Isn’t it weird that read (as in go read that- future tense) and read (as in I already read that – past tense) are spelt the same? It’s like when you look at a word for too long and you’re like fork can’t just be four letters. It’s deceiving me!
Anyhow, I’ve decided to start up a weekly section called what I read this week (actually I’ve changed it. That was too boring). I read at least one book a week, and even if it’s as boring as crap for you, at least it can advise you not to read the stuff I’m reading. And trust me; I have no shame when it comes to reading crappy books. I own the complete Princess Diaries and I’m proud of it. I may even name my daughter Mia.
This week I started out with The Distant Hours by Kate Moreton. Kate is actually a family friend so it’s interesting to read her books and pick up little personal references. This is her third book and I think the best. I read it in one afternoon and was hooked from the beginning. It skillfully weaves the narratives of three sisters and a history hunting daughter and is full of mystery and family secrets. Kick-ass book Kate! She should totally put this review on her back cover.
My next book was The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett, the amazing author of A Little Princess (which is not to be confused with The Princess Diaries, although clearly I have a thing for princesses). I’ve read this before but only just found a copy to keep and was inspired by a Vixen Vintage post on the movie. It’s also kick-ass- full of ugly sour girls and bitchy cripples and a total babe called Dickon (imagine him having that name now. Poor bastard. I actually interviewed a teenager whose last name was Dickfrost recently. Sucks to be him). Is it wrong to be crushing on a 12-year-old? Well yes, but he had a lot of animals and I’m a sucker for animals.
Third book was So Much To Tell You by John Marsden, best known for the Tomorrow When The War Began series. This was his first published book and it’s amazing. The book is the journal of a girl who no longer speaks after a horrific accident involving her father. John doesn’t spell out the accident, the results or the situation but lets the reader uncover it.
Next on the agenda – Sleepers by Lorenzo Carcaterra. I read it several years ago but can’t remember much of it. It is an autobiography of sorts, about when Lorenzo and three mates accidently kill someone in a prank, go to boys reformatory and then become hardened criminals themselves after being abused by the guards. Eventually the boys grow into men and shoot their tormentor in a crowded bar decades later, than stand trial for the murder.
Anybody got any more recommendations for me?
Thursday, January 6, 2011
I’m pretty sure my body runs best on cheese and cheese flavored snacks
So, as the day of doom approaches (or if we’re being traditional, the wedding), I had to start a diet. Since meeting That Dude I’m Going to Marry I have steadily put on weight as try and match his impressive eating habits.
Turns out, when he was younger he had part of his gall bladder removed and now food essentially goes in one end and out the other. Whereas with me, it goes in one end and then attaches itself to my thighs. F you food.
Below is a photo of my boyfriend. Amazingly I have captured his speech with my camera!
Ok, you got me. It’s Gumby.
Anyway, since I have put on 15 kilos in the 4 years we’ve been together, I really need to do something about this before the wedding. And not just because I’m festively plump, but because I am really unhealthy. I tried to help carry a pretty light TV up the one lot of stairs to our house the other day and stopped breathing on the fifth step. So to fix this I did two things – took up Bikram yoga and went on a diet.
First up, Bikram yoga is effing extreme. It is sweating in a room of 40 degrees (105 if you’re in America) or higher, with 40 per cent humidity, holding poses that basically hurt for 90 mins. People are known to vomit, pass out, cry or literally CRAP THEIR PANTS. I did none of these things because I am a tank.
This video makes it seem like there was a lot of babes sweating sexily to porno music. There is a lot of babes but it turns out, no one sweats sexily.
Now the second part of my master plan – eat well. And I did. I ate mainly vegetables, some turkey and tuna, small amounts of dairy. This may not sound like much, but my typical diet is:
Breakfast – left over pizza from dominos, glass of coke
Lunch (which stretches over the entire work day for me) – packet of Twisties (big), several glasses of coke. Usually sushi or something for the main meal, but not the healthy kinds, the tempura fried, wrapped in egg kind. Or as I like to call it, the good kind. Oh, and at least one Mars Bar
Dinner: more coke, usually steak, some form of potato, a few token veges and a rich creamy sauce.
