Laughter in the Headlines
Current mood: giggly
Category: News and Politics

You know, I sometimes wonder about the things that get published in our papers. Statistics about obesity, the amount of sugar in our bread, breakthroughs in 'shoe' technology…. But once in a while, you get yourself a gem. Something that makes you wonder if the journalist (in fact, the editor and the whole newspaper) is on crack. And I'm not just talking about the content- no, far from it! The whole reason I decide to read an article is if the headline is good. So I guess that explains why I know jack about world events and am full of shit.

Here are some of the gems I found while surfing the net today:

Grandmother of eight makes hole in one.
What the? How the heck did she manage that? I can just imagine…. Granny sitting on the porch with her walking stick in hand, grandson at her feet playing his PSP- 'Back in my day, sonny boy Jim' *poke, poke* 'We didn't have all this fancy game stuff' *poke* 'We had to make our own fun' *poke- child screams and clutches his gaping side* Granny sighs… 'They sure don't make 'em like they used to…'

Milk drinkers are turning to powder.
You're kidding right? And I thought they said that drinking milk was supposed to be good for you. I tell you, it's days like this I'm glad to be lactose intolerant. My bones may be brittle, but at least I'm not going to crumble!!! Just imagine taking your five year old to playgroup and introducing her to the teacher for the first time- 'Oh, you have to be careful with little Marie- she drinks MILK!!! Now I've brought her cushions and you know she's not allowed to wipe, right? Don't want her bits falling off. Just make sure she jiggles a bit when she's done. Oh, and if you can, please get her to wear her straight jacket out at play time so she can't injure herself playing with the others. In fact, do there really have to be others?' You get my drift.

Quarter of a million Chinese live on water.
Crafty buggers. No wonder they're freaking skinny. Here I was thinking it was rice and veggies. Chinese cooking school 101- 'Yes yes, put the pot on to boil. No, don't wolly about the lice- it's just dare to look good.  Makes dem tink we eat it. Fat bastads.' 

Is there a ring of debris around Uranus?
Not if you wipe!!!

Child's stool great for use in garden.
Um, ok. So which sicko decided to test this theory out? 'Eric, go to the toilet. Mummy doesn't want you pooping in her rose garden!!!' *Three weeks later* 'Holy crap- look at my roses Roger! … Eric, your father and I have decided that you are no longer allowed to toilet indoors unless it's a number 1. Now, I have a nice spot picked out for you over near the azaleas and next week, we'll move onto the hedge. Don't worry about the dirty old man next door- I'll send your father visiting when you need to go.'

Squad helps dog bite victim.
So I'm imagining … A squad of soldiers training at an army base stops when they hear a bloke screaming in agony with a dog hanging off his leg. A couple of the soldiers help to pry the dog off and notice that even though the bite is superficial, the man is still screaming like a wounded boar. 'That's not a bite,' a soldier says, 'This is a bite!' and procedes to clamp down on the wounded man's leg…. 

Child's death ruins couple's holiday.
Hmmmm. Elizabeth and Charlie are newly married. Their son Peter (Charlie's from a previous marriage) is playing in the surf with some other children. The cocktails arrive and ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Elizabeth sips on hers contentedly while gazing out to sea. Suddenly, Peter is jerked under the water. He comes up, screaming, arms flailing, then disappears again, a steady red stain spreading from the spot where he vanished. Elizabeth and Charlie jump to their feet and run to the water's edge where Elizabeth snatches Charlie's cocktail and skulls it down in three gulps… She looks up at her beloved Charlie's tear stained face and asks… 'So I guess swimming is out for the next few days?'

Some other noteworthy headlines:

Miners refuse to work after death
Lawmen from Mexico barbecue guests
Enraged Cow attacks farmer with axe
Safety experts say that school bus passengers should be belted
Iraqi head seeks arms
Queen Mary having bottom scraped

Hehehe.

PS- Still thinking of you Slow Joe. Sickness does not imply an inability to read your biggest fans blogs. Haha.
Get well soon.

