or fifth sentence.

2) She always, always, always comments negatively on my weight and/or general appearance. If I've put on weight, it'll be something along the lines of "oh, what are the restaurants in your new area like?" Me: "Um, good, there's a really nice Chinese place up the road which-" Her, over the top of my restaurant review: "Hee hee, I thought your face was chubbier!" Hee hee. If I've lost weight, it'll be more along the lines of a musing, apropos to nothing (I think I might've used that phrase wrong, but hopefully it's close enough to the proper usage that you get what I mean) comment of, "you know, I'm glad I'm curvy." Me: "Oh?" Her: "Yes. I mean, men don't like a boyish figure like yours, they like women to look like women." Why, I hear you ask, why do I not then hit her in the face with a chair? Because - actually this is kind of like the punchline - she is the size of a house, which instantly renders all of her rudeness laughable. I feel like saying alternately "Yes, I have put on weight, and now weigh approximately two thirds of what you do!" and "Yes - damn that visible bone structure!" but I never do, because I was brought up properly.

Why is it that some fat people feel that because they are fat, it gives them the right to comment on everyone else's body shape? She also says things like "yes, I am large, but I'm in proportion - I go in and out at all the right places, and I'm still very shapely." Yes. You are shaped like a potato.

Anyway - she is a good friend and we did have a good evening (apart from a minor hitch where she wanted to heat something up in our oven, which was full of filthy dishes from pre-wedding clean. SF and I are filth wizards). We went into town and had a few cocktails before going to a karaoke bar and belting out Mr Brightside at about two in the morning - it was a fun night and a pretty sober one too, which was good. I have decided that sobriety is the new hedonism. (Except for paydays, public holidays, personal crises, friends having personal crises etc., in which case I am prepared to make an exception and become stinking rotten maggoted drunk.)

Got up nice and early today and spent a couple of hours with the Sunday paper, then 'springzanised' my room - it's more than tidying & re-organising, but less than spring cleaning - and did two loads of washing. Very very windy but warmish day here, so I thought I'd wash everything that looked even remotely like it might benefit from it, as well as SF's stuff. Ended up struggling out to the line with my arms full of clothes and cleavage stuffed with pegs (the peg bucket doesn't have a handle, and I hate having to bend down to get pegs on every item and dropping about five things in the process), much to the confusion of the neighbours, who were putting up a trellis. The neighbours also got to watch me playing Underpants Wrangler when bringing the clothes in again. For anyone who's never played Underpants Wrangler, you start off with a bunch of clothes stuffed under one arm and a bucket of pegs under the other, and you end up with a bunch of clothes stuffed under one arm, pegs everywhere, bras flying into the garden, and a pair of your sister's control pants on your head. Ideal playing conditions: gale force winds.

In other news, am going to visit Chch next weekend - more on this later as my excitement builds - and get paid my six-monthly commission this week. I'm also thinking about a revolutionary new hairstyle. Phwoar.

Another day, another detox

"I am starting another detox," I shouted to Sally, in the bathroom brushing her teeth. "You just started another beer!" "I am starting it tomorrow morning. Start of a new week. New week, new detox! Not every week though."
Pause.
From the bathroom - "It's hard to brush your tongue."

So! New detox. Woke up yesterday to sound of neighbours mowing lawn and shouting at their children, and thought, 'Who has told them about my hangover?' Stupid neighbours.

I have lost my cellphone - this is far less distressing than I had imagined it would be! Actually it's quite nice to not be contactable 24 hours of the day. I guess in this day and age it's kind of irresponsible not to have one - for emergencies and so on - but still, it's quite tempting to remain cellphoneless and therefore somewhat off the radar. (I just like that phrase.)

I am totally stuck for ideas for NaNoWriMo! Like a car that has careened off the road and into a muddy paddock of clay whilst being driven by a learner driver whose father told them to turn FAR too late (this may or may not be based on a true story), I am well and truly stuck. However, I have faith that, like the car, I will - after a bit of futile wheel-spinning - come unstuck. Albeit with a lot of effort and cursing.

Has anything else interesting happened? Today I modelled (modeled? wore) some vintage clothing for my sister to list on Facebook - I'll see if my blogging skills are up to adding a picture. They probably aren't...I shall save a draft just in case, because I would hate for any of the previous stunning paragraphs to vanish into the inter-ether.


