Happy birthday to me!!!
today I turn 21. It is currently 1:13am. There is a documentary about how the balinese think that rice is a manifestation of God, and watched a ceremony where they stepped on the heads of dead cows and prayed for the gods to come down and manifest themselves in their rice-dough statues.
Now I see an old woman wearing a 2 foot tall red hat that looks like a lampshade splashing water from a flat spoon over a crowd... now it is raining and we are looking at statues looking pensive, more people picking rice, more volcanoes, gods, back to rice again. Its in English but it really makes no sense. Now there'es credits.
I think i feel like my grandfather trying to follow the news. Well it is 1:16am and I have been cleaning grandfather dearest's house for 5 hours, cooking walking dogs keeping people happy feeding animals and people etc all day, came home and by 8pm I was cooking. I have made a beef, date and honey tagine and I have gotten half way through making these crazily difficult, horribly fatty but hell-crazy-amazing tasting authentic moroccan pastries.
I could be a drug addict if you had only read this post and didn't know me. My eyes are stinging but i haven't had much sleep lately. Not sure why but ever-so-pissed that my old arch nemesis insomnia has made one of its many returns.
And yes, it is my 21st birthday. whoopee doo. To be honest i'm not really that excited or care particularly where I once might have. Now I could not be bothered running, or for that matter asking people to do anything other than arrive at my house on a night they are not likely to be doing much (a monday), eat food I have paid for with my birthday money and slaved over for hours, wish me a happy birthday and go home.
soo much effort. Two reasons: 1 i like to cook and 2 I like the people I'm cooking for.
Its more a good excuse to cook and see people i like.
so, a couple of cooking hints from hayles:
1. do not pour burning hot deep fry oil down the sink i'm pretty sure its more powerful than drano
2. turn off all smoke alarms
3. do not bother with dinner because you have to taste the consistency etc of sooo much food that it eventually becomes a meal
4. avoid attempting anything which has more than one whisk, star, chefs hat or muffin marked next to it
5. avoid starting a dish which looks like it will take a little while at 11:00pm if you have a big day ahead
6. don't drink [more than 1/2 bottle of scotch] and cook
ahh the wisdom of a 21 year old. I am as wizened as a sage.
Call me Sagey. Or Sag for short.
But not saggy.
This movie on tv (sunday nite telly!!) makes possibly less sense than the doco on cows heads and rice dough... Its like die hard but without a sound track, in black and white, and instead of killers with beards, suits and guns its a kid in plaid oberalls and bruce willis is a prim police woman with a perm. and it smacks more of bad blocking and direction than suspense. ooh we have music; its a light string number that could have featured in the singin' in the rain 20minute montage. this is very very strange. I should get to bed but i don't know if I can face getting changed. and i feel sick from trying to get the consistency of orange flour water / sesame seed / almond meal dough right (eerrghh so sickenly rich).
should go to bed soon.
my ass is sore, my feet are sore. I am sore.
I don't want my birthday today - maybe some other time.\
adios chicos y chicas,
rest in peace but not in a funeral kind of way in a warm cosy bed with a cat kinda way
Hayles xoxox
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Monday, July 2, 2007
Sorry we have a correction to make
At the bottom of the following post, moderatelygoodlover68 should read
"averagelover-nottheworstiveeverhadbutcertainlynotthebest61"
Channel H News apologises for the error. Please refer all complaints to the official Channel H voodoo doll* - the truly satisfying customer service option.
*doll doesn't actually exist. Please refer all comments to the doll as listed above.
"averagelover-nottheworstiveeverhadbutcertainlynotthebest61"
Channel H News apologises for the error. Please refer all complaints to the official Channel H voodoo doll* - the truly satisfying customer service option.
*doll doesn't actually exist. Please refer all comments to the doll as listed above.
Calling all males
I was surfing the web and I got washed up on the rocks of the Brisbane suburb-by-suburb statistical data. AWESOME!
What it did reveal (although these stats are older than knock-knock jokes, vegemite and lamingtons) was that last count there was 3, 295 uni students in Toowong, 4, 495 people living below the poverty line and an extreme proportion (like 49%) of the population earns a ridiculous pay packet as professionals, managers, execs and I suppose a few divorced WAG types attending 30 yoga sessions per week in full makeup and 40 carat jewelry as a result of that 49% white collar pop.
what the above diagram also reveals is what I secretly suspected. In the inner west, there are more females aged 20 - 24 than any other population group - sitting at 5000. And the shitty part is, ladies, we are 500 men short.
This is all before we encounter a range of other man issues - already partnered, the 10% standard gay population, the no-hopers (general) and dungeons & dragons freaks (no-hopers specific), the medieval society /the world of warcraft casualties / body odour (and/or) hair (and/or) acne issue boys (all no-hopers specific) ?
Its official. There is a man drought.
I would say the deficit has been under-reported, ladies.
We are in a state of crisis not seen since the Great War! We must rise up, and advertise! The inner west is NOT an ecosystem ladies, and last i recall the female human does not eat the male after mating. Those who do are very inconsiderate and contributing to our woes.
In the words of a famously sacked political head-kicker,
ITS TIME.
Or we could try another campagin which was pretty effective in the war years - "BRING THEM HOME" - what do you think?
Anyway, my long vigil in front of crap tv is about to be rewarded by scrubs.
so i'll be seein ya...
just before I go, I think maybe i need to get Lucas to sew a star of david type patch onto his jacket that says 'off limits' so women downtown.
Is that a little OTT?
From Toowong with love,
Kitty-Kat aka hayles aka haze aka baby cat aka midnight aka moderatelygoodlover68
No Love
That is the theme of today's post. This is inspired by (a) Sally's song title (see http://ballysaxter.blogspot.com or whatever it is) but mostly inspired by (b) the lack of love I am receiving and (c) the "moment" Katrina and I had today.
I'm having a panic attack re: Lucas in horribly sexy location on horribly sexy skiing trip with ex girlfriend. I have had 1 out of 6 people who haven't considered it a distinct possibility he will fall to temptation in the sheep state. BAAAHHHH!!!!
I have no option but to trust him, but that does not stop me wringing my hands, esp considering last 48 hrs of activity. Do I go into that, or do i not?
eeeerrmm no. except to say that Rohan put his hand on my leg and asked me if I really thought he wouldn't try something before I removed his hand, told him he would not and drove myself home.
But: I could DRIVE home. and... Rohan is about the most loyal person I have ever met. and even he, under the right circumstances, would be tempted to cheat. so my faith in humanity is slipping.
I got NO LOVE! *80's rock music playing, electric drum beat etc*
[cue for soft-focus low lighting, woman lying in black high-waisted satin nightie on her bed singing at the telephone, with a big tousled blonde boofy bob haircut and red-red-red lipstick]
...Dah da da da da da da NO LOVE! NO ITS SKIING IN THE SHEEP STATE! ... NO LOVE, and i'm hoping i'm not too late! even worse, that his ex is LATE! dah da da da da da da
in another no love story...
Trins and I were bitching that nobody had messaged us on our respective phones ALL DAY. And just as we were getting in the car (following coffee at 3 monkeys) we both checked our phones. I looked up and said "no love..." She looked up and said "no love..." We turned on the radio. The very first thing it said was... wait for it... "this next song is called "no love!"
dude
anyway scott is talking non-stop but its not all that interesting tonight. I told him to shut up and keep juggling.
Goodnight ;-)
I'm having a panic attack re: Lucas in horribly sexy location on horribly sexy skiing trip with ex girlfriend. I have had 1 out of 6 people who haven't considered it a distinct possibility he will fall to temptation in the sheep state. BAAAHHHH!!!!
I have no option but to trust him, but that does not stop me wringing my hands, esp considering last 48 hrs of activity. Do I go into that, or do i not?
eeeerrmm no. except to say that Rohan put his hand on my leg and asked me if I really thought he wouldn't try something before I removed his hand, told him he would not and drove myself home.
But: I could DRIVE home. and... Rohan is about the most loyal person I have ever met. and even he, under the right circumstances, would be tempted to cheat. so my faith in humanity is slipping.
I got NO LOVE! *80's rock music playing, electric drum beat etc*
[cue for soft-focus low lighting, woman lying in black high-waisted satin nightie on her bed singing at the telephone, with a big tousled blonde boofy bob haircut and red-red-red lipstick]
...Dah da da da da da da NO LOVE! NO ITS SKIING IN THE SHEEP STATE! ... NO LOVE, and i'm hoping i'm not too late! even worse, that his ex is LATE! dah da da da da da da
in another no love story...
Trins and I were bitching that nobody had messaged us on our respective phones ALL DAY. And just as we were getting in the car (following coffee at 3 monkeys) we both checked our phones. I looked up and said "no love..." She looked up and said "no love..." We turned on the radio. The very first thing it said was... wait for it... "this next song is called "no love!"
dude
anyway scott is talking non-stop but its not all that interesting tonight. I told him to shut up and keep juggling.
Goodnight ;-)
Saturday, June 30, 2007
If this Keyboard could talk...
It would complain about how much abuse it has copped. It is bedecked with star stickers, a relic from my exam block "think i'm goin' a little bit nuts here" penchant for covering everything within reach (including Lucas) with little shiny stars. They are the same ones parents used to stick next to kids' names when they were good, or did the washing up, or - in our family - had another poisoning-free day. Gotta love them.
My keyboard would also complain about the absence of the shift key. The plastic bit that tells you its a shift key came off in some war I had with it.
it might also have a whinge about being pelted with juggling balls this morning, as I refused to move from my spot by the lappy to practise. But my keyboard is just acting like a weak little girl.. It's only ever suffered flesh wounds.
however I am glad my keyboard does not speak. It would mostly carp on about how I never write anything worthwhile with it, and just post random, meaningless twaddle on the net to clog up the internet-bloggish-drainage. Which, as you can see from the quality of this post, is So Not True!
Good little keyboard, you're so fine! I'm going to pelt you with juggling balls all the time!
Good little keyboard, you're a star! I'm going to throw you, oh-so-far!
*maraccas start playing*
[END COMMUNICATION]
My keyboard would also complain about the absence of the shift key. The plastic bit that tells you its a shift key came off in some war I had with it.
it might also have a whinge about being pelted with juggling balls this morning, as I refused to move from my spot by the lappy to practise. But my keyboard is just acting like a weak little girl.. It's only ever suffered flesh wounds.
however I am glad my keyboard does not speak. It would mostly carp on about how I never write anything worthwhile with it, and just post random, meaningless twaddle on the net to clog up the internet-bloggish-drainage. Which, as you can see from the quality of this post, is So Not True!
Good little keyboard, you're so fine! I'm going to pelt you with juggling balls all the time!
Good little keyboard, you're a star! I'm going to throw you, oh-so-far!