Currently reading : Enchanter (The Wayfarer Redemption, Book 2) By Sara Douglass Release date: 15 April, 2002

6:37 PM - 9 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Housework for Dummies
Current mood: chipper
Category: Blogging

I dedicate this to my dog, Gaetana Banana Poo-Bum Head, the source of all my laughter and tears.

Contrary to popular belief, keeping your house clean is a simple task. It was not designed to inspire feelings of hair-pulling frustration, nor was it meant to be something that becomes so cumbersome that you feel the need to put it off until you can no longer see the way to the couch from the front door. The key is little steps and lots of them. 

For ease of use, this manual has been separated into two sections- one for animals and one for housemates. Please bare in mind that if your housemate has a tendency to live fairly similarly to your animals in the first place, you may just save yourself some reading, hense the order of my housekeeping tips!

For the animals (and animals at heart):

1) The tissues are not for eating or spreading all over the living room. This counts regardless of where they're placed, whether it's on the coffee table, or on the floor next to the couch. Similarly, dirty tissues are equally out of bounds and consumption will ultimately lead to a stomach upset and a cranky mummy. It's hard to run from a broom wielding crazy woman while feeling sick, so the trick is to just avoid the sticky green temptation. Oh, and one last hot tip- try to refrain from tearing the tissues apart while mum is removing your poo from the newspaper. Nobody likes poo on their hands, not even yours!

2) Make friends with the newspaper. If you're a paper-trained pet, or your owner says you're supposed to be, then you're usually expected to ONLY go on the newspaper. Your cuteness will only get you out of so many little 'accidents'. Eventually, you'll end up with your nose rubbed in your own pee and spending the next two days trying to persuade the cats to lick your face clean for you. They won't, so don't do it.

3) Cords are not put on earth for your amusement. I don't care if they're head height for you and in your face. Your teething should be limited to approved objects only. Your dentabones for example, are a wonderful teething tool. So is Aunty Jen's ankle. Mine however, are out of the question, as are all cords in the house, especially the TV and internet cables.

4) Your dinner belongs in your bowl- not on the floor. Seeing as I eat my dinner each night before feeding you, I do believe that you already know that I'm full and are choosing simply to f*ck with me. I don't require you to pick each individual morsel from your bowl and use my foot as table top for your splatter-munch. For your information, I also don't like getting up in the middle of the night to use the toilet, and having to walk through a miniature mine field of dog and cat food chunks.

5) My dirty clothes piles are NOT a playground. Your mother is lazy- we get that. It does not mean that you are allowed to hoon around in the various layers of her dirty laundry piles. Similarly, it is not your god given right to hijack her favourite underwear and stash them in your bed. It is embarrassing for your mother to turn around while entertaining friends, to find a scrap of underwear wedged firmly in your little salivating jaws. Furthermore, she's tired of trying to explain that she had nothing to do with you growing up to be a little deviate- you were like that when she got you.

For the Housemates:

1) Your food = Your dishes = Your Problem. If you eat, please be aware of the fact that your dishes will not magically wash themselves. A dirty plate requires soapy water and elbow grease, not a baleful glance and a comment about the whereabouts of the dish-fairy and how she ought to be sacked. If left long enough, dirty dishes WILL decide to multiply and start to smell. This will result in a cranky room mate and a distinct decrease in your personal wellbeing (as prescribed by said cranky room mate). 

2) Skids in the toilet do not count as art. Ie: Kirsty does not like to view them and neither do our visitors. If you feel the need to decorate the toilet, go ahead, but please spare me the forensics of your shit-splatter. It's gross and detracts from my ability to fill out word sleuths while doing my thing. The toilet brush is right there and it's all just a simple wrist motion- practice my friend!

No, I think I'm out now. My poor brain has been working overtime on this random piece of bitchiness. Peace and Love and all that mushy stuff.

Keep your houses clean!!!

K

8:12 PM - 5 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Weekends a-shambles (AKA best weekend ever!!!)
Category: Friends

Good morning all!!! I realise its been a while since you've had a laugh at my expense.... but guess what. I have good stories for you and I swear to god they're true. This one happened just two weeks ago and I've finally gotten around to documenting it. It takes place on a camping trip I had planned with a couple of new friends of mine. We had decided that we were going to head out to this awesome fishing spot they'd found and camp the night before coming home. Sounds simple, right??? Wrong.