Ooh, look, I can do it! There I am. I love that dress, actually - you can't see the fabric very well there (poor photo) but it's stunning. I might put another one on. I really must buy a digital camera, I'd like to be able to put more photos of ME on the INTERNET. That's right, ME ON THE INTERNET!

How vain. I just want something interesting to come up when I Google myself.

So! Now that I have learned that new skill (do I gain a level? experience points? can I add a class? or do I just feel slightly ashamed of my startlingly geeky inner self) I shall go back to my usual rambling on about nothing (no large fruit today - sorry.)

(See, if I had a digital camera, I could've taken a photo of that enormous banana, so that you too could marvel at its hugeness. Just saying.)

As previously mentioned, I am having a dither about NaNoWriMo. I would like to write an adventure story - from the city to the jungle, from the jungle to the sea, from the pirate encounter to the mountain cave chase to the sacrificial altar to the last-minute escape and home again in time for supper - but I've never written anything even vaguely near that genre before and so it's a daunting thought. I normally write tongue-in-cheek, pun-filled well, bollocks. (Not that I'm saying this won't be bollocks. Have no fear, it will be!) I don't know how to write about the jungle! I don't know how to write a fight scene, or speed along an adventure plot! I don't even know why they'd be on an adventure anyway. I'm not sure I want to do another Quest - I think perhaps some sort of war/evading death scenario would be interesting but, as I said, I have no experience at all. Eek! Helpeth! I shall think of something on the way to work tomorrow.

Ooh, there is movie on! Cillian Murphy appears to be in Mexico. There is nothing I don't like about this! Adios, amigos! (and amigas.) If you need me, I will be in Mexico. Worrying about my novel and partaking in the medicinal application of tequila and peyote.

EDIT: Oh my God, I have eaten so much bread in the last three days. I have become obsessed with soup & bread. I average six slices of bread to a cup of soup, which is excessive, if not downright revolting! I am having bread guilt. And also eating yet another delicious piece of pea & ham-drenched toast! I am going to become huge. Like the banana. Oh my God! I have got to stop talking about that banana.

I saw an ENORMOUS BANANA!

Huge, it was! Twice the length and girth of a normal banana! I am not making this up. I was walking past a grocer's on my way home from work and there it was, a yellow behemoth nestled incongruously between two apples by some mischievous passerby. Just past that was a WHOLE BOX OF ENORMOUS BANANAS. On the excitement stakes, this ranked somewhere between animals escaping from the zoo and my lunchtime bagel, highlight of my workday. I almost bought one, but then I remembered that I don't like bananas. Still, I was tempted by the MAMMOTH BANANA.

My lunchtime bagel was excellent today by the way - the only flaw was that I got over-excited and had it at 11am, and then was hungry again by fourish. I have just eaten six pieces of toast (six!) and had a cup-a-soup. I mean, a cup of soup. Damn you, Maggi, for dumbing me down! (We're currently ignoring the fact that I got really excited about seeing a large banana.)

Did anything else exciting happen today? The power bill arrived, but it turns out that enormous power bills are much less exciting than enormous bananas.

I am tempted to have another cup-a-soup, (cupacupacupacupacupacupa SOUP!) but then I will eat a whole loaf of bread, and then there will be an ENORMOUS ME.

Do you know what looks awesome? The Lego Batman game, that's what.

7

Hello! It's me again.

My impossibly coloured friend Andrea (acatofimpossiblecolour.blogspot.com) has found another nice meme for friends to complete - you list seven random facts about yourself (and presume that people are interested in reading them). So, without further ado, let me present

Seven Facts About Ally
Now I can't think of anything even remotely interesting.

1. I am a huge fan of the Easy-Off Bam! ads. The catchphrase they shout after demonstrating the amazing cleaning powers of Bam ("Bam! And the dirt is gone.") is my favourite part. I have developed a habit of shouting it whilst cleaning things. I shouted it in the shower the other day. I have also been known to shout it when leaving a room ("Bam! And the Ally is gone") and drinking ("Bam! And the wine is gone.") Not a particularly illustrious start to the seven facts I know. But I feel Bam! is an integral part of my personality and, obscurely, the key to understanding my inner workings.