*maraccas start playing*
[END COMMUNICATION]
Friday, June 29, 2007
A warm up post (boring stuff out first, interesting later)
Wow! Believe it or not dear reader(s???), I have not been the victim of an unfortunate napalm accident. I have just been under a very heavy rock (the exam block rock) feeling sorry for myself. I'm feeling extra sorry for myself tonight because its the very last time I see Lucas before he goes skiing in new zealand with his ex gf. Yeah, I know.
He says I have nothing to worry about. I hope he's right. meanwhile, back in Hayley Land (population one) things are going a bit AWOL. Where did all these men come from?
Today Matt Doyle, and I do mean the same Matt Doyle who manipulated me, and I do mean the same Matt Doyle who came right out and asked me to engage in some 'late night unconscionable conduct' with him recently, pulled another one on me today and strongly suggested I cheat on Lucas. Because I'm young and we're supposed to do that'n'shit.
Wow. where does a conversation go after that one? He said it was better we meet in public places because he would try something if he got half a chance... this is ridiculous!!
Actually as mean as it sounds, I took the opportunity to ask why he needed these 'late night sessions' to be with me, and not with anyone else. I was taken, (VERY TAKEN) and he refused to find someone else to comply with his suggestion. Apparently we have a lot of fun together (true) and have a 'connection'...
so. I guess I can kiss that friendship goodbye. :( i mean as much of an asshole as he is, he is a fun asshole. I will miss the good old days.
Meanwhile, some random indian guy asked me out at the gym. I suspect its because i'm the least barbie-ish one there who doesn't look like I eat men for breakfast. Picture me more as a rabbit in the headlights than a girl at the gym, with my big white ears pointing up in surprise. EEEEEEEEEEE!!!! run away, run away!
*hayley runs away*
also, finally. (i'm sorry this is such an uninteresting email for everyone else but i don't feel flattered, I feel hounded and for all the wrong reasons)
Rohan. has a girlfriend. I told him I was seeing Lucas and I was really into him. He called me up last night, and I asked him what he was doing for our birthday (we were born on the same day) - he thought we were still going to melbourne together!
"Yes, lets go away for a dirty weekend, you with your girlfriend back home and me, hopelessly head over heels for another man. That sounds perfectly feasible."
So i can kiss that one goodbye as well. I can't help but feel as though my fidelity is being tested.
It doesn't need to be. I know what I want. Just don't know how to tell him that...
He says I have nothing to worry about. I hope he's right. meanwhile, back in Hayley Land (population one) things are going a bit AWOL. Where did all these men come from?
Today Matt Doyle, and I do mean the same Matt Doyle who manipulated me, and I do mean the same Matt Doyle who came right out and asked me to engage in some 'late night unconscionable conduct' with him recently, pulled another one on me today and strongly suggested I cheat on Lucas. Because I'm young and we're supposed to do that'n'shit.
Wow. where does a conversation go after that one? He said it was better we meet in public places because he would try something if he got half a chance... this is ridiculous!!
Actually as mean as it sounds, I took the opportunity to ask why he needed these 'late night sessions' to be with me, and not with anyone else. I was taken, (VERY TAKEN) and he refused to find someone else to comply with his suggestion. Apparently we have a lot of fun together (true) and have a 'connection'...
so. I guess I can kiss that friendship goodbye. :( i mean as much of an asshole as he is, he is a fun asshole. I will miss the good old days.
Meanwhile, some random indian guy asked me out at the gym. I suspect its because i'm the least barbie-ish one there who doesn't look like I eat men for breakfast. Picture me more as a rabbit in the headlights than a girl at the gym, with my big white ears pointing up in surprise. EEEEEEEEEEE!!!! run away, run away!
*hayley runs away*
also, finally. (i'm sorry this is such an uninteresting email for everyone else but i don't feel flattered, I feel hounded and for all the wrong reasons)
Rohan. has a girlfriend. I told him I was seeing Lucas and I was really into him. He called me up last night, and I asked him what he was doing for our birthday (we were born on the same day) - he thought we were still going to melbourne together!
"Yes, lets go away for a dirty weekend, you with your girlfriend back home and me, hopelessly head over heels for another man. That sounds perfectly feasible."
So i can kiss that one goodbye as well. I can't help but feel as though my fidelity is being tested.
It doesn't need to be. I know what I want. Just don't know how to tell him that...
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
long time no post
Hola amigos!
Finalmente, yo escribo!
for some reason i have not been able to log on lately so i haven't been able to write :(
Just a quick newsflash while I have two seconds (and that's really about all i have)
In the last couple of weeks I have:
crashed my car and had to get Lucas to fix it (tore off my bumper, he put it back on with tiny little computer modding tools - fine nosed pliers and so forth)
i have sunk to the level of eating canned soup for dinner.
and sometimes lunch...
and actually i eat it for breakfast frequently as well.
which means when i run out of that, it will be porridge thrice daily....
in other flaming good news, I am getting chiropractic - i know - que extrano (how strange) but apart from the frequent migranes, i have had an amazing amount of energy and clear-headedness lately. and i've been sleeping solidly as well. i think though, it may be in part due to the coQ10 which i'm ripping off coles who've wrongly registered an expensive supplement for $2 per shot. which gives you an insane amount of energy apparently...
there was something else i was going to say but Scott has come home and as usual i have lost my train of thought lisenting to his newsflashes...
today though there was a hell of a newsflash, in that scott is going for an interview for a new job tomorrow. This morning he had a solid, stable job. This afternoon he could be moving to a totally new job...
anyway
i better get to cleaning this s dash dash dash hole up as Lucas is coming over soon. also, it will be funny this weekend because he is coming in as a patient for the first time since we've started dating, and we have to act like nothing has happened. hmmm. furhtermore, until i rescheduled it, my mum and lucas were coming in to the practice at roughly the same time.
CLOSE CALL
i think a chiropractor's - especially where I work and when i'm working - is not my ideal time/location for a meeting of the mother figure - boyfriend figure (ooh I called him my boyfriend - too early? at the risk of jinxing myself, i will leave that there)
shiver me timbers I will have to go in a second
but before I do, 7 random things (because i have left it a while)
1. I have stripped almost completely bare in toowong village carpark
2. I was once the proud owner of a lesbian's donated bra which I wore frequently and with pride
3. I was nearly sponsored by a female guitar company
4. my first boyfriend liked to wear my private girls' school uniform
5. My op score was a 2
6. I ate raw scallops when I was out on the boat
7. I once mailed my freshly worn underwear.
oh i have so many more now
like my father once tried to get me to pretend i was his girlfriend and i got so mad i started yelling and screaming in an extremely exclusive restaurant
or that I have once had to wash rotting shark guts out of clothing, and it is by far the very worst smell I have ever smelt
or that I have once had a green snake in the house alone with me and the cat which resulted in a channel nine prime time article, several adds and a weekiend channel nine special. i even had my very own stalker, known only as 'Chad'
or that I have been an accomplice in adultery in the snowfields before and it was easily one of hte most forbidden and sexy things ever
or that I once dragged a random i had met all of once home with me on the gc-brisbane train and we made love for hours at my place. and then the boy wouldn't stop calling me. Men!
Actually I'm thinking my debauched libertine history might be safer in my hands only.
I am a sweet little girl, squeaky clean and conservative as a judge.....
Hugs and Kisses
H-bomb
Finalmente, yo escribo!
for some reason i have not been able to log on lately so i haven't been able to write :(
Just a quick newsflash while I have two seconds (and that's really about all i have)
In the last couple of weeks I have:
crashed my car and had to get Lucas to fix it (tore off my bumper, he put it back on with tiny little computer modding tools - fine nosed pliers and so forth)
i have sunk to the level of eating canned soup for dinner.
and sometimes lunch...
and actually i eat it for breakfast frequently as well.
which means when i run out of that, it will be porridge thrice daily....
in other flaming good news, I am getting chiropractic - i know - que extrano (how strange) but apart from the frequent migranes, i have had an amazing amount of energy and clear-headedness lately. and i've been sleeping solidly as well. i think though, it may be in part due to the coQ10 which i'm ripping off coles who've wrongly registered an expensive supplement for $2 per shot. which gives you an insane amount of energy apparently...
there was something else i was going to say but Scott has come home and as usual i have lost my train of thought lisenting to his newsflashes...
today though there was a hell of a newsflash, in that scott is going for an interview for a new job tomorrow. This morning he had a solid, stable job. This afternoon he could be moving to a totally new job...
anyway
i better get to cleaning this s dash dash dash hole up as Lucas is coming over soon. also, it will be funny this weekend because he is coming in as a patient for the first time since we've started dating, and we have to act like nothing has happened. hmmm. furhtermore, until i rescheduled it, my mum and lucas were coming in to the practice at roughly the same time.
CLOSE CALL
i think a chiropractor's - especially where I work and when i'm working - is not my ideal time/location for a meeting of the mother figure - boyfriend figure (ooh I called him my boyfriend - too early? at the risk of jinxing myself, i will leave that there)
shiver me timbers I will have to go in a second
but before I do, 7 random things (because i have left it a while)
1. I have stripped almost completely bare in toowong village carpark
2. I was once the proud owner of a lesbian's donated bra which I wore frequently and with pride
3. I was nearly sponsored by a female guitar company
4. my first boyfriend liked to wear my private girls' school uniform
5. My op score was a 2
6. I ate raw scallops when I was out on the boat
7. I once mailed my freshly worn underwear.
oh i have so many more now
like my father once tried to get me to pretend i was his girlfriend and i got so mad i started yelling and screaming in an extremely exclusive restaurant
or that I have once had to wash rotting shark guts out of clothing, and it is by far the very worst smell I have ever smelt
or that I have once had a green snake in the house alone with me and the cat which resulted in a channel nine prime time article, several adds and a weekiend channel nine special. i even had my very own stalker, known only as 'Chad'
or that I have been an accomplice in adultery in the snowfields before and it was easily one of hte most forbidden and sexy things ever
or that I once dragged a random i had met all of once home with me on the gc-brisbane train and we made love for hours at my place. and then the boy wouldn't stop calling me. Men!
Actually I'm thinking my debauched libertine history might be safer in my hands only.
I am a sweet little girl, squeaky clean and conservative as a judge.....
Hugs and Kisses
H-bomb
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
My thoughts are chickens II
Oooh guess what I bought the other day? A WHITEBOARD. mwa ha ha ha ha!!
I love it. I can tell Scott that he smells anytime I want to, I can... tell him other useful stuff I suppose. But first and foremost I enjoy using it to be a silly bugger.
I am sooooooooo tired this morning. I'm more or less just here because i haven't posted for ages and my dearest sister asked how Lucas was going.
Lucas is excellente. What more could I want?
- coeliac
- guitarist
- useful for fixing computer-related things
- likes good music too (including Steve Vai, Sal - I thought you'd be impressed)
of course you know what little good it is to look good on paper. Lucas looks good at any angle, in any light :) he is like a less perfect vision of myself (again, kidding).