Sounds like heaven right? Well, after going to Bikram yoga five days a week for five weeks and sticking to my diet of veges, water and lean meat. I lost approximately -2 kilos. That’s right, I gained weight. And don’t give that muscle weighs more than fat crap because I measured myself and I was bigger.
OH AND I GOT A RASH. A big, allergy rash all over my neck and chest that I had to take pills for.
I am allergic to being healthy. My body wants coke, cheese, bread and bacon.
I’m off to combine those ingredients into a sandwich.
Turns out, when he was younger he had part of his gall bladder removed and now food essentially goes in one end and out the other. Whereas with me, it goes in one end and then attaches itself to my thighs. F you food.
Below is a photo of my boyfriend. Amazingly I have captured his speech with my camera!
Ok, you got me. It’s Gumby.
Anyway, since I have put on 15 kilos in the 4 years we’ve been together, I really need to do something about this before the wedding. And not just because I’m festively plump, but because I am really unhealthy. I tried to help carry a pretty light TV up the one lot of stairs to our house the other day and stopped breathing on the fifth step. So to fix this I did two things – took up Bikram yoga and went on a diet.
First up, Bikram yoga is effing extreme. It is sweating in a room of 40 degrees (105 if you’re in America) or higher, with 40 per cent humidity, holding poses that basically hurt for 90 mins. People are known to vomit, pass out, cry or literally CRAP THEIR PANTS. I did none of these things because I am a tank.
This video makes it seem like there was a lot of babes sweating sexily to porno music. There is a lot of babes but it turns out, no one sweats sexily.
Now the second part of my master plan – eat well. And I did. I ate mainly vegetables, some turkey and tuna, small amounts of dairy. This may not sound like much, but my typical diet is:
Breakfast – left over pizza from dominos, glass of coke
Lunch (which stretches over the entire work day for me) – packet of Twisties (big), several glasses of coke. Usually sushi or something for the main meal, but not the healthy kinds, the tempura fried, wrapped in egg kind. Or as I like to call it, the good kind. Oh, and at least one Mars Bar
Dinner: more coke, usually steak, some form of potato, a few token veges and a rich creamy sauce.
Sounds like heaven right? Well, after going to Bikram yoga five days a week for five weeks and sticking to my diet of veges, water and lean meat. I lost approximately -2 kilos. That’s right, I gained weight. And don’t give that muscle weighs more than fat crap because I measured myself and I was bigger.
OH AND I GOT A RASH. A big, allergy rash all over my neck and chest that I had to take pills for.
I am allergic to being healthy. My body wants coke, cheese, bread and bacon.
I’m off to combine those ingredients into a sandwich.
This blog she is a-changing (best sung to the tune of These Boots Are Made For Walking)
So – you may have noticed for a while there that I stopped blogging. There are several reasons for this:
a) My computer died. Too much midget porn, according to my buddy who fixed it (I paid him in Cherry Ripe cup cakes and donkey porn)
b) I developed a life. Well, not really, but I did get a whole heap of new books and reading is my favorite thing to do, and we had some family issues and I’ve got this mother-flipping wedding to plan and I took up Bikram yoga ( a post on that soon) and then gave it up again cause it was so pricey.
c) My camera is a P.O.S and I can’t take any decent photos with it and finally
d) I just wasn’t feeling the theme anymore. Really – I love zombies, I love vintage, but confining myself to a particular genre (coming soon to a library near you!) was too limiting. Most of my conversations come back to zombies anyway but when I feel like I have to they just don’t. And my previous posts have been less than amusing, for sure.
So now this blog will be about whatever I feel like. Oh, the crap I’m going to write….