2. I had a storybook as a child which still makes me cry - it's called Black Dog. It's about a girl who has a black dog, and the girl and Black Dog are best friends who do everything together. One day the girl and Black Dog go to the beach, and the girl sees an absolutely beautiful bird. She goes to play with the bird, but before she reaches it, it flies away. Every day from then on, all the girl does is stare out the window looking for the bird. She never plays with Black Dog any more. Weeks go by and the bird doesn't come back, and the girl gets sadder and sadder. Then one morning she looks out the window and sees the bird in a tree outside! So she runs outside, and as she runs outside she sees Black Dog jump from the tree and fall to the ground, and Black Dog dies, because he was trying to be the bird for her, and he was trying to fly.
Silly story - am pretty sure dogs can't climb trees.

3. I really like my hands - they aren't particularly pretty hands, they're too square, quite scarred and my fingers aren't very tapered (rings make my fingers look squat, one more reason to not get married! hee) but I like them anyway. I am occasionally jealous of people with slender, delicate little hands, but then I guess I can...hold more stuff? Yeah! They may have dancer's hands, but I can hold stuff. Like, seven wine glasses at once. Although to be fair that is more down to the precise art of balancing wine glasses rather than superior hand strength or size.

4. About five years ago I drew an almost perfect interrobang, freehand, in Vivid on a white sheet of paper. I've kept it ever since, usually stuck up on my wall. It was only a few months ago that I was messing about on Wikipedia, looking up obscure punctuation marks (I do not remember why) when I came across the interrobang and instantly went, "That's that thing I drew!"

Sorry that I'm not much good at this!

5. I enjoy making graphs. I used to love analysing data, plotting points, joining them and then sitting back and looking at the perfect lines. Which is quite out of keeping with my normal haphazard style, but probably explains my love of cleaning fridges and Bach fugues.

6. If I could pick any superpower, I'd go for teleportation, closely followed by telepathy. If I had three wishes, I'd wish for teleportation powers, telepathic powers, and happy and satisfying lives for my friends and relatives. (And then I would give all of my money to charity. Ha ha.)

7. (Thank God, last one! There don't seem to be many interesting facts about me.) When I was 16, I dyed my hair orange by accident. I wanted to bleach it from its natural very dark brown to white-blonde. Obviously doing this at home was a great idea. With Andrea's assistance (thank you, Andrea) I managed to get it white-blonde. For about two days. And then, unsurprisingly, it went ginger and refused to go back. It wouldn't dye blond, it wouldn't dye dark...it was a nightmare. My friends called me Matchstick as it was what I resembled. On the plus side, it's pretty easy to pick me out in the yearbook photo! Tee hee.


I am so very much looking forward to going to sleep tonight! It has been a long week so far - work's really busy at the moment, and haven't been having the earliest of nights. We're down a team member at work since the departure of VB (who is loving his new job, company car etc...bastard) and as he and I did about 70% of the work between us, his absence has left a rather large hole. IN MY HEART.

Tee hee! Not really. Right, I am going to bed because otherwise I will be a zombie tomorrow, and it's hard to be enthused about eftpos when all you want is brains. Although today was almost as bad - I had immense bagel cravings until lunchtime, when I had a bagel and didn't think about bagels for almost half an hour! I am a bagel zombie.

Pretentious Wankery

This was actually going to be a post about something else completely, but now it is not. It is going to be an excerpt from an (online) conversation about a friend's recent breakup, and it goes a little something like this... (blogroll, please.)

Me: "Sorry to hear about your breakup blah blah sympathy nice supportive things."
Him: "funny thing is, after the natural sting, which dissapated very quickly, i realsied i just dont care - i just want her to be happy" (all spelling mistakes his)
Me: "fair enough! obviously good time to end it then."
Him (and this is my favourite part): "funny...it reminded me of soemthing I worte on a scarp of paper after my first breakup..."At first I thought you had abandoned me, now I know you set me free""
Me: "OH GOD YOU'RE SO DEEP LET'S MAKE OUT." (No, not really. I didn't really say that.)
Bleh, pretentious. Is it meant to scan, do you think?
I am going to write "At first I thought you had abandoned me, and you had, because I was a twat" on a piece of paper and put it in his letterbox.