Ok at this point I have to stop. My jokes are astoundingly bad this morning, and my prose is... well prosaic and just Not That Witty. Lets face facts. L is awesome but you'll have to see that for yourself. Meanwhile, I look like a painfully pubescent schoolgirl pining over brad pitt.
In other breaking news: max is a loser - AND SHOULD HAVE lost his licence on the weekend after he drove down to logan on a full stomach of half a carton of beer. however he got the cops to feel sorry for him so now he's just on good behaviour with a fine and one point left.
dickhead.
When i have a moment, too, remind me to tell you about the Greek tragedy that was Skye (a cth carer for my grandfather) and her visit on saturday. god those carers are total loonies. ARGH!
anywhoo go the broncos, and all that sort of thing
kisses!
H-Bomb xxxx
I love it. I can tell Scott that he smells anytime I want to, I can... tell him other useful stuff I suppose. But first and foremost I enjoy using it to be a silly bugger.
I am sooooooooo tired this morning. I'm more or less just here because i haven't posted for ages and my dearest sister asked how Lucas was going.
Lucas is excellente. What more could I want?
- coeliac
- guitarist
- useful for fixing computer-related things
- likes good music too (including Steve Vai, Sal - I thought you'd be impressed)
of course you know what little good it is to look good on paper. Lucas looks good at any angle, in any light :) he is like a less perfect vision of myself (again, kidding).
Ok at this point I have to stop. My jokes are astoundingly bad this morning, and my prose is... well prosaic and just Not That Witty. Lets face facts. L is awesome but you'll have to see that for yourself. Meanwhile, I look like a painfully pubescent schoolgirl pining over brad pitt.
In other breaking news: max is a loser - AND SHOULD HAVE lost his licence on the weekend after he drove down to logan on a full stomach of half a carton of beer. however he got the cops to feel sorry for him so now he's just on good behaviour with a fine and one point left.
dickhead.
When i have a moment, too, remind me to tell you about the Greek tragedy that was Skye (a cth carer for my grandfather) and her visit on saturday. god those carers are total loonies. ARGH!
anywhoo go the broncos, and all that sort of thing
kisses!
H-Bomb xxxx
Friday, May 18, 2007
If I Nail it down...
I cannot believe this. i have to produce payslips and rental docs to centrelink who have suspended my payments on account of they sent me a letter of verification two months ago to my old address despite me updating that address within two days of my moving to miskin street, to which i didn't reply. and now i have no money to pay rent. isn't this just f*****g fantastic? I AM SCREWED. MAJORLY GODDAMN SCREWED.
AND ITS NOT EVEN MY FAULT AND THEY ACKNOWLEDGED THAT I AM SO SO SO SO SO ANGRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
what the f*** am i going to do if they don't give me my payments back? this is CRUCIAL!!!
mood: hopelessness
next immediate activity: work at doyle's
morale: very very very low.
i guess i should try not to think about it but i can't help feeling just so lost and lonely. i have been through enough this week without this bullshit. enough bullshit.
:(
AND ITS NOT EVEN MY FAULT AND THEY ACKNOWLEDGED THAT I AM SO SO SO SO SO ANGRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
what the f*** am i going to do if they don't give me my payments back? this is CRUCIAL!!!
mood: hopelessness
next immediate activity: work at doyle's
morale: very very very low.
i guess i should try not to think about it but i can't help feeling just so lost and lonely. i have been through enough this week without this bullshit. enough bullshit.
:(
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
I cannot believe my frustration. I have spent the last 72 most excruciating hours of my life writing the most dull, pompous and difficult pile of rubbish I have produced since about grade 11, rushed into uni, paid for the most expensive parking spot on campus and received, just moments after its submission, an email granting THE WHOLE GRADE AN EXTENSION UNTIL NEXT TUESDAY - an extension I could really REALLY have used. Now I am behind in just about all of my classes, my legs are unshaven, I haven't brushed my teeth today, my hair is revolting and limp, I am wearing my '**** off, I'm having a bad day' jeans, I haven't slept in waaayyy too long and ...
oh I give up.
I'm going to bed. and i'm going to find a teapot for that new hat of mine...
p.s. get to see L tonight. He gets to see me in all my rubbishy faux-intellectual glory. Yerkh!
adios
p.s. raph is standing behind me and he looks almost as bad as i do. i don't feel so ashamed.
oh I give up.
I'm going to bed. and i'm going to find a teapot for that new hat of mine...
p.s. get to see L tonight. He gets to see me in all my rubbishy faux-intellectual glory. Yerkh!
adios
p.s. raph is standing behind me and he looks almost as bad as i do. i don't feel so ashamed.
Monday, May 14, 2007
When you can't write prose...
Too much to handle,
So tired, so intense, eyes strain
to watch where I steer.
Blank head, blank verse, blank
thoughts, bland words, so intense I
love and hate it all.
caffeine, guarana
ginseng, travel sickness pills,
acai, nurofen.
L is for life force,
U is for unbearable,
D is for dickhead
(Lucas, University, Doyle)
G is for grating,
M is for incompetence,
H is for damn tired!
Haikus are so neat,
they make scrambled thoughts into
profound documents.
So tired, so intense, eyes strain
to watch where I steer.
Blank head, blank verse, blank
thoughts, bland words, so intense I
love and hate it all.
caffeine, guarana
ginseng, travel sickness pills,
acai, nurofen.
L is for life force,
U is for unbearable,
D is for dickhead
(Lucas, University, Doyle)
G is for grating,
M is for incompetence,
H is for damn tired!
Haikus are so neat,
they make scrambled thoughts into
profound documents.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Lets try this again
Last time I tried this post, I wrote exactly 2020 words of brilliant prose, only for my entire computer to collapse on me.
So... in my disheartened, dishevelled state, it is probably wiser, faster, easier (etc etc) to give you, my dear readership (all three of you - Sal, Moog* and Alf*) a birdy's eye view of events
Friday 27th April I was in a bit of a state about my not-done, not-at-all-understood and very-big-and-intimidating constitutional law assignment (in chief, s 122 of the Constitution was bothering me). at the same time, as happens almost on clockwork every Friday night, 'M' calls or sms's me and chastises me for constantly bailing on dates (not a date, but an informal meeting of friends). anyway, 'M' also happens to be a throbbing mass of brain cells, better, of law-related brain cells, and this particular friday night, offered to use some of those brain cells helping me understand my assignment.
I, feeling a little guilty about my constant rain checks, needing the help of his assignment, and always being a 'maximiser'** of opportunities, decided two birds could be killed with one stone.
He tipped the scales further by adding urgency to the situation: he was to leave the following Wednesday for Canberra for 5 months.
I got out of bed and drove in to town to pick him up. He had already dulled the revered brain cells with a good dose of imported beer, and was not really in much of a mood to help me with my assignment after all.
Nevertheless, we flew back to Newfarm where he flipped through my case and made a couple of notes. the basic shakedown was he couldn't do anything for me that night, but he had a case, an on-point essay and a few journal articles in his office in the city that would enlighten me on the case.
"Great," said I, "so I'll meet you in the city tomorrow afternoon then and we'll sort it out?"
"Yeah, but you're not going now, are you?" by this stage I was gathering up my belonging and zipping up my sweater. "Well, yes, 'M', I do start work tomorrow at 7:30"
"So that's it, then? I'm a tutor to you and that's all?"
"No of course not, don't be stupid. But you're clearly drunk, I'm tired, and there's not much we can do tonight. Look, though, I see your point. Are you free any time after tonight before you leave so we can do something?
"No, I'm busy [reels of a list of Very Important Things To Do]. Tonight is it"
Dude on a different note, my computer has started to reverse all the home/end/pge up/pge down/arrow keys so they are all inverse and when i hit enter weird stuff happens. Sigh.
As usual, I am going to have to leave the post for 'yet another time'. Lets just say M tried to bargain for an exchange with me which has marred our friendship for good, but that after "admitting" that we had something "special" he was found the next wednesday night. - yes, the night after he was due to leave for Canberra for forever, he ran into L and myself at the 3monkeys, toting his other woman who he will surely claim is his accountant or something but I know her already to be ... drumroll please... his best friend's ex! Isn't that fantastic? And to think this guy will probably be a high court judge one day. If he is, I will see how much money I can squeeze out of the woman's weekly to spill the beans and ruin his career. does that sound low? Probably about ground zero, maybe sub-zero. I mean he did actually provide some useful information which really shaped my conception of s 122 of the constitution. It came at a price, and he showed himself to be even more fabulously slimy than I already thought him to be..- and on that note, I will adjourn because this weird screwed up text is horribly frustrating and i'll provide you with more news and information in the next 24 hours
hasta proxima amigos
xxxx...
*persons may not actually exist
**new scientist, june ed. 2007 "making better decisions"
So... in my disheartened, dishevelled state, it is probably wiser, faster, easier (etc etc) to give you, my dear readership (all three of you - Sal, Moog* and Alf*) a birdy's eye view of events
Friday 27th April I was in a bit of a state about my not-done, not-at-all-understood and very-big-and-intimidating constitutional law assignment (in chief, s 122 of the Constitution was bothering me). at the same time, as happens almost on clockwork every Friday night, 'M' calls or sms's me and chastises me for constantly bailing on dates (not a date, but an informal meeting of friends). anyway, 'M' also happens to be a throbbing mass of brain cells, better, of law-related brain cells, and this particular friday night, offered to use some of those brain cells helping me understand my assignment.
I, feeling a little guilty about my constant rain checks, needing the help of his assignment, and always being a 'maximiser'** of opportunities, decided two birds could be killed with one stone.
He tipped the scales further by adding urgency to the situation: he was to leave the following Wednesday for Canberra for 5 months.
I got out of bed and drove in to town to pick him up. He had already dulled the revered brain cells with a good dose of imported beer, and was not really in much of a mood to help me with my assignment after all.
Nevertheless, we flew back to Newfarm where he flipped through my case and made a couple of notes. the basic shakedown was he couldn't do anything for me that night, but he had a case, an on-point essay and a few journal articles in his office in the city that would enlighten me on the case.
"Great," said I, "so I'll meet you in the city tomorrow afternoon then and we'll sort it out?"
"Yeah, but you're not going now, are you?" by this stage I was gathering up my belonging and zipping up my sweater. "Well, yes, 'M', I do start work tomorrow at 7:30"
"So that's it, then? I'm a tutor to you and that's all?"
"No of course not, don't be stupid. But you're clearly drunk, I'm tired, and there's not much we can do tonight. Look, though, I see your point. Are you free any time after tonight before you leave so we can do something?
"No, I'm busy [reels of a list of Very Important Things To Do]. Tonight is it"
Dude on a different note, my computer has started to reverse all the home/end/pge up/pge down/arrow keys so they are all inverse and when i hit enter weird stuff happens. Sigh.