No seriously. It’ll be crap. My apologies in advance.
a) My computer died. Too much midget porn, according to my buddy who fixed it (I paid him in Cherry Ripe cup cakes and donkey porn)
b) I developed a life. Well, not really, but I did get a whole heap of new books and reading is my favorite thing to do, and we had some family issues and I’ve got this mother-flipping wedding to plan and I took up Bikram yoga ( a post on that soon) and then gave it up again cause it was so pricey.
c) My camera is a P.O.S and I can’t take any decent photos with it and finally
d) I just wasn’t feeling the theme anymore. Really – I love zombies, I love vintage, but confining myself to a particular genre (coming soon to a library near you!) was too limiting. Most of my conversations come back to zombies anyway but when I feel like I have to they just don’t. And my previous posts have been less than amusing, for sure.
So now this blog will be about whatever I feel like. Oh, the crap I’m going to write….
No seriously. It’ll be crap. My apologies in advance.
Today I nearly died, but I’m pretty sure some old ladies just thought I was joy riding and tut tutted at me.
Today I nearly died, but I’m pretty sure some old ladies just thought I was joy riding and tut tutted at me.
No seriously, it has been pouring rain in Brissie all day and while going through the rabbit warren, round-a-bout ridden hell that is the place that I work (let’s call it Smorth Shmakes), my car spun out. I wasn’t speeding, I was just singing along to Regina Spektor while driving through the round-a-bout when WHAMMO I was facing the wrong way. If some one had been behind me it would have become a head on collision.
Some cars coming the other way paused for a second then drove on around me. While I was all “Holy fudgepacker, I just did that thing they do in the Blues Brothers when they park a car and am I even alive?”.
That’s right, near death experiences make me think of the Blues Brothers. Then I drove the wrong way up a road so I could U-turn and get to my interview on time. Because I am a mother-effin professional. And on the way home I did 80 in a 100 zone and five billion trucks passed me and I didn’t care because I was so scared still.
People who get back in cars after serious crashes are amazingly brave.
But the most annoying part about this near death experience is the other motorists seriously seemed to think I was joy riding or hooning or something. And I can guarantee that at least one of them will write a letter to the editor to MY paper about kids these days and probably give out my license plate number. Old people suck (except you Grandma).
No seriously, it has been pouring rain in Brissie all day and while going through the rabbit warren, round-a-bout ridden hell that is the place that I work (let’s call it Smorth Shmakes), my car spun out. I wasn’t speeding, I was just singing along to Regina Spektor while driving through the round-a-bout when WHAMMO I was facing the wrong way. If some one had been behind me it would have become a head on collision.
Some cars coming the other way paused for a second then drove on around me. While I was all “Holy fudgepacker, I just did that thing they do in the Blues Brothers when they park a car and am I even alive?”.
That’s right, near death experiences make me think of the Blues Brothers. Then I drove the wrong way up a road so I could U-turn and get to my interview on time. Because I am a mother-effin professional. And on the way home I did 80 in a 100 zone and five billion trucks passed me and I didn’t care because I was so scared still.
People who get back in cars after serious crashes are amazingly brave.
But the most annoying part about this near death experience is the other motorists seriously seemed to think I was joy riding or hooning or something. And I can guarantee that at least one of them will write a letter to the editor to MY paper about kids these days and probably give out my license plate number. Old people suck (except you Grandma).
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Beautiful etsy finds
I have an addiction to online shopping. Sadly I don't have the budget for it, but still every now and then I treat myself to some treasures.
The upside of this is when you get beautiful items and discover an excellent new seller.
Etsy seller http://www.etsy.com/shop/merchantofkismet is awesome.
Check out how my goodies came wrapped:
Apologies for the blurriness but so pretty! I was expecting maybe a plastic bag but it's like getting a present.
Here are my beautiful buys:
I got a pretty diamante bow brooch, a pearl and lavender string necklace and pretty white flower clip on earrings (I use them as shoe and dress clips).
Unfortunately when zpoc hits these will be useless but it's important to enjoy the finer things in life while you can.
The upside of this is when you get beautiful items and discover an excellent new seller.
Etsy seller http://www.etsy.com/shop/merchantofkismet is awesome.