ANYWAY. What was I actually going to talk about? Oh, ASB are giving little elephant-shaped money boxes away to their younger customers. I wonder why they don't give them to adults as well? It seems like reverse discrimination. Maybe they would if you asked for one. I don't even bank with ASB.

That was not what I was going to talk about. It turns out that I've forgotten what I was going to talk about, what with the pretentious wankery and the elephant-shaped money boxes. I am hopeless sometimes!

Am still sick, but less so. They keep changing my medication (by 'they' I mean the doctors - I realise that sounded a bit paranoid) & the side effects keep differing. Whee. Is quite fun in some ways, though - took meds this morning whilst doing makeup and, about five minutes later, was putting on mascara when I thought "Ooh I feel a bit weird" and as I watched, my pupils went WHOOMPH and became enormous.

Bleh, I have to do the dishes. More on this later. Bleh bleh bleh dishes bleh bleh ooh I feel ill.

Edit:

Have done dishes. It is now later. Have scrubbed two casserole pots free of burnt on casserole that flatmate made last night. Would be feeling a lot less resentful about this if casserole had not given me gas.

Cleaning pots has made me a) feel cranky and b) feel better. At the moment the two are warring within me. Cranky is just edging out better. It's like a drag race between good and evil, except not really.

In other news, I may have to pull out of the show. This is indescribably sucky, but I keep being sick and missing rehearsals. Gah. Am going to talk to the director tomorrow. Gah! Sorry to end on a low note (makes low note noise...booooooop) but feel like I should put some Actual Information in this post, not just, well, crap.

Sick Day

Sick days frustrate me. Half of me is going YAY NO WORK YAY but the other half of me feels disgusting and wants to sit on the couch all day, which seems to be the plan at the moment. I hate spoiling a perfectly good day off work by feeling like crawling back to bed.

This sick day is a bit out of the ordinary - usually when I'm sick I go to work all week as per usual, getting worse by the day, in some sort of weird wartime mentality. The inevitable result of this is that I get properly sick and have to spend the weekend (and usually some of the next week as well) in bed, feeling rotten. So Monday and Tuesday this week (it is Wednesday) I felt under the weather (colleague: "You look like shit! Go home!") and woke up this morning feeling functional but still shitty, so took day off.

The downside is that I am going to have HEAPS to do tomorrow. Just thinking about it makes me tiii-red. I guess it's probably better to do 2 days' worth of work in one day, feeling 100%, than 2 days' worth of work in 2 days, feeling 40%. I think. I feel a bit guilty about not going into work because it would've been physically possible for me to go but I really have to get over that! Work will not implode without me, and I am far too busy at the moment to get sick. Do you believe me? I believe me.

Gah! Every time I flick the TV onto the music channel something by Liam Finn is playing. Think TV is cursed. Also think Liam Finn is the musical equivalent of sponge cake. Generic and in no way groundbreaking, yet people are impressed out of all proportion. Also they both annoy me with their weird textures (harmonically speaking in the case of LF (but not in the case of SC)).

Perhaps I will cook something. At the moment my list of Achievements For The Day goes 'got up, made coffee, wrote blog, will possibly have shower later' and I feel like I should add to it because I am WASTING THIS BEAUTIFUL DAY.

EDIT: I can now add to my list of achievements 'dropped half a carrot behind the fridge.' Fuck. Think will just leave it there and hope it doesn't start to smell. It will be a nice surprise for the people who next live in this house, or perhaps we will rediscover it when we move out. It will be the kitchen equivalent of leaving a $5 note in your jeans, forgetting about it, and finding it next time you wear them. A little present to yourself! A little present made of mouldy carrot. Oh dear.

One hit wonders

C4 is playing a whole Top 40 of them! Once I ran to you, now I run from you...
I am having a quiet little rock out. Have become incapable of using the phrase 'rock out' in any seriousness (not that it was ever a particularly easy phrase to take seriously) a since a workmate of mine referred to another colleague (who was engaged in some blatantly excessive display of skill in front of the boss) as 'rocking out with his cock out.' I was so amused at this that now workmate has adopted 'rock out with your cock out' as a standard workplace phrase. So now I can't say 'rock out' any more.