As usual, I am going to have to leave the post for 'yet another time'. Lets just say M tried to bargain for an exchange with me which has marred our friendship for good, but that after "admitting" that we had something "special" he was found the next wednesday night. - yes, the night after he was due to leave for Canberra for forever, he ran into L and myself at the 3monkeys, toting his other woman who he will surely claim is his accountant or something but I know her already to be ... drumroll please... his best friend's ex! Isn't that fantastic? And to think this guy will probably be a high court judge one day. If he is, I will see how much money I can squeeze out of the woman's weekly to spill the beans and ruin his career. does that sound low? Probably about ground zero, maybe sub-zero. I mean he did actually provide some useful information which really shaped my conception of s 122 of the constitution. It came at a price, and he showed himself to be even more fabulously slimy than I already thought him to be..- and on that note, I will adjourn because this weird screwed up text is horribly frustrating and i'll provide you with more news and information in the next 24 hours
hasta proxima amigos
xxxx...
*persons may not actually exist
**new scientist, june ed. 2007 "making better decisions"
Friday, April 27, 2007
Compliments of Scott
http://csrp.com.au/database/th/mapt/ptt_co2_dryice.html
this is how dry ice is made. Scott was right, and I think he would appreciate it if I shouted it from the roof tops a little more often. He does, after all, admit it when I am right.
or....
I could admit it a few times in advance in deposit and not admit wrongness for a while.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
i'm hoping this shold last a while
And now, futurama.
'Night
this is how dry ice is made. Scott was right, and I think he would appreciate it if I shouted it from the roof tops a little more often. He does, after all, admit it when I am right.
or....
I could admit it a few times in advance in deposit and not admit wrongness for a while.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
Scott is right.
i'm hoping this shold last a while
And now, futurama.
'Night
The War Is On
Dear reader[s],
My psychopathic chiropractor (see weblink on panel, right) has outdone himself.
I left on time (if not a little early) today, realised I had forgotten my cds and had to go back and get them. And there he was, my seat not yet cold, helping himself to my food. Food which i had specially labelled 'Janelle, these are for you - Hayley'. He looked up in the middle of a mouthful and said 'these aren't yours are they?' with the post it note still attached to the lid!
I am super annoyed, but just say, 'well, yes they are sort of mine' and leave.
Caught in the act, I was under the impression he would stop there. But no, he went and ate all but exactly 12 almonds (out of a tupperware container filled with almonds). No apology, nothing. If anything he was more of a prick that afternoon than usual, asking me to do unusual, yukky jobs. Cruel and unusual torture was how i used to punish people when I was a crew trainer back in the DARK AGES at maccas. What's he punishing me for? Catching him? #*EXTREME AGITATION*#.
If he chooses to steal my food, I will choose to serve him the foulest, bitterest decaf I can find. AND my housemates [bar max] will reap the benefits of an extra couple of complimentary packaged arnotts biscuits in asshole tax. In essence: The War Is On.
This is different from his usual method of being annoying. I admit I'm not perfect and I sometimes make irritating mistakes. I apologise to the gods of karma* for this. However, I do not appreciate being subjected to the intimidation technique that was practised on me so much during my time in the gulf [read: prawn trawler skipper BIG Al]. This type of technique is where your duties are spelled out to you, but when the intimidator feels like pissing you off he will ask you why you haven't done a duty which was not explicitly expected of you as per the beginning. Then you will get in trouble for not doing a job which you weren't expected to do - for the record, protesting that you a) weren't aware it was part of your duties b) suggesting it may not be included in your list of duties (a very unwise suggestion) or c) [other - I'm sure Scott could think of something] will not help your case. It will worsen it.
So you not only get an expanded list of duties, you get in trouble for being slack rather than being asked nicely to do it etc.
Its a fantastic way to bring bad feeling and breed hatred.
Maybe its just me who thinks this, but if a boss had any interest in keeping his employees/wanting them to be effective/not wishing to have their stationery nicked/not wishing to be undermined in some other way, should aim to keep a congenial relationship (or at least not go out of their way to make a negative one) with their employees.
Well, I'm slightly less frustrated... but this post will probably not make sense in retrospect due to my usual multi-tasking of blog post + scott monologue-keeping-up-ness.
FINALLY:
Scott's 'thoughts for the day':
- the workings of 'cloud seeding'
- how when we run out of water we will need to flush out the dirty pipes
- how rust can stain grass
- how a zero-G plane works
- 1 x debate on the title of Steve Hawking's seminal work
- how dry ice is made
- why our showerhead is so good and so environmentally bad
- how very awesome the fishtank in toowong shopping centre is
It all seems random until you take into account what Scott is watching
TV stimulus for Friday, 27th April 2007 - ABC, the 7:30 report where *amazingly* there happens to be an environment conservation special...
Life goes on in its wonderful, turbulent, bizarre, horrible, beautiful, awkward, breathless, euphoric, over-tired and chaotic ways.
Goodnight,
and sleep well
*interesting statement if ever there was one... esp considering usually those who believe in gods don't usually believe in karma and v-versa... will leave for now**
**mental note to self to consider editing later
My psychopathic chiropractor (see weblink on panel, right) has outdone himself.
I left on time (if not a little early) today, realised I had forgotten my cds and had to go back and get them. And there he was, my seat not yet cold, helping himself to my food. Food which i had specially labelled 'Janelle, these are for you - Hayley'. He looked up in the middle of a mouthful and said 'these aren't yours are they?' with the post it note still attached to the lid!
I am super annoyed, but just say, 'well, yes they are sort of mine' and leave.
Caught in the act, I was under the impression he would stop there. But no, he went and ate all but exactly 12 almonds (out of a tupperware container filled with almonds). No apology, nothing. If anything he was more of a prick that afternoon than usual, asking me to do unusual, yukky jobs. Cruel and unusual torture was how i used to punish people when I was a crew trainer back in the DARK AGES at maccas. What's he punishing me for? Catching him? #*EXTREME AGITATION*#.
If he chooses to steal my food, I will choose to serve him the foulest, bitterest decaf I can find. AND my housemates [bar max] will reap the benefits of an extra couple of complimentary packaged arnotts biscuits in asshole tax. In essence: The War Is On.
This is different from his usual method of being annoying. I admit I'm not perfect and I sometimes make irritating mistakes. I apologise to the gods of karma* for this. However, I do not appreciate being subjected to the intimidation technique that was practised on me so much during my time in the gulf [read: prawn trawler skipper BIG Al]. This type of technique is where your duties are spelled out to you, but when the intimidator feels like pissing you off he will ask you why you haven't done a duty which was not explicitly expected of you as per the beginning. Then you will get in trouble for not doing a job which you weren't expected to do - for the record, protesting that you a) weren't aware it was part of your duties b) suggesting it may not be included in your list of duties (a very unwise suggestion) or c) [other - I'm sure Scott could think of something] will not help your case. It will worsen it.
So you not only get an expanded list of duties, you get in trouble for being slack rather than being asked nicely to do it etc.
Its a fantastic way to bring bad feeling and breed hatred.
Maybe its just me who thinks this, but if a boss had any interest in keeping his employees/wanting them to be effective/not wishing to have their stationery nicked/not wishing to be undermined in some other way, should aim to keep a congenial relationship (or at least not go out of their way to make a negative one) with their employees.
Well, I'm slightly less frustrated... but this post will probably not make sense in retrospect due to my usual multi-tasking of blog post + scott monologue-keeping-up-ness.
FINALLY:
Scott's 'thoughts for the day':
- the workings of 'cloud seeding'
- how when we run out of water we will need to flush out the dirty pipes
- how rust can stain grass
- how a zero-G plane works
- 1 x debate on the title of Steve Hawking's seminal work
- how dry ice is made
- why our showerhead is so good and so environmentally bad
- how very awesome the fishtank in toowong shopping centre is
It all seems random until you take into account what Scott is watching
TV stimulus for Friday, 27th April 2007 - ABC, the 7:30 report where *amazingly* there happens to be an environment conservation special...
Life goes on in its wonderful, turbulent, bizarre, horrible, beautiful, awkward, breathless, euphoric, over-tired and chaotic ways.
Goodnight,
and sleep well
*interesting statement if ever there was one... esp considering usually those who believe in gods don't usually believe in karma and v-versa... will leave for now**
**mental note to self to consider editing later
Monday, April 23, 2007
Why coherent thought is like a chicken
The colour pic is what I would look like if i got some sleep. Unfortunately, I resemble the one on the left, in all its greyness. Oh man. Jared is getting married. Poor girl, poor, poor girl. I remember, back in the day (Kingscliff - my salad days) Jared used to be the freaky dude who used to follow me around, claiming that our closely matched birthdays meant we were soul mates (I'm july 9, he's july 10). Anyone who has known me long enough will have heard my Jared rant. I'll spare you just this once. and only because i'm soooo tired but can't sleep.
In that half awake half asleep state they call insomnia. Reminds me of fight club, which, by the way, if you haven't seen you should see and if you've seen it as many times as i have you should freeze the final scene frame by frame (for roughly the last minute) which will shock, disturb and thoroughly amuse you.
This would be about the most incoherent blog I have posted yet. Maybe I should save precious -e-space for when I have found my marbles and gathered them up off the floor. Then, maybe (just a maybe, folks) I could explain to you the reason why i marked bunny's death knell with such a title as 'the house of usher'. its a good title, and given with good reason.
At times like these, I feel like a batty old eastern European woman, somebody's grandmother, who accidentally didn't close the chook shed properly and now all the chickens have escaped and she has to gather them all up again and put them back in the shed before her hot-tempered daughter comes home and threatens to lock her up in whatever they have instead of nursing homes in eastern europe. And I'm ancient and too slow to move very fast, and my poor old heart nearly gives out. And I get to wear gypsy scarves and petticoats and big gold earrings.
That is a nice little metaphor for how i feel about my mental capacity. The chickens represent coherent thought, my fatigue is the idiot who let them out of the chook shed, which represents my brain. That panicked little voice in my head is the volition of the old woman trying to gather up my senses and at least pretend to be compus mentus. And the fiery daughter represents the people I am trying to hide my total incompetence from. The rest of the imagery is just artistic ornamentation to facilitate the metaphor. Incidentally, I don't have a heart problem, but I do harbour a secret desire to wear a gypsy scarf and petticoats.
At this point i'm actually starting to scare myself. I think I'll call it a night
Sunday, April 22, 2007
The House of Usher
If you're not in the mood to be depressed, I suggest you find another blog to read.
Last Thursday was a black day for the Baxters. It marked (my grandmother) Bunny's funeral. The day was dark as hell, but all the same I wouldn't be a Baxter if i didn't make some irreverent remark.
So this is where I purge my irreverence and go back to being a good girl.
