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).
Thursday, January 6, 2011
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.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Dear computer, we used to be such good buds. Why would you do this to me?
My computer has selfishly decided to take a time out from our relationship, which is why all has been quite on the interwebs lately.
The computer has been making amazing grinding sounds for several months, and if I don't hold it exactly right the screen dies.
Sometimes is makes ascending whirring noises like it's about to take off.
Finally it just stopped turning on, so I've sent it to be fixed, but there is a good chance it's now dead to me. Which means future updates will be typo-ridden and from my iphone (why does it predictive text the world's most stupid words? Its should NEVER be changed to IRS) or ffrom my roomie's stolen laptop while they sleep.
In other news, I've decide to visit Melbourne this September (yay tax return!). Any suggestions on what to see/do?
The computer has been making amazing grinding sounds for several months, and if I don't hold it exactly right the screen dies.
Sometimes is makes ascending whirring noises like it's about to take off.
Finally it just stopped turning on, so I've sent it to be fixed, but there is a good chance it's now dead to me. Which means future updates will be typo-ridden and from my iphone (why does it predictive text the world's most stupid words? Its should NEVER be changed to IRS) or ffrom my roomie's stolen laptop while they sleep.
In other news, I've decide to visit Melbourne this September (yay tax return!). Any suggestions on what to see/do?
Thursday, August 5, 2010
A Tax Haiku
According to www.wikipedia.org: Haiku (俳句, haikai verse?) listen (help·info), plural haiku, is a form of Japanese poetry, consisting of 17 moras (or on), in three phrases of 5, 7, and 5 moras respectively.[1] Although haiku are often stated to have 17 syllables,[2] this is inaccurate as syllables and moras are not the same. Haiku typically contain a kigo (seasonal reference), and a kireji (cutting word).
The world rushes on
but my tax return stays still. In
my head I've spent you
Well, I did get all confused with my syllabals and my moras (something which I'd mastered in 7th grade Japanese, so this haiku experiemnet is further proof that I am getting dumber as I get older), but I think I mainly got it. There are definately some cutting words.
The world rushes on
but my tax return stays still. In
my head I've spent you
Well, I did get all confused with my syllabals and my moras (something which I'd mastered in 7th grade Japanese, so this haiku experiemnet is further proof that I am getting dumber as I get older), but I think I