Here's a quick run down:

My friends both work on the weekend and so we had to wait until they were done with their Saturday shifts before we could leave. When we got to Karratha, it was getting dark and we still had to make our way to the fishing spot. We got 3/4 of the way there, then got bogged on the mudflats. We were there for three hours, digging and forraging for sticks. Finally made it back to the boat ramp at 9:30pm.

- Went to cook our dinner and found that we'd forgotten to pack my frying pan in our haste to leave (it sat on the porch, wrapped in a pillowcase all weekend) and so had to improvise and found a tin plate we thought might do the trick on my camper bbq.

- Set the barbecue up and went to light it and it set on fire!!! Doused it and decided to have some jager bombs to cheer ourselves up. I got dobbed into jager wench duties.

- Plugged Dom's 15cm (f*cking tiny!) frying pan into the cigarette lighter to try and cook our chicken kebabs. Two hours later, the chicken is mildly warm and we're freaking starving. So we decide to take a drive into Karratha to see if we can find a park barbie instead.

- Half an hour of cruising later, we give up and park at an oval so I can use the toilets. Jump out and what do we find? Barbecues. So here's us at 12 at night, cooking kebabs and drinking piss on an oval in Karratha. Who knew?

- Back to camp at 1am and now it's time for setting up tents. My tent actually- the boys had swags. We've all had a little too much to drink and are laughing like maniacs to keep the depression at bay (not really, but I thought I'd add some drama). My tent goes well until it comes time to put the top layer over and secure. I end up with the doorway on the left of the tent and no way in. Grrr. Start over.

- I decide that in this flat wilderness, I'd like to go pee. So I steal a lantern and wander off a million miles so that when I decide to squat and turn the light off, I'm far enough away for the camp lights not to reflect off my white butt. Apparently I'm standing an a slope and my shoelaces get wet... but that's nothing and I'll tell you why...

- Just as we're calling it a day, I'm inside my tent and Dom is getting ready for bed. Tim decides that he can't be fagged wondering anywhere to go pee, so he figures if the tent flap is closed and I can't see, it doesn't count. Wrong. Guess whose swag is in front of my tent? Guess whose swag now smells like pee? Hehehe. Poor boy. He will never live it down.

5:35 PM - 6 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

The Power of Two
Current mood: lonely
Category: Life

Before you get all excited, this isn't my usual blog. For my regulars, well I'm sure you'll forgive me for blabbering on, but if you choose to wait for my funnies to return and skip this I'll forgive you just this once. See, I've been away from the computer and off writing in recent weeks (oh, you noticed?) and here's why. I've just been through quite a difficult break up. Don't get me wrong- we did it for the right reasons and I still love him with all my heart, but we just weren't right for the here and now. We were just drifting, together, but not really together. It was too easy to stay in that neat little rut we'd tucked ourselves into rather than realise that things could be better. We could be happier. So, we bit the bullet a few weeks back and started to walk our own ways…

It's amazing how empowered you feel when there's just you to think about. You can be who you want, eat what you want, do what you want and speak to whomever you please. You find your own friends and make your own way there. It's great to not have anyone else to answer to. Isn't it? 

Only… just lately, I've been laying awake at night and wondering why, in all this new-found freedom and opportunity, I'm still dreaming of the number two. All the best things in life happen to revolve around that magical number. Dates, phonecalls, kisses, cuddles, holding hands, sharing the 'look'. I crave all that stuff. I want all that stuff and damn it, I deserve all that stuff too. I want my cake and I want to eat it. Why is alone so lonely when you're constantly surrounded by friends? Why do I feel so incomplete without my someone around? Why, when I stretch out on my bed in the morning, do I feel like the only thing I want to do is bump into him and know that my morning cuddle is on the way?

I guess it all comes down to my inner need to feel like I belong. To someone, to something… I'm not sure what, and it scares the hell out of me!

All these questions and confusion. 