Wow, what an unnecessary story. I was going to say that I am having a quiet Saturday night at home by myself, watching the Top 40 and mucking about on Facebook. I was going to talk about the two different types of tea I bought today (jasmine and coconut rooibos), and how I had yum cha for the first time and tried chicken feet (which turned out to be surprisingly like soggy, spicy KFC), and how VB sent me a rather pointless txt last night (thus proving his love once and for all), and how awesome the Pseudo Echo cover of Funkytown is (only #11 on the countdown? come on, NZ, you shoulda known to vote better than that), and that I am reading a very strange horror novel written in (let me check) 1975 in which the author gives you 5 pages of detailed backstory about a character then kills them off with a deadly fog (it sends you insane (the fog, although the whole 'getting you involved with a character then offing them 5 times in a row' thing is also pretty annoying)...novel is called THE FOG which pretty much sums up the subtlety of the writing style), and that I am going to go and visit my hometown in about 3 weeks, provided I get round to booking tickets, -

but then I distracted myself with a story about rocking out whilst exposing yourself.

Good work, soldier. As you were.

Three Beautiful Things
1. Went out last night for drinks with workmates as one of my good friends from work is going overseas for a month on Monday - it was a really good evening as everyone was in cheerful moods and we had a really good time. Also, I managed to survive the entire evening without drinking too much, staying out too late, spending too much money, saying any inappropriate things, sending any drunken txts, or embarrassing myself in a way not covered by any of the previous categories. In short, was completely unlike my usual evening out! And more fun. I should practice the ancient art of self-restraint more often.

2. While out last night, I had a daffodil pinned to my shirt for Daffodil Day - ended up giving this to a woman I met briefly whilst lining up at the bar (in slightly pissed but well-meaning spirit of charity). Ran into her about half an hour later, and she had stuck the daffodil in her hair and was showing it off to all and sundry.

3. Caught up with ex-flatmate today for coffee and a wander round the antique shops in my suburb - went into strange little curio shop where she bought an old Bible and an eggcup in the shape of a child (this is strange, I think). While she was chatting to the old gentleman behind the counter (who had some interesting points to make about God - "And do you read your Bible?" "I have studied it, but only the New Testament, so I thought I'd buy the Old Testament as well." "Remember, read it with your heart" - taps chest - "not your head. Our Lord, in his wisdom, saw fit to make the Bible something to read with your heart - if it made sense to apply your intellect then some people would be at a disadvantage" (am not sure if this is a very sensible thing to say or a convenient way to explain the complete irrationality of blind faith, old man is possibly a prophet but, then again, possibly not and that is not what this story is about)) I was fishing about in one of those little baskets of cheap thingies that often sit on the counter in junk/secondhand/antique shops and found a silver badge in the shape of a 7 which I was instantly taken with. It cost me 50c. I really, really like it - you know how sometimes you see an object and have an instant, um, aesthetic affinity with it? That wasn't a very good way of putting it - I just really liked the badge and felt like I was meant to come across it. I have pinned it on my jacket.

Wish TV had a remote. I am going to have to get off the couch now. Perhaps will test out one of my new teas while I'm up. No other news.

Grouch!

I am a grouch. Here are some reasons why (this is possibly going to replace Three Beautiful Things as am having a bit of an off day).

Why I Am A Grouch

- Have no money. Have spent all money on CRAP.
- Hate job but haven't got another one yet, so can't quit.
- Got moved back up a seat and band and can't handle it - want to sit on nice, easy seat not difficult, exposed one. Can play all the parts but knowledge that everyone can hear me doing so is awful. But can't quit as band is like the Mafia.
- Had dream last week in which I was a cabbage that was rotting in the vege crisper of someone's fridge, and people kept looking in the fridge and saying things like "there were so many dishes that would've been perfect in, but now we'll have to throw it out." Woke up very very disturbed and upset and have been having panic attacks since. Is obviously thinly veiled subconscious having a bit of a spaz. Not helpful! Had panic attack in the supermarket where got to the checkout with trolley of groceries, freaked out, and had to leave entire trolley at the checkout and leave. Thought people only did that in the movies! Was horrible and worrying. Am worried will have panic attack at work.
- Best work friend is away sick and has been all last week. Is dreary.
- Keep eating! Eating, eating, eating. Wish could stop doing so.
- Have cut fringe and do not like it. I look like one of the Beatles. If the Beatles were made of Lego.
- Am tired. Want to have a holiday but this is not a practical idea.
- Am meant to be catching up with about ten people (actually) for drinks/coffee/lunch/dinner/other tiring social events in the next couple of weeks - keep putting them off, and they keep getting annoyed and guilt-tripping me, so I can't enjoy nights off because I'm meant to be out meeting up with people that, for the most part, I can't be bothered seeing. I would love to go and see them if it wasn't cold and I wasn't tired, but it is and I am. I also know that 'maintaining friendships takes work' blah blah blah. I do not care. I will maintain friendships another time. Right now I will make a cup of tea (and complain, apparently).

Sorry about stupid whiny blog, but am grouchy. As previously mentioned. Oh well. All stuff that'll fix itself, I guess, but am just not very patient.

On a good note - work friend back tomorrow, have cup of tea, Skins is on tonight, have done washing for tomorrow, and hair is not actually that bad. A veritable scale of positive notes!

Sick Day

I am not at work because I am SICK! My glands have all swollen up and I keep being ill. No fun is being had here today (although this may change as I plan to buy some candy (which will then be thrown up again, but such is life) and watch Dr Phil and be secretly pleased that I am too sick to work). I have called work. I left a message (after first talking to myself to make sure I sounded sick - I am, I really am, but I don't want people to think I'm not. Maybe I should take a photo of my vomit and put it on Face- no, that's revolting) saying "I might be in at lunchtime, will see how I go." Have just called again and informed colleague that I will not be in at lunchtime.

Think will be in tomorrow, though - hope will be in tomorrow! Otherwise work will mount to a ridiculous level. Also I then might have to take illness seriously enough to go to the doctor, which I hope I don't have to do because a) it's expensive and b)it's a hassle and c) the doctor always guilt-trips me about my crappy lifestyle and poor diet and so on. Also I usually find that when I get there my symptoms are less dramatic than they were at home and they sound quite pathetic when reeled off. Which makes me feel like I should exaggerate, but that's ridiculous because how is the doctor meant to diagnose you properly when you're making things up? Long story short, I don't like going to the doctor and hope that tomorrow I am ALL BETTER and don't have to.

No new news...being at home all day is BORING. BORING BORING BORING BORING.

Maybe I will hobble down to the dairy. But that would mean taking off slippers and putting on shoes...or would it??

Everyone knows you get to wear slippers out of the house when you are sick (or old).

Not An Exciting Day

I would now like to share a small anecdote which, I feel, sums up how today has gone so far:

It is 12.45. The office is apathetic. One of my podmates returns to the room, clutching a footlong Subway sandwich in his hand. Instantly, about 5 voices pipe up with variations on "What did you get?" with more enthusiasm than has been shown about anything all day. Then we crowd around and look at the sandwich and comment on how long it is and how he will NEVER eat it all. Then we watch as he proceeds to eat it all, and we comment on this.

ARGH BLAH NEW JOB PLEASE.

In other news, band has started gearing up properly for Brisbane - this is great except for when I'm the only person from my section there and actually have to play things, which happened yesterday. Turns out it's quite hard to play and panic at the same time. for a while there I was making a noise like air escaping from a balloon ("eeeeee.....THURP") but luckily this was relatively shortlived. However there is now no band until wednesday, by which time I will have done ridiculous amounts of practice and become trumpet GOD. (practice will all be done on Tuesday because tonight my older sister is in town and we are going for a beer, but still. trumpet gods such as myself never need more than one night to learn a test piece).

How am I going to make my afternoon more exciting? the tragic thing is that nothing springs to mind. I shall just sit there and count down until five. Perhaps I should count down to everything! "5...4...3...2..1...going to the FAX MACHINE!" "5...4...3...2...1...going to STAPLE THIS PAPERWORK!" Or perhaps I should treat the afternoon as if it were an opera (albeit a very boring one) and constantly detail what I am doing in beautiful, dramatic song. "The copier, the copier, I'm going to the copier, it's only three STEPS AAAAA-WAAAAAAY!" Complete with gestures and countermelodies provided by coworkers, of course.

right, back to it.

Lunchtime!

I went to Cuba to pay the power bill and there was a man with no pants on but I paid it anyway.

also I saw a man wearing dirty white overalls with a white cape on him (it is windy and this looked quite dramatic), and I couldn't tell if he was a painter or a superhero which would, incidentally, make an interesting first sentence of a novel.

I am now out of long rambling sentences.

Work is much the same except now I am in a new 'pod'. Same shit, different pod? And there is a pool night tonight which I am deciding whether or not to go to, as below:

Pros

- I like pool
- I am sometimes quite good at pool
- I could make friends with people from all over the company, therefore giving me more randoms to email during the day and decreasing the amount of time I spend actually working

Cons

- Sometimes I am surprisingly bad at pool
- Neither of my 'security blanket' type workmates are coming, meaning I would run the risk of Awkward Social Moments
- I am liable to get drunk and do something embarrassing
- which will probably involve one of my workmates
- which should maybe be on the Pros list
- and that is why I should probably just go home and watch TV
- but that's boring
- (even though So You Think You Can Dance is on)

...and that's pretty much the way it's been going all day.

Somehow I have become distracted and am looking at photos of someone's hedgehog on Bebo. I don't even know this person, what am I doing? it's a pretty good hedgehog though. Back to work now.

The Terminalator

I have sold many terminals! I am well ahead of my silly colleagues! I am fabulously wealthy sales goddess!
Also, I am very good-looking.

The bit about the wealthy was a lie - found out last night that trip to australia (which is in a MONTH) is not going to cost $500 more, but $974 more! ...fuck. That is the kind of money which I do not have. If anyone has ever thought "wow, she is a great friend, I would like to reward her financially" or "oh yes, I owe her money, Sarah," or "gosh I would pay to sleep with her" well come on people, NOW'S THE TIME.

Am obviously a little worried about financial ruin. However my Mummy is coming to stay for a couple of days, which will be really nice.

Had drink with the BBC, who is nice and does not look like Paul McCartney, not even a little bit. We magically connected and are now going to go and live in the mountains and rear eftpos machines, and have small, very financially savvy children (financially savvy part will come from his side, but I will teach them all they need to know about herding terminals).

He is, however, still with girlfriend but flirting madly with self. My self, not his, although what he gets up to in his own time is none of my business.

Why does this so frequently occur (like, twice)? Why? Why? WHY??!!

It must be because I am so attractive and emotionally mature.

I must go home early and clean the house before my Mummy arrives - much as she loves me, she would not love the current state of my room, which is littered with beer bottles and empty fag packets and the like. I call it 'hobo-chic interior decor', but she calls it 'filthy mess.' We agree to disagree and also that I am a slattern.

Other news? hmmm. Not really. Except that now it is time to return to the fold! the fold of work. I think I have had too much coffee.

Today At Work I

...went to the bathroom three times. Must remember to only have coffee at smoko, not lunch, otherwise is embarrassing when go to the bathroom more than anyone else. Coffee is instant and horrible, so this shouldn't be hard.

...discovered through an unintentional process of trial and error that one of the worst songs to have stuck in your head, ever, is that one that goes "So there I was, diggin' this 'ole, 'ole in the ground, quite deep and sorta round" and that's really about all I know. It's such a jaunty tempo, though, and such a catchy tune that it just goes round and round and round. Like the 'ole. After that I promptly thought "Well, at least it's not Crazy Frog." And then I spent about 20 minutes wanting to DIE.

...had an idea for a makeover reality TV show where teams of experts pick up crack whores and try and pass them off as society types. They are, of course, in competition for a million dollars (although I haven't figured out how to get 'stranded on a desert island' into it yet.) It shall be Pygmalion for this generation! I will call it "Pimp My Ho'." You have no idea how long that amused me for between lunch and afternoon smoko today. Is that name ironic? postmodern? stupid? genius? I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE.

...found an earwig. Hooray!

And now I am home again...was about to sit in front of the fire with a book but Dad has just txt and said "Me and Barb (the ladyfriend) home for dinner in half hour. Can you do prep please." So now I am going to go and cook pastas and chop sprouts and defrost chicken. Bugger, bugger, bugger. I don't even LIKE sprouts. I think they are an ABOMINATION of the VEGETABLE WORLD.