Inside the Underwear Drawer

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

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

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

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...

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

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

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..

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

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!

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...

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

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

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...

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...

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

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

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?

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

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