THURSDAY'S THOUGHTS:
In the last weeks of my grandmother's life, she bloated up from the twig-like figure we knew her as to massive proportions, and changed into this one-toothed stranger with jowls spreading halfway over her shoulders, as purple and black as a severe burns victim, as squishy and bloated as... well a corpse really. Her eyes were glued shut with mucus, she quivered, wore no clothes as she kept losing fluid through her skin, and her mouth was gummy with what looked like glow-in-the-dark putty. It wasn't the woman i knew at all. It was one of the most confronting moments of my life, actually. When Thursday came, however, she was laid out in a white and gold coffin covered in lillies. Mum played a slide show of all the pictures of Bunny when she was young and beautiful (she WAS gorgeous). Afterwards, though, many people would come up to me and tell me what a beautiful woman she was (physically. for the rest of Bunny is a story I shall get to momentarily); people who never saw her in the icu ward looking like a tortured science experiment hooked up to a thousand tubes and plastic bags.
I couldn't help but think two things: (1) how could they fit all of her and her spilling jowls into that tiny little coffin (i mean it was REALLY small) and (2) how ugly she must look in there. I don't think Bunny would look peaceful in death. I think she would look like the thousand cigarettes she smoked and drugs she took, a heavy exhausted mass of flesh who never fought for anything until it was far too late.
Another thing. I was so depressed when they buried my grandmother. Not depressed she was gone. I didn't feel that until about 12:30 today when i asked for my first ever extension on an assignment and the lecturer asked me if I was alright.
No, I was depressed because they buried her out in a place called Pinaroo park, under a tiny little square of cement next to an empty vb can. Pinaroo is nothing but a windbeaten paddock of red dirt out in the barren wastelands called the northern suburbs. my grandmother is condemned to be buried in a place called limbo, to be forgotten forever. at the wishes of my grandfather, who would not bear to countenance such a horrid thing as a cremation.
bunny, you may have wasted nearly your whole life, but even for that you shouldn't be abandoned to Pinaroo.
I want everyone to know - and this can be my official record if needs be - I am going to have a viking funeral. I want to be cremated, firstly, and then for my service, I want everyone who wants to take some of my ashes to do so, so they might spread them around the world for me (because I don't have a home and dont wish to have a final resting place). whatever is left over, I want it to be put into a small boat, along with little mementos and reminders of me that people might have (rings, photos, cards, letters and so forth). Then, hold a beach service, launch my little boat out into the ocean - i forgot to mention, you need to douse it in petrol first - then light it on fire with a burning arrow and burn every last piece of me.
And instead of money for coffins/gravesites/celebrants and so forth, I want everyone to spend the money having a huge party.
No final resting place, no reverence. I don't need a piece of red dirt in the middle of nowhere to be remembered by.
Another dark remark on the day. My grandfather (who has advanced alzheimer's and couldn't remember we were burying his wife) was given a trowell of sand to pour over her coffin as they lowered it into the grave. When he finally understood what was going on, he tried to stand on the raised piece of astro turf trimming the site so we didn' have to see the bare earth. However, it being the edge, it started to give way and he nearly fell in after her. It was too late before my mum managed to stop herself saying 'are you that eager to join her, dad?'
I was about to cry and nearly burst into fits of laughter. how horrible of me.
The same day, I discovered that our old dog has prostate cancer. I was wondering why his balls were so huge. he's not a big dog either; a terrier crossed with a corgie (our old corgie used to live next door to the neighborhood tart, a yappy dog called Alice --> not long after, we got stuck with this mongrel who proceeded to poo and chew his way through our entire yard and shoe collection until my grandfather rescued him from his final journey to the pound). It sounds bad, but one of the biggest problems I have with this is not that he has cancer and will die soon. Its that he farts all the time now, and usually in confined spaces like cars or under a table where we are eating. They smell like dead animal. Poor little thing, I'm so heartless. I guess it doesn't help that he's just not a likeable dog. All the same, I think I'm going to go through a similar post-humous phase with him as I am with Bunny (albeit to a MUCH lesser extent. I don't mean to include the dog and my grandmother in the same category of mourning, just that they never really received much sympathy from me, even in their harder times).
One final thing before I go. I can't get over how my Mum wrote the eulogy. I cried for the first time on saturday for Bunny's own sake, but even then, I couldn't help but blame her for wasting her whole life pretending to be sick. My mother wrote a eulogy which made her look like a loving mother and a go-getting writer. Everyone at the funeral wanted to tell me about what a good person she was, and what a wonderful relationship she had with her son and daughter. It just felt awful because it was so false, and yet I was powerless to stop it. I have spent many a bbq on the back deck at my auntie and uncle's place, listening to my Mum and her brother compete with each other for the worst 'mum story'. She treated them appallingly. She was selfish, rude, embarrassed them in front of their friends (not in the usual way - for example, being stoned out of her eyeballs on valium in front of their friends, lying on their laps and asking them to brush her hair), manipulative, emotionally abusive etc etc. some of those stories were just about 'a current affair' worthy. None of our immediate family would suffer her egocentricity, her million ailments and constant whinging. All she wanted all her life was to be spoon-fed. The world owed her a living. she spent 40+ years lying in bed waiting for it. She didn't get a job, she didn't raise her children, she never cleaned the house or lifted a finger for anyone. How? How can someone waste away a life like that? How can somebody WANT to be dependent? Want to be taken care of?
She scarred many people and never knew how to love selflessly.
When I say mum wrote the eulogy, I mean she wrote the first draft. Nowhere but here will I admit that I helped her write a lot of it. It felt weird, listening to our words being spoken there at the funeral. People cried and were teary during it, but the weirdest thing is that those compelling words were written by the two people who were still the most unforgiving of her. The two people who, even in death, could see most clearly that, even though it is sad she died and tragic that she suffered so much in the last weeks of her life, she was still the woman she had always been; we still saw her as the mother who didn't care for her children, the woman who went to bed one morning and didn't bother to get up for 40 years.
Last Thursday was a black day for the Baxters. It marked (my grandmother) Bunny's funeral. The day was dark as hell, but all the same I wouldn't be a Baxter if i didn't make some irreverent remark.
So this is where I purge my irreverence and go back to being a good girl.
THURSDAY'S THOUGHTS:
In the last weeks of my grandmother's life, she bloated up from the twig-like figure we knew her as to massive proportions, and changed into this one-toothed stranger with jowls spreading halfway over her shoulders, as purple and black as a severe burns victim, as squishy and bloated as... well a corpse really. Her eyes were glued shut with mucus, she quivered, wore no clothes as she kept losing fluid through her skin, and her mouth was gummy with what looked like glow-in-the-dark putty. It wasn't the woman i knew at all. It was one of the most confronting moments of my life, actually. When Thursday came, however, she was laid out in a white and gold coffin covered in lillies. Mum played a slide show of all the pictures of Bunny when she was young and beautiful (she WAS gorgeous). Afterwards, though, many people would come up to me and tell me what a beautiful woman she was (physically. for the rest of Bunny is a story I shall get to momentarily); people who never saw her in the icu ward looking like a tortured science experiment hooked up to a thousand tubes and plastic bags.
I couldn't help but think two things: (1) how could they fit all of her and her spilling jowls into that tiny little coffin (i mean it was REALLY small) and (2) how ugly she must look in there. I don't think Bunny would look peaceful in death. I think she would look like the thousand cigarettes she smoked and drugs she took, a heavy exhausted mass of flesh who never fought for anything until it was far too late.
Another thing. I was so depressed when they buried my grandmother. Not depressed she was gone. I didn't feel that until about 12:30 today when i asked for my first ever extension on an assignment and the lecturer asked me if I was alright.
No, I was depressed because they buried her out in a place called Pinaroo park, under a tiny little square of cement next to an empty vb can. Pinaroo is nothing but a windbeaten paddock of red dirt out in the barren wastelands called the northern suburbs. my grandmother is condemned to be buried in a place called limbo, to be forgotten forever. at the wishes of my grandfather, who would not bear to countenance such a horrid thing as a cremation.
bunny, you may have wasted nearly your whole life, but even for that you shouldn't be abandoned to Pinaroo.
I want everyone to know - and this can be my official record if needs be - I am going to have a viking funeral. I want to be cremated, firstly, and then for my service, I want everyone who wants to take some of my ashes to do so, so they might spread them around the world for me (because I don't have a home and dont wish to have a final resting place). whatever is left over, I want it to be put into a small boat, along with little mementos and reminders of me that people might have (rings, photos, cards, letters and so forth). Then, hold a beach service, launch my little boat out into the ocean - i forgot to mention, you need to douse it in petrol first - then light it on fire with a burning arrow and burn every last piece of me.
And instead of money for coffins/gravesites/celebrants and so forth, I want everyone to spend the money having a huge party.
No final resting place, no reverence. I don't need a piece of red dirt in the middle of nowhere to be remembered by.
Another dark remark on the day. My grandfather (who has advanced alzheimer's and couldn't remember we were burying his wife) was given a trowell of sand to pour over her coffin as they lowered it into the grave. When he finally understood what was going on, he tried to stand on the raised piece of astro turf trimming the site so we didn' have to see the bare earth. However, it being the edge, it started to give way and he nearly fell in after her. It was too late before my mum managed to stop herself saying 'are you that eager to join her, dad?'
I was about to cry and nearly burst into fits of laughter. how horrible of me.
The same day, I discovered that our old dog has prostate cancer. I was wondering why his balls were so huge. he's not a big dog either; a terrier crossed with a corgie (our old corgie used to live next door to the neighborhood tart, a yappy dog called Alice --> not long after, we got stuck with this mongrel who proceeded to poo and chew his way through our entire yard and shoe collection until my grandfather rescued him from his final journey to the pound). It sounds bad, but one of the biggest problems I have with this is not that he has cancer and will die soon. Its that he farts all the time now, and usually in confined spaces like cars or under a table where we are eating. They smell like dead animal. Poor little thing, I'm so heartless. I guess it doesn't help that he's just not a likeable dog. All the same, I think I'm going to go through a similar post-humous phase with him as I am with Bunny (albeit to a MUCH lesser extent. I don't mean to include the dog and my grandmother in the same category of mourning, just that they never really received much sympathy from me, even in their harder times).
One final thing before I go. I can't get over how my Mum wrote the eulogy. I cried for the first time on saturday for Bunny's own sake, but even then, I couldn't help but blame her for wasting her whole life pretending to be sick. My mother wrote a eulogy which made her look like a loving mother and a go-getting writer. Everyone at the funeral wanted to tell me about what a good person she was, and what a wonderful relationship she had with her son and daughter. It just felt awful because it was so false, and yet I was powerless to stop it. I have spent many a bbq on the back deck at my auntie and uncle's place, listening to my Mum and her brother compete with each other for the worst 'mum story'. She treated them appallingly. She was selfish, rude, embarrassed them in front of their friends (not in the usual way - for example, being stoned out of her eyeballs on valium in front of their friends, lying on their laps and asking them to brush her hair), manipulative, emotionally abusive etc etc. some of those stories were just about 'a current affair' worthy. None of our immediate family would suffer her egocentricity, her million ailments and constant whinging. All she wanted all her life was to be spoon-fed. The world owed her a living. she spent 40+ years lying in bed waiting for it. She didn't get a job, she didn't raise her children, she never cleaned the house or lifted a finger for anyone. How? How can someone waste away a life like that? How can somebody WANT to be dependent? Want to be taken care of?
She scarred many people and never knew how to love selflessly.
When I say mum wrote the eulogy, I mean she wrote the first draft. Nowhere but here will I admit that I helped her write a lot of it. It felt weird, listening to our words being spoken there at the funeral. People cried and were teary during it, but the weirdest thing is that those compelling words were written by the two people who were still the most unforgiving of her. The two people who, even in death, could see most clearly that, even though it is sad she died and tragic that she suffered so much in the last weeks of her life, she was still the woman she had always been; we still saw her as the mother who didn't care for her children, the woman who went to bed one morning and didn't bother to get up for 40 years.
Friday, April 20, 2007
regrettable post no # 2
Nope. Wasn't fast enough. I think she may have even grimaced, but that could just be her usual facial expression distorted in the half-light. Poor girl, its a nasty sight for this time of the day! Time now: 4:20 am (or son las cuatro y veinte) yes I am a spanish MASTER now that I can tell you the time. I couldn't tell you how to order in a restaurant or ask where the nearest police station is, or anything useful for that matter. However, I can tell you the time and describe good looking celebrities [education has gone to the dogs].
For the record also, I should note that I haven't 'gotten with all of misha's friends'. I dated one two years ago, shamelessly flirted with one and became buddy-buddies with another over the course of the last year. This, however, is enough to constitute 'a reputation'. boys. Silly.
Mreh I am still awake, and she has since left.
I would like to announce [partly because I think I am starting to be in need of an affirmation] that I am on a diet. Not a food diet, a person diet. Actually, the xy chromosome diet. Its not that I don't like them, its that I have been a little unlucky this year to say the least, and in the avoidance of more disaster - which is inevitable if I don't stick to this regime - I have decided to preclude myself from situations which tend to give rise to such disaster. Actually, so far we have had a roaring success with only one minor exception, which I am dealing with**. What I think contributes to that success is sharing a flat with two guys, which seems to be a big put-off. It could also be that I have a strange body odour. While its not too much of an issue now, it may prove a problem when i go loco (inevitable, but temporarily avoidable).
So if I get cranky, you know why now, ladies and gentlemen.
Or ladies. seeing as my blog seems to attract a very select audience.
Ok I'm going to attempt to go to sleep for the last 1 1/2 hrs before I face my psychopathic chiropractor/charlatan/robot/mercenary stinge-bag.
ergh ergh ergh ergh
Goodnight, all
** in the interests of not regretting this already regrettable post, names and dates have been omitted
For the record also, I should note that I haven't 'gotten with all of misha's friends'. I dated one two years ago, shamelessly flirted with one and became buddy-buddies with another over the course of the last year. This, however, is enough to constitute 'a reputation'. boys. Silly.
Mreh I am still awake, and she has since left.
I would like to announce [partly because I think I am starting to be in need of an affirmation] that I am on a diet. Not a food diet, a person diet. Actually, the xy chromosome diet. Its not that I don't like them, its that I have been a little unlucky this year to say the least, and in the avoidance of more disaster - which is inevitable if I don't stick to this regime - I have decided to preclude myself from situations which tend to give rise to such disaster. Actually, so far we have had a roaring success with only one minor exception, which I am dealing with**. What I think contributes to that success is sharing a flat with two guys, which seems to be a big put-off. It could also be that I have a strange body odour. While its not too much of an issue now, it may prove a problem when i go loco (inevitable, but temporarily avoidable).
So if I get cranky, you know why now, ladies and gentlemen.
Or ladies. seeing as my blog seems to attract a very select audience.
Ok I'm going to attempt to go to sleep for the last 1 1/2 hrs before I face my psychopathic chiropractor/charlatan/robot/mercenary stinge-bag.
ergh ergh ergh ergh
Goodnight, all
** in the interests of not regretting this already regrettable post, names and dates have been omitted
Oh Why Am I Still Awake???
Hola, mis amigos!
Son las cuatro menos ocho en la manana y soy cansado pero exploriar la internet. Es no bien.. tambien, hoy yo trabajo y vamos con mi abuelo (esto un poco loco).
just a short post to mark the sad moment whe I realised I was awake at 3:58am on a saturday morning. this is most unfair. I spent a total of 2hours at the RE hotel (a cheap, divey pub that I like because of its cheap diviness.. and proximity to my house) and have since paid for it with a dehydration headache, dry lips and dried out, scratchy throat. And I'm restless. But that has a different explanation.
Lets not forget to mention I'm starting sentences with But and And here - a sure sign that this girl is wide awake and not quite grasping the English language.
Just a quick newsbreak while I'm up feeling sorry for myself:
Max is staying.
dammit dammit dammit... he got a job as a dishpig at the Regatta on wed and will now proceed to work 25 hrs a week to get by. what he will do during the rest of his week is a mystery to all... now that it took him a whole month to drop out of his course.
p.s. regatta are paying him peanuts. less than half of what I earn per hour. he can't pay rent on that! the rent is more than 50% of his pay! and he already spends most of that on stupid things he doesn't need which obscure the view between him and the Bleak Truth. (xbox games, pc stuff and so forth)
In other breaking news, I have heard Misha's song. the controversial legacy to my ability to flirt with or date his friends (ironically, all from different groups of his friends) has been given a tribute through Misha's mean spirited song, in which he claims (by the way, I "inspired" this song, its "technically" not about me) I am trying to 'get with all his friends to get to him'. The song is about how I am really just trying to hunt him down all along, just scoring with his mates along the way. Amazingly, the song hasn't received popular support. Raph refuses to have anything to do with it. actually the song is quite funny. i thought i would hate it but i don't look so bad... consequently, I will try and get a copy for this site
oh wow this is bad. I am sitting out here at 4am, blogging away in my barely there underwear and a tight fitting singlet, when who should appear but *psycho music* RACHEL.
another max-transmitted virus. and she comes out here, with the pc shedding just enough light so show her a bit of skin and my not-so-new underwear. i'm sure she secretly loves it.
think i'll sign off before she leaves the bathroom *shudders again*
Son las cuatro menos ocho en la manana y soy cansado pero exploriar la internet. Es no bien.. tambien, hoy yo trabajo y vamos con mi abuelo (esto un poco loco).
just a short post to mark the sad moment whe I realised I was awake at 3:58am on a saturday morning. this is most unfair. I spent a total of 2hours at the RE hotel (a cheap, divey pub that I like because of its cheap diviness.. and proximity to my house) and have since paid for it with a dehydration headache, dry lips and dried out, scratchy throat. And I'm restless. But that has a different explanation.
Lets not forget to mention I'm starting sentences with But and And here - a sure sign that this girl is wide awake and not quite grasping the English language.
Just a quick newsbreak while I'm up feeling sorry for myself:
Max is staying.
dammit dammit dammit... he got a job as a dishpig at the Regatta on wed and will now proceed to work 25 hrs a week to get by. what he will do during the rest of his week is a mystery to all... now that it took him a whole month to drop out of his course.
p.s. regatta are paying him peanuts. less than half of what I earn per hour. he can't pay rent on that! the rent is more than 50% of his pay! and he already spends most of that on stupid things he doesn't need which obscure the view between him and the Bleak Truth. (xbox games, pc stuff and so forth)
In other breaking news, I have heard Misha's song. the controversial legacy to my ability to flirt with or date his friends (ironically, all from different groups of his friends) has been given a tribute through Misha's mean spirited song, in which he claims (by the way, I "inspired" this song, its "technically" not about me) I am trying to 'get with all his friends to get to him'. The song is about how I am really just trying to hunt him down all along, just scoring with his mates along the way. Amazingly, the song hasn't received popular support. Raph refuses to have anything to do with it. actually the song is quite funny. i thought i would hate it but i don't look so bad... consequently, I will try and get a copy for this site
oh wow this is bad. I am sitting out here at 4am, blogging away in my barely there underwear and a tight fitting singlet, when who should appear but *psycho music* RACHEL.
another max-transmitted virus. and she comes out here, with the pc shedding just enough light so show her a bit of skin and my not-so-new underwear. i'm sure she secretly loves it.
think i'll sign off before she leaves the bathroom *shudders again*
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
The Ultimate Satisfaction
I am going to release my secret to temporary Ultimate Satisfaction (the other kind):
1. Beer (a good beer, preferably pure blonde so its also a guilt free beer)
2. Steak. $7.95 steak and salad, with mushroom sauce. RE, tuesday nights. be there
3. The Simpsons - a new episode, but for preference, a classic from seasons 1-8
4. Good company. preferably one that doesn't require you to talk about anything awkward
actually, its conducive to sleep. and i've had a whole 5 hours of that since saturday. today is tuesday.
In other news, I read in my sister's blog. sally, at $13 for 40g wool, you'd be better off buying gold. Scott, however, thinks there may be 'a different nugget of gold in there'. the nugget of gold of a good idea that is! what an industry. in wool! if you could get a stranglehold on the market...
how many cliched and not-quite-working metaphors were in that last paragraph?
a jonogold apple for the first right answer. a lump of coal for every entrant thereafter.
well. I had something else to say but I forgot what it was in my beautiful bliss, and thought of a good apple and a nugget of wool which is actually a good manufacturing idea.
i'm going to go find my marbles
Hasta Proxima!
1. Beer (a good beer, preferably pure blonde so its also a guilt free beer)
2. Steak. $7.95 steak and salad, with mushroom sauce. RE, tuesday nights. be there
3. The Simpsons - a new episode, but for preference, a classic from seasons 1-8
4. Good company. preferably one that doesn't require you to talk about anything awkward
actually, its conducive to sleep. and i've had a whole 5 hours of that since saturday. today is tuesday.
In other news, I read in my sister's blog. sally, at $13 for 40g wool, you'd be better off buying gold. Scott, however, thinks there may be 'a different nugget of gold in there'. the nugget of gold of a good idea that is! what an industry. in wool! if you could get a stranglehold on the market...
how many cliched and not-quite-working metaphors were in that last paragraph?
a jonogold apple for the first right answer. a lump of coal for every entrant thereafter.
well. I had something else to say but I forgot what it was in my beautiful bliss, and thought of a good apple and a nugget of wool which is actually a good manufacturing idea.
i'm going to go find my marbles
Hasta Proxima!
Friday, April 13, 2007
Who (or what) ate my apple?
I cannot believe it. That fool max ate one of my Jonogold apples. If you haven't had yourself one yet, get down to your local coles and find yourself one. I have no money for food until next friday and the useless poo head goes and eats one of my apples!!!! I just paid him $450 cash in hand.
Ten reasons why I am Max without touching on the *real* stuff
1. I can run faster
2. I am capable of cleaning up after myself
3. I go to a uni that actually is a uni and not an institution
Believe me i do have ten. in fact i have about 34028573858 reasons but this page keeps coming up 'not responding'
its max's spirit haunting this pc. the useless spirit that does nothing but annoy and waste your time.
i'm going to work.
you heard me. work. i have a job.
Ten reasons why I am Max without touching on the *real* stuff
1. I can run faster
2. I am capable of cleaning up after myself
3. I go to a uni that actually is a uni and not an institution
Believe me i do have ten. in fact i have about 34028573858 reasons but this page keeps coming up 'not responding'
its max's spirit haunting this pc. the useless spirit that does nothing but annoy and waste your time.
i'm going to work.
you heard me. work. i have a job.
Who (or what) ate my apple?
I cannot believe it. That fool max ate one of my Jonogold apples. If you haven't had yourself one yet, get down to your local coles and find yourself one. I have no money for food until next friday and the useless poo head goes and eats one of my apples!!!! I just paid him $450 cash in hand.
Ten reasons why I am Max without touching on the *real* stuff
1. I can run faster
2. I am capable of cleaning up after myself
3. I go to a uni that actually is a uni and not an institution
Believe me i do have ten. in fact i have about 34028573858 reasons but this page keeps coming up 'not responding'
its max's spirit haunting this pc. the useless spirit that does nothing but annoy and waste your time.
i'm going to work.
you heard me. work. i have a job.
Ten reasons why I am Max without touching on the *real* stuff
1. I can run faster
2. I am capable of cleaning up after myself
3. I go to a uni that actually is a uni and not an institution
Believe me i do have ten. in fact i have about 34028573858 reasons but this page keeps coming up 'not responding'
its max's spirit haunting this pc. the useless spirit that does nothing but annoy and waste your time.
i'm going to work.
you heard me. work. i have a job.
Why I Should Be A Hip Hop Kriminal
Yo G (almost yoga, rhymes with goji, a rich source of antioxidants),
I think in consideration of the following issues I face, i have reasonable grounds to write one of those horribly pretentious songs that those morons in shirts and shorts 4-6 sizes too large, hats on backward and clown shoes tend to shit all over the world with. Lets see what crap i can spurn tonight:
My boss don't cut me no slack, and disses on my language. he won't let me say no worries so i'll light his firm with 'durries' (what those peasants call cigarettes, no?). not really, but i'd like to; then i'll use his tongue to paint my boat (go moe, ... if i only owned a goat?)
2. my family's got problems, and my mum's stressin' out - my Grand-daddy's losin' his marbles and he kicks and now he shouts;
3. well my grand-mom (we pretend we're from the us) she's been sick now. and she's had it all but dr. doyle who'd do more harm no doubt
and my flat mate he's a wanker he can't pay his share of rent
so his mate steps in then he protests and now he's had a vent
to my sis' of course... he's such a horse... except that horses can be useful
this guy just mopes and lies about then gets malicious, angry, rueful
he's as pathetic as a poet
the one from moulin rouge in fact
but even poets have their uses
[ref: wordsworth, Wilde, Aristotle, Pater, Arnold, Pope, Johnson, TS Eliot, Horace, Virgil, Quintilian, Dryden... whoops i let culture and learning show through again. hold on:]
all this guy's got is abuses
and here i'm bein' pretentious and bitchy
what's it for? my leg is itchy
that's the class and style of rhymes the times are lettin' slip but there's more to hit you with its stiff its nasty *biff* goes life on my shoulders feels like i'm carrying boulders
now like all oppressed women
forced to sleep on cheap linen
i'll be headen for winnin'
the battle to keep the rhymes spinnin'
but i'm fading so fast
but kids i had me a blast
cos' these songs are a farce
their like so easy to write
you could use 'em in fight
when you spit down the mic
ok seriously folks, you get it. i hate these guys. but i hate it more that i can identify various elements of my life *so many omitted here for reasons of subject matter sensitivity* that accord frequently with the subject matter of hip hop artists. if you can call them hip hop artists.
and if you exclude such frequent subjects of theirs as 'i hate my bitch' and 'i slept with yo' mamma' and other such mysogynist, derogatory titles. oh and ones RE: 'cut me a break and pay me the living you owe me, world. and no i won't get a job'
mreh
i have to face dr. death tomorrow morning, so i'll call it a night
GO TITANS
EVEN FOOTBALL IS FOR SALE - OH GOLD COAST, HOW I LOVE YOUR SHAMELESSNESS
signing off xxxx
I think in consideration of the following issues I face, i have reasonable grounds to write one of those horribly pretentious songs that those morons in shirts and shorts 4-6 sizes too large, hats on backward and clown shoes tend to shit all over the world with. Lets see what crap i can spurn tonight:
My boss don't cut me no slack, and disses on my language. he won't let me say no worries so i'll light his firm with 'durries' (what those peasants call cigarettes, no?). not really, but i'd like to; then i'll use his tongue to paint my boat (go moe, ... if i only owned a goat?)
2. my family's got problems, and my mum's stressin' out - my Grand-daddy's losin' his marbles and he kicks and now he shouts;
3. well my grand-mom (we pretend we're from the us) she's been sick now. and she's had it all but dr. doyle who'd do more harm no doubt
and my flat mate he's a wanker he can't pay his share of rent
so his mate steps in then he protests and now he's had a vent
to my sis' of course... he's such a horse... except that horses can be useful
this guy just mopes and lies about then gets malicious, angry, rueful
he's as pathetic as a poet
the one from moulin rouge in fact
but even poets have their uses
[ref: wordsworth, Wilde, Aristotle, Pater, Arnold, Pope, Johnson, TS Eliot, Horace, Virgil, Quintilian, Dryden... whoops i let culture and learning show through again. hold on:]
all this guy's got is abuses
and here i'm bein' pretentious and bitchy
what's it for? my leg is itchy
that's the class and style of rhymes the times are lettin' slip but there's more to hit you with its stiff its nasty *biff* goes life on my shoulders feels like i'm carrying boulders
now like all oppressed women
forced to sleep on cheap linen
i'll be headen for winnin'
the battle to keep the rhymes spinnin'
but i'm fading so fast
but kids i had me a blast
cos' these songs are a farce
their like so easy to write
you could use 'em in fight
when you spit down the mic
ok seriously folks, you get it. i hate these guys. but i hate it more that i can identify various elements of my life *so many omitted here for reasons of subject matter sensitivity* that accord frequently with the subject matter of hip hop artists. if you can call them hip hop artists.
and if you exclude such frequent subjects of theirs as 'i hate my bitch' and 'i slept with yo' mamma' and other such mysogynist, derogatory titles. oh and ones RE: 'cut me a break and pay me the living you owe me, world. and no i won't get a job'
mreh
i have to face dr. death tomorrow morning, so i'll call it a night
GO TITANS
EVEN FOOTBALL IS FOR SALE - OH GOLD COAST, HOW I LOVE YOUR SHAMELESSNESS
signing off xxxx
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Title = true to its word
The latest and greatest from the newsroom on Miskin Street:
1. Out with the old, in with the new
2. More Farewells than Nellie Melba
3. Steak Night. a chapter on Steak.
Just a quick post this morning as I launch into the heavy slog of my Crim law assignment..
OUT WITH THE OLD...
My flatmate, long time friend and 'lost soul', Max, has finally run out of money. claiming that the world hates him and he can't get a job because everyone is against him (and me offering to help him and encouraging him to apply for jobs in the paper & jobs "wasn't helping his situation"). He has given me a generous two weeks notice before he will fail to pay rent. which is heaps of time to shuffle him out, find someone new, change names on leases etc without me having to cover in excess of $500 p/fortnight in the meantime. p.s. i don't earn enough to pay that and eat. let alone pay bills, eat food, transport...
Enough of the bitching. I got screwed over. Screwed over bad. The cyclone was starting to rip apart my happy little dwelling
However, I saw signs of luck for the first time in a little while. Meet Scott Lewis (soon to be pictured), my new flatmate, Max's friend, all round good guy. i am saved. Of course there will be things i'll miss about Max... the microwave, for example.
More Farewells...
Quick news update on my grandmother. It seems she is fighting back yet again, and is making a steady recovery from the following:
2 simultaneous infections of the blood
necrotic organ tissue
acute renal failure
a "dodgy" liver (dont' ask how)
pancreatitis
a 'fungus' transported through the blood cells
liquid in her lungs
she's also had to have a tracheotomy, 3 or 4 operations (i forget)
she will now be on insulin, dialysis and over 12 pills daily for the rest of her life.
The woman is hanging on for a reason, and has had more farewells than Nellie Melba, more combacks than John Farnham. but why???
STEAK NIGHT
crap i have run out of internet time.. maybe another time.
STEAK IS $8.00 from the RE on tuesdays. my new dilemma: const lecture, or juicy steak?
1. Out with the old, in with the new
2. More Farewells than Nellie Melba
3. Steak Night. a chapter on Steak.
Just a quick post this morning as I launch into the heavy slog of my Crim law assignment..
OUT WITH THE OLD...
My flatmate, long time friend and 'lost soul', Max, has finally run out of money. claiming that the world hates him and he can't get a job because everyone is against him (and me offering to help him and encouraging him to apply for jobs in the paper & jobs "wasn't helping his situation"). He has given me a generous two weeks notice before he will fail to pay rent. which is heaps of time to shuffle him out, find someone new, change names on leases etc without me having to cover in excess of $500 p/fortnight in the meantime. p.s. i don't earn enough to pay that and eat. let alone pay bills, eat food, transport...
Enough of the bitching. I got screwed over. Screwed over bad. The cyclone was starting to rip apart my happy little dwelling
However, I saw signs of luck for the first time in a little while. Meet Scott Lewis (soon to be pictured), my new flatmate, Max's friend, all round good guy. i am saved. Of course there will be things i'll miss about Max... the microwave, for example.
More Farewells...
Quick news update on my grandmother. It seems she is fighting back yet again, and is making a steady recovery from the following:
2 simultaneous infections of the blood
necrotic organ tissue
acute renal failure
a "dodgy" liver (dont' ask how)
pancreatitis
a 'fungus' transported through the blood cells
liquid in her lungs
she's also had to have a tracheotomy, 3 or 4 operations (i forget)
she will now be on insulin, dialysis and over 12 pills daily for the rest of her life.
The woman is hanging on for a reason, and has had more farewells than Nellie Melba, more combacks than John Farnham. but why???
STEAK NIGHT
crap i have run out of internet time.. maybe another time.
STEAK IS $8.00 from the RE on tuesdays. my new dilemma: const lecture, or juicy steak?
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Introducing...
Sweet! She finally writes in her blog! Hayley + miles of espace = most boring autobiography ever. [assuming we go by Wilde's theory that all opinion is autobiography].
I've abstained from writing so far for fear of lack of stuff to write about. now i have the opposite problem. I have let the following items stack up:
My "new" astra
Joss Stone in concert
Gomez in concert
rockin' it out with the hoi polloi in hip hop town
my work (past, present, future)
my recently formed views on men
of totally minor importance, but the discovery of an awesome dish, the recipe of which i shall divulge shortly.
CHAPTER 1: THE "NEW" ASTRA
I am the proud owner-ish* of a holden astra. It goes okay, except for when i turn on the indicators I in fact turn on the window wipers,
except for the airconditioning which is broken on every setting except full-bore,
except for the left rear view mirror, which holds a 7yr curse, is hanging on by its cables and which i have mercifully duct-taped back on,l
except for the missing hubcap,
and the non-working tape deck/tuner (torture that there's no cd player, but this? this is obscene);
and the massive scrapes down the side which look like edward scissor hands got mad at it (and it also makes me look like a s--t driver),
... oh and it stalls every once in a while 'just to keep you on your toes',
and the seat slides forward when you go down hills - so its kind of like a weights resistance exercise, which has its own benefits i suppose...
and it smells like dog. But this problem is far better than the one preceding it - yep, this baby sat in a backyard owned by dogs and contracted mange. It was a mangey, flea-lousy beast.
But its my car, and once its had its first service in 6 years on wednesday, and about $20 worth of coins blown on it at carlovers, and an ipod fm tuner to fit its born-again radio, it will be unreal. I'm not talking Joss Stone in Concert unreal, but 'i have a car now' unreal. the kind of unreal that becomes a petrol-smelly reality at the bowser, but for now its my ticket to Outta Here.
There seems to be something about Brisbane, that once you have lived here a little while there is this desperate need to be in a place [similar to Outta Here] called "Anywhere But Brisbane". I have my own views on this, but as I'm not really a local, I would appreciate feedback from any Brisbanites on this itchy-feet complex. Help is appreciated, because I'm feeling it too.
That said, it could just be my flatmate. I think i might get him an apron and some deoderant for Christmas. Too obvious?
CHAPTER 2: Joss Stone, Live and in Concert
Oh man. I was in the front row for one of the most phenomenal live acts i have ever seen. Joss Stone sets my pants on fire. Now I'm female, and as straight as the day is long. That was me. The guys behind me? I don't like to speculate, but it did suddenly grow very hot in that pit. I pushed forward on the barricade, not wanting to discover the cause of the climate change. I looked at Joss. I swear Joss looked at me. I thought 'bitch, if I had a voice and legs like that'. She probably thought 'what's my next line' or 'gee, those boys behind that lass are lookin' a wee bit flushed'.
I get distracted. I haven't even told you about her band yet. Now you know a band are going to be something else when the bass player is a 40-something skinny white thing sporting the world's worst greasy-long-curl haircut & thinks a banana yellow dress shirt matched with a black leather vest. Or when the shoop shoop girls are 2 voluptuous afro-american women with the most enormous breasts I have seen in the flesh, and one of the shoop-shoopers is a male, afro-american with corn-row hair and an NYPD outfit on [rather reminiscent of the village people, don't you think?]... Or maybe the fact that she fleeced James Brown's sax and trumpeter from his not-yet-cold corpse, and you can tell (i'm talking bowler-hats and risky business sunnies, ladies and gentlemen). Either way, a line up like this has that paralytic effect that keeps you nailed to the earth like a confused-looking statue. Could be pondering the universe, could be blown away by most-incredibly-virtuousic-line-up ever... they can play, and they don't just play like a cd. Every last one of them added something to the mix, and every last one of them kicked ass.
I should actually tell you what's good about seeing her live. There is a tangible kinetic energy in the air on that stage, she maintains a rapport with the audience and gets us doing stuff (to stop looking like confused and/or aroused statues) and talks to us (SO IMPORTANT. I can think of a metallica concert that was like putting on a cd) and THAT VOICE OH MY GOD. She has this pure, clean and expressive voice that will just blow you away. and then, for the fellas (and those among us who will credit talent where its due) she moves across the stage so well, and keeps you entertained.
Lets total that up, shall we? Voice + muy guapa + talented band + rapport with audience + awesome music + moves like a senorita = very cool show
CHAPTER 3: GOMEZ LIVE AND IN CONCERT
It seems unfair to place this after such a rave about Joss, because when it comes down to it, I have 6 of Gomez's 7 cds, I know every last lyric to their song, I worship the ground they walk on. And live, they, too, are actually quite awesome. they are a quirky bunch, all cute (not attractive cute, but 'i'd like to take you home and give you a bath' cute) unshaven, daggy dorks in coke-bottle glasses. But that is to detract from their slightly ethereal tunes and their weird lyrics which often just express things a little better than the average poet/lyricist/hip-hop 'dog', or maybe they just do that for me. NB 'Gonna get myself arrested' is not what i mean by singing what i'm thinking. Maybe fill my cup? ... been picking up girls and diseases, ladies and gentlemen... maybe more along the lines of 'fill my cup / and make me happy / fill it up /and make me smile [make me smile]/fill my cup and give me a reason / a reason to feel alright'
or virginia (if you know how to run, sweet virginia, you should run...)
So seeing them play around on stage with their songs and each other was, for me, fan-******tastic!
Hayley Forms Intenion to Commit an Aggravated Offence against Technology
[Argh I don't believe this! The bipolar internet has decided to play dead again! and now I am going to lose my blog]
ahh i have written stacks for one night, anyway. and don't say i never post. i do, i just dump a short, boring novel on you every few years.
I've abstained from writing so far for fear of lack of stuff to write about. now i have the opposite problem. I have let the following items stack up:
My "new" astra
Joss Stone in concert
Gomez in concert
rockin' it out with the hoi polloi in hip hop town
my work (past, present, future)
my recently formed views on men
of totally minor importance, but the discovery of an awesome dish, the recipe of which i shall divulge shortly.
CHAPTER 1: THE "NEW" ASTRA
I am the proud owner-ish* of a holden astra. It goes okay, except for when i turn on the indicators I in fact turn on the window wipers,
except for the airconditioning which is broken on every setting except full-bore,
except for the left rear view mirror, which holds a 7yr curse, is hanging on by its cables and which i have mercifully duct-taped back on,l
except for the missing hubcap,
and the non-working tape deck/tuner (torture that there's no cd player, but this? this is obscene);
and the massive scrapes down the side which look like edward scissor hands got mad at it (and it also makes me look like a s--t driver),
... oh and it stalls every once in a while 'just to keep you on your toes',
and the seat slides forward when you go down hills - so its kind of like a weights resistance exercise, which has its own benefits i suppose...
and it smells like dog. But this problem is far better than the one preceding it - yep, this baby sat in a backyard owned by dogs and contracted mange. It was a mangey, flea-lousy beast.
But its my car, and once its had its first service in 6 years on wednesday, and about $20 worth of coins blown on it at carlovers, and an ipod fm tuner to fit its born-again radio, it will be unreal. I'm not talking Joss Stone in Concert unreal, but 'i have a car now' unreal. the kind of unreal that becomes a petrol-smelly reality at the bowser, but for now its my ticket to Outta Here.
There seems to be something about Brisbane, that once you have lived here a little while there is this desperate need to be in a place [similar to Outta Here] called "Anywhere But Brisbane". I have my own views on this, but as I'm not really a local, I would appreciate feedback from any Brisbanites on this itchy-feet complex. Help is appreciated, because I'm feeling it too.
That said, it could just be my flatmate. I think i might get him an apron and some deoderant for Christmas. Too obvious?
CHAPTER 2: Joss Stone, Live and in Concert
Oh man. I was in the front row for one of the most phenomenal live acts i have ever seen. Joss Stone sets my pants on fire. Now I'm female, and as straight as the day is long. That was me. The guys behind me? I don't like to speculate, but it did suddenly grow very hot in that pit. I pushed forward on the barricade, not wanting to discover the cause of the climate change. I looked at Joss. I swear Joss looked at me. I thought 'bitch, if I had a voice and legs like that'. She probably thought 'what's my next line' or 'gee, those boys behind that lass are lookin' a wee bit flushed'.
I get distracted. I haven't even told you about her band yet. Now you know a band are going to be something else when the bass player is a 40-something skinny white thing sporting the world's worst greasy-long-curl haircut & thinks a banana yellow dress shirt matched with a black leather vest. Or when the shoop shoop girls are 2 voluptuous afro-american women with the most enormous breasts I have seen in the flesh, and one of the shoop-shoopers is a male, afro-american with corn-row hair and an NYPD outfit on [rather reminiscent of the village people, don't you think?]... Or maybe the fact that she fleeced James Brown's sax and trumpeter from his not-yet-cold corpse, and you can tell (i'm talking bowler-hats and risky business sunnies, ladies and gentlemen). Either way, a line up like this has that paralytic effect that keeps you nailed to the earth like a confused-looking statue. Could be pondering the universe, could be blown away by most-incredibly-virtuousic-line-up ever... they can play, and they don't just play like a cd. Every last one of them added something to the mix, and every last one of them kicked ass.
I should actually tell you what's good about seeing her live. There is a tangible kinetic energy in the air on that stage, she maintains a rapport with the audience and gets us doing stuff (to stop looking like confused and/or aroused statues) and talks to us (SO IMPORTANT. I can think of a metallica concert that was like putting on a cd) and THAT VOICE OH MY GOD. She has this pure, clean and expressive voice that will just blow you away. and then, for the fellas (and those among us who will credit talent where its due) she moves across the stage so well, and keeps you entertained.
Lets total that up, shall we? Voice + muy guapa + talented band + rapport with audience + awesome music + moves like a senorita = very cool show
CHAPTER 3: GOMEZ LIVE AND IN CONCERT
It seems unfair to place this after such a rave about Joss, because when it comes down to it, I have 6 of Gomez's 7 cds, I know every last lyric to their song, I worship the ground they walk on. And live, they, too, are actually quite awesome. they are a quirky bunch, all cute (not attractive cute, but 'i'd like to take you home and give you a bath' cute) unshaven, daggy dorks in coke-bottle glasses. But that is to detract from their slightly ethereal tunes and their weird lyrics which often just express things a little better than the average poet/lyricist/hip-hop 'dog', or maybe they just do that for me. NB 'Gonna get myself arrested' is not what i mean by singing what i'm thinking. Maybe fill my cup? ... been picking up girls and diseases, ladies and gentlemen... maybe more along the lines of 'fill my cup / and make me happy / fill it up /and make me smile [make me smile]/fill my cup and give me a reason / a reason to feel alright'
or virginia (if you know how to run, sweet virginia, you should run...)
So seeing them play around on stage with their songs and each other was, for me, fan-******tastic!
Hayley Forms Intenion to Commit an Aggravated Offence against Technology
[Argh I don't believe this! The bipolar internet has decided to play dead again! and now I am going to lose my blog]
ahh i have written stacks for one night, anyway. and don't say i never post. i do, i just dump a short, boring novel on you every few years.
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