Check out how my goodies came wrapped:
Apologies for the blurriness but so pretty! I was expecting maybe a plastic bag but it's like getting a present.
Here are my beautiful buys:
I got a pretty diamante bow brooch, a pearl and lavender string necklace and pretty white flower clip on earrings (I use them as shoe and dress clips).
Unfortunately when zpoc hits these will be useless but it's important to enjoy the finer things in life while you can.
My dog is cheating on me with construction workers
I am a sucker for animals. If it's not human but still breathing I love it. As a result of this, I have three dogs that no one in their right mind would have chosen.
Dash is the original of these. She is a little Kelpie cross Lab cross Collie. When That Dude I'm Marrying and my roommate finally gave in to my request to adopt a dog about two years ago, had they know Dash would be the result, we'd have driven in the opposite direction. Maybe even moved internationally.
This is the cause of the trouble:
When we went to the Animal Welfare League we wanted to get a puppy but were unable because we weren't home enough for one. Dash was listed as Pet of the Week- she was on special and had been there for months as a stray. No one wanted her. I looked through the wire cage and she stared back at me. The boys told me not to touch her, that I couldn't go petting dogs through fences and if I touched her we'd have to get her. It was too late. I was patting her. We named her Dash for ability to run really, really fast.
We soon learned another thing about Dash. She can jump anything. Like, me, and I'm 6 foot. Fences were a joke to her. And tying her up? Also a joke. She just chews through. If she doesn't chew through it, she rolls in her own poo to punish you for punishing her. And another thing? She really enjoys barking. At anything. She has small dog syndrome and must constantly assert her authority over everything. An ant, the mail man, a mother pushing a pram. Basically she's the worst dog ever. She is so accident prone that she's spent as much of her three year life wearing a cone around her head to stop her biting her stitches as she's spent without it.
This is her with a dinosaur bone from a T-rex she took down earlier.
She once got bit by a flesh eating spider and nearly turned into a zombie dog. Seriously, her leg turned green.
Anyway, the worst thing about Dash is her love of people. That little bitch waits till we're merrily off at work for the day and jumps the fence. In the afternoon the only sign she's been out for the day is meat pie wrappers in the yard, a mysterious ball no one bought her and the occasional surprise bone. She's been spotted hanging out at construction sites, service stations and the train station.
Dash now has a second family at the industrial estate across the road. One day, while frantic with worry searching for her, I wandered from workshop to workshop asking if they'd seen a little black dog.
"Oh Dash, yeah she was here this morning... should be at the smash repairs shop about now."
"Yup, little Dash usually come around at smoko - that's her spot."
I look and see a bowl of water in a shady corner. The ungrateful thing has been cheating on us, bumming food off tradies. Apparently she even does tricks for them! They all know her name from her tag but have given up calling us because they just see her jump back home before we show up in the afternoons.
Dog of the Week my arse.
Oh, but how can I resist this?
Dash is the original of these. She is a little Kelpie cross Lab cross Collie. When That Dude I'm Marrying and my roommate finally gave in to my request to adopt a dog about two years ago, had they know Dash would be the result, we'd have driven in the opposite direction. Maybe even moved internationally.
This is the cause of the trouble:
When we went to the Animal Welfare League we wanted to get a puppy but were unable because we weren't home enough for one. Dash was listed as Pet of the Week- she was on special and had been there for months as a stray. No one wanted her. I looked through the wire cage and she stared back at me. The boys told me not to touch her, that I couldn't go petting dogs through fences and if I touched her we'd have to get her. It was too late. I was patting her. We named her Dash for ability to run really, really fast.
We soon learned another thing about Dash. She can jump anything. Like, me, and I'm 6 foot. Fences were a joke to her. And tying her up? Also a joke. She just chews through. If she doesn't chew through it, she rolls in her own poo to punish you for punishing her. And another thing? She really enjoys barking. At anything. She has small dog syndrome and must constantly assert her authority over everything. An ant, the mail man, a mother pushing a pram. Basically she's the worst dog ever. She is so accident prone that she's spent as much of her three year life wearing a cone around her head to stop her biting her stitches as she's spent without it.
This is her with a dinosaur bone from a T-rex she took down earlier.
She once got bit by a flesh eating spider and nearly turned into a zombie dog. Seriously, her leg turned green.
Anyway, the worst thing about Dash is her love of people. That little bitch waits till we're merrily off at work for the day and jumps the fence. In the afternoon the only sign she's been out for the day is meat pie wrappers in the yard, a mysterious ball no one bought her and the occasional surprise bone. She's been spotted hanging out at construction sites, service stations and the train station.
Dash now has a second family at the industrial estate across the road. One day, while frantic with worry searching for her, I wandered from workshop to workshop asking if they'd seen a little black dog.
"Oh Dash, yeah she was here this morning... should be at the smash repairs shop about now."
"Yup, little Dash usually come around at smoko - that's her spot."
I look and see a bowl of water in a shady corner. The ungrateful thing has been cheating on us, bumming food off tradies. Apparently she even does tricks for them! They all know her name from her tag but have given up calling us because they just see her jump back home before we show up in the afternoons.
Dog of the Week my arse.
Oh, but how can I resist this?
I am patient zero
I have been in the ugly clutches of the flu for the past few months.
It comes for a few days, I fend it off with drugs and eating everything orange in sight, then I forget, go outside at night and WHAMMO. It gets me again.
I look so horrible and am so snotty and mucusy that I struggle to breath. I can't sleep because if I doze off I forget to hack and snort and inhale. This has resulted in pasty, sweaty skin, dark circles under my bloodshot eyes and basically the air of a decomposing person. I am patient X, where it all began, and there is a good chance I will soon switch to eating human flesh, zombie like, as the mucus consumes my brain.
I look a little like this:
Again, thanks wiki! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Zombie_costume_portrait.jpg
Naturally, the day when I go into work and don't even try to attempt to cover my hideousness with makeup is the day the photographers decide to take new photos off all journos for our photo bylines.
Let me explain - I work as a journalist for a couple of community newspapers - on the index page and along the top of some pages, they run 1/2 photos of the writer - from waist to to of head.
I looked like hell. I not changed my hair from the rough bun I had slept in. I was wearing the clothes nearest to my bed and they were un-ironed and stained. I had not even washed my face. The photographer winced when I smiled. When I removed my bright pink raver sunglasses he shuddered. When he looked took the photo I think he just aimed roughly and hit the button. The results were as good as could be expected.
On the upside, residents have stopped calling me asking me to cover their stories. They obviously value their lives.
It comes for a few days, I fend it off with drugs and eating everything orange in sight, then I forget, go outside at night and WHAMMO. It gets me again.
I look so horrible and am so snotty and mucusy that I struggle to breath. I can't sleep because if I doze off I forget to hack and snort and inhale. This has resulted in pasty, sweaty skin, dark circles under my bloodshot eyes and basically the air of a decomposing person. I am patient X, where it all began, and there is a good chance I will soon switch to eating human flesh, zombie like, as the mucus consumes my brain.
I look a little like this:
Again, thanks wiki! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Zombie_costume_portrait.jpg
Naturally, the day when I go into work and don't even try to attempt to cover my hideousness with makeup is the day the photographers decide to take new photos off all journos for our photo bylines.
Let me explain - I work as a journalist for a couple of community newspapers - on the index page and along the top of some pages, they run 1/2 photos of the writer - from waist to to of head.
I looked like hell. I not changed my hair from the rough bun I had slept in. I was wearing the clothes nearest to my bed and they were un-ironed and stained. I had not even washed my face. The photographer winced when I smiled. When I removed my bright pink raver sunglasses he shuddered. When he looked took the photo I think he just aimed roughly and hit the button. The results were as good as could be expected.
On the upside, residents have stopped calling me asking me to cover their stories. They obviously value their lives.
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