Tell me, in your experience people, is it better to be alone or is it ok to constantly be looking for 'the one'?

Currently listening : Single By Natasha Bedingfield Release date: 17 August, 2004

5:50 PM - 4 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment

The Monday Morning Freight Train
Category: Life

I went home sick today. It's something I do so very rarely, it actually felt really awkward to ask my boss for it. Weird huh?

My head was jack hammering away at me and I've got this vein near my right temple that actually throbs when I get migranes. It was massive today and pulsating. Pulsating I tell you!

So, I called the boss and said I was going home. A little more work, a EOM report filed and I was home free. Now to get home without crashing! The light was blinding and my poor head was spinning. Pain-killers, pain-killers.

Oh, forget it. Just shoot me.

Bed was bliss, but now I've woken up with a sore throat and stiff neck. Can my day get any worse? I think this just may be the worst case of Monday-itis I've ever had.

Sadly, it wasn't alcohol induced. What do I mean sadly? I mean Gladly. Yes. I'm NOT an alcoholic, I just impersonate one occassionally.

But rest assured, if it were a hangover, I would have gritted the teeth and bore it. I would totally have deserved it. Yeah.

Ok. The computer is hurting my eyes again, so I'm off for more painkillers, a bath and another 5 hours of nanna-napping.

Go me.

4:00 AM - 5 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Meet my Baby!
Category: Pets and Animals

Good morning all. Just thought I would share the wonderful news that my search for the perfect Chihuahua baby is over. I've found her!



Isn't she lovely?

She's only 8 weeks old, so I have to wait another month before she's allowed to come home with me, but I am EXCITED!

I'm calling her Gaetana (it's Hindu for 'Little Gypsy'). Tahni for short. What do you think?

Ciao!

7:03 PM - 13 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

Pet Peeves 101
Current mood: aggravated
Category: Life

You know, sometimes I look around and realise (much to my utter horror) that I'm the only sane person in the place. You know what else? It seems to be happening all too often lately and I've decided that either it's just me getting older and more irritable, or it's the rest of the world going bonkers. I'd prefer to remain sane, so I'm going with option number two.

With this in mind, I've devised a list of all the things that drive me insane in my day to day life. The way I figure it, if I can let just one person know never EVER to do this again, I'll be contributing to at least a few other people's sanity. 

So here it goes:

Random drive by honkings. I don't know what you hope to achieve by doing this, whether it's just a random, Gee, I wonder if my horn is working right now? or because you think that maybe I'll hear your mating call and have the realisation that you're the one and decide to bolt after your car in the hope that you'll stop and marry me and have little Kirsty babies…. But seriously, you'd have to question the mental state of any woman who would come running after your car following a random Honk. Would you stop??? I think not. Besides, if she's anything like me, she'll be sure to take your plate number and key your car next time she sees it parked at the shops. Nobody likes to be treated like a $2 peep show buddy. Don't do it.

Cutting in cue. Anywhere. Honestly, who do you think you are? Don't pretend you can't see me and don't think that just because we don't make eye-contact that I can't see you. I'm onto you and am likely chew your ankles off. Case in point: I was standing in the chemist yesterday waiting for my Prozac and this woman sidles up next to me, glances sideways at me, then shuffles herself just a little bit forward. So I move forward to assert that this was my spot in the line and that I was indeed first. Next thing you know, the sales person is calling 'next' and the lady's vaulting to the counter like it's a ninety nine cent sale at the Holden shop. All I can say is that she's lucky I wasn't there collecting anti-pyschotics or I might have done her some real damage. (Daft Cow!)

People who 'bump' with their trolleys. Just because I'm standing in line with my little basket, rather than a trolley full of goods to defend myself with, it doesn't give you the right to assume you have the right to the full service checkout before me. If I've got more than 12 items in there, I'll do the right thing and not hold up the express counter. Shoving me will NOT get you there sooner. It will in fact make me piddle fart around at the counter, deciding that I wanted two milks, not one (silly me), or that I'm not sure which card I'm paying with, so hey, let's try them all….

Tail-gating. I'm a big fan of the speed limit and it's not my fault if you aren't. Similarly, it's not my fault if you cannot manage your time sufficiently and are running late. I don't care if it pisses you off, having to sit behind someone who prefers to stay on the right side of the law- you can just deal with it. But don't you dare tail-gate me or flip me the bird when you finally decide to pass me because I'm doing the right thing. You're the moron, not me.

The proverbial 'handbag'. We've all got one- the friend who always says 'yes, I'll be there', but rarely ever shows. If you don't want to go, I won't force you. I won't drive wedges of wood under your fingernails if you don't find my barbecue a fascinating enough affair to involve yourself in. Just be honest and I'm sure I'll get over it. Better yet, I'll find myself some real friends who are genuinely interested and you'll be left in the dark. We're friends because I care about you, but the road goes both ways. Try harder.

McDonalds drive through service. I can count on one hand how many times I've been through the drive through and the frozen coke hasn't been on a defrost cycle… As for the times it has… well, I'd need both hands and feet and probably yours too. Furthermore, their cleanliness leaves much to be desired. We went a couple of months ago to get some eats and while waiting for our food, we spotted a little tacker (maybe 14 yrs) having a good dig in his backside. Right. There. In. Front. Of. Everyone. He then went to pack fries. When I mentioned this to his manager (another teenager), he said it was ok because his hand was on the outside of his pants? Are you kidding me McDonalds? What? Needless to say, I don't eat there anymore.

I'm sure there's more, but I think that's enough negativity for my day.

How about you? What are your pet peeves?

Currently reading : Chihuahuas for Dummies

9:25 PM - 17 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment

Dude, your grandma's HOT!
Category: Parties and Nightlife

Oh wow. I mean, OW.

My head hurts soooooo freaking much, my voice is non-existant and my toes... I've only just finished scouring the last of the 'trod marks' from them. I swear, it sucks to be a short person when you go out- every drunken bastard has their turn at stomping on you. Never fun.

But onto my [big] night.

I'm usually a right grandma where drinking is concerned. I've had my day. I was young. I went out all night, returning home with the light and vomited all day becuase of mixing drinks, or NOT mixing drinks-sometimes the drinks didn't really discriminate- they just decided that my body wasn't the right vessel and wanted to evacuate. Now.

So I've been there and done that. I'm now just contented to drink at home and stop when it's no longer fun. (Yes, it happens, even though most of you will be wondering what kind of sick and twisted person EVER thinks that drinking is not fun). But you know, my kidneys have long been giving me the hint that my drinking is NOT ok, and I've grown excessively tired of the day after the not-so-big-to-justify-this-horror night before. I've been in hospital this year after just five drinks, not mixed overly strong.

I am fast becoming known in my circle of friends as the grandma. I'll go to a party/pub/social function, drink a few, spin a few yarns and be in bed by 12 most nights. Not really all that good considering my other half is an absolute Trojan, is a year older than me and STILL comes home with the sun on most drinking nights.

But last night, I was visited by the drinking fairy. We went round to a friend's house at 8pm and had a few drinks, played some table tennis (which, sadly I've lost my knack for- which only serves to remind me to visit them more often to re-hone my world class talent) and spun a few yarns. It was great. Then out came the Jagermeister.

Now, Jager and I have a love hate relationship. I love to drink it, but hate what it usually causes to come screeching from my bowls later in the night. I love red bull, I love how Jager-Bombs slide down and give you the warm and fuzzies. Oh, you get the point. Well, I got hit up and the Jager got tossed down. I was fine.

I waited a few seconds.

I was NOT fine. So I sped down to the toilets and spat a little until my tummy stopped heaving. I'll tell you right here and now, the only feeling worse than heaving, is heaving and NOT vomiting. So, I went back out. They were pouring the next round. Thank you, down the hatch. Chaser? OK. Another? Sure!

Four Jagers and about five other drinks later, I'm calling a taxi.... but not going home. No. It's the pub for me.

Several more drinks  later, I'm in the bathroom doing a picasso puke. There's broccoli, cheese sauce, crackers and steak everywhere. I think I even managed to land some on the back of the seat. So freaking gross. In the heat of the moment, I ended up leaning my head on what I thought to be my hands, but was really the seat, and was rewarded with a thick orange line of puke across my forehead. Highlight of the night, I tell you.

Then it was back out for more. What was I thinking? But pretty soon, it's closing time and I'm in the taxi. Heading home? Hell no. It's back to the party, which is still in full swing. But fear not. My friend, the hostess, takes one look at me and I'm put promptly on the cordial. Haha. We stay for about an hour or two more, then make a mosey.

Which leads me here. Feeling very sorry for myself, sipping on my third green tea (and alternating with the gastrolytes) and wondering what on Earth happened to grandma???

Apparently there's another party tonight. Shall I go?

I say NAY!

Currently listening : Supermassive Black Hole By Muse Release date: 22 June, 2006

1:38 AM - 9 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment

Unemotional Wreck
Current mood: apathetic

I came to a realisation today and it is this: I am a rock.

I guess I've always known it, but it only just became blindingly obvious the other day when my housemate told me her dad had a stroke. 

My housemate and I are close. We talk about and share everything- space, food, everything (except boys- I'm not good at sharing those!). So when something happens in her family, I know about it pretty much straight away. Anyway, she came home the other night, in obvious distress and told me what happened and that she was getting on the plane the next day to be with him, and all I could say (oh the horror) was 'Wow. That sucks hey. I'm sure he'll be fine though.'

Well, I could have just slapped myself. Of course, I felt bad inside for her, but it just seems that my emotions don't surface easily for expression. I'm very very bad like that.

I've never cried at the movies, or while watching soapies. I didn't cry at my own sister's wedding for heaven's sakes. I don't yell when I'm so angry inside that I feel like I could burst. I don't try to correct behaviour by telling someone that they're frustrating me or doing something wrong- I try to lead by example. I'll even take it to the point where if I'm angry at someone and need to say something, I'll actually avoid them until I feel better/calmer. But you know, sometimes it doesn't work and I end up this seething bundle of emotions that I don't quite know what to do with. 

I'll walk around like this big rolling snowball until one day, something really little will happen and I explode. I find a quiet spot (like the shower) and just let loose- I cry until there's nothing left and only then does the weight seem to lift. A few times, much to my utter embarrassment, I've broken down in front of my boy and I swear it's the most uncomfortable feeling ever. But do you know what? It shouldn't be! I should be able to express myself when and how I need to. I just don't know how. 

I'm sure I'm not the only one, but I just thought I'd write about it because it's been on my mind a lot lately and I've been worrying. 

With other breaking news…. My finger hurts. The one I snapped the nail on with the wakeboard lead rope. I had it fixed, and I've since painted it, so I can't see if there is any bruising, but it's really sore and I'm tempted to remove the paint to see if it's just me imagining stuff. Hope it stops soon- it's still hurting to type.
:-(

Oh, and I'm going to go sky-diving later on in the month with my mum. I want to get it taped, but it's really expensive, so I'm not sure if we'll do that or if I'll just ask my dad to tape us landing on the ground. We'll see.

Until next time!

Currently listening : Nobody Knows By Pink Release date: 18 January, 2007

8:11 PM - 9 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

I can't scratch!
Category: Life

Oh GOD!!!

I can't scratch. I have these massive, carefully manicured nails. Perfect in every way really, if you don't count the blow out I had on the weekend which I am having to subsequently fix today....Except for that I can't scratch.

Can anyone else see the irony in this? They're long. They look sharp, but do you think I can get any relief? No. They're so darn thick, there's just no edge to em. It's like rubbing yourself down with a miniature plastic brick with smooth corners. What's the point???

And I've discovered I can no longer pick at my pimples after my shower. Yes. I fart and I pick my own pimples. Ok, so I never claimed to be a lady, but I'm sure the blokes all know exactly how frustrated I am.

I wonder how long the itch urge stays for anyway? Can I wait it out, or will I be caught out rubbing myself down on the carpet at work?

Stay tuned.

6:11 PM - 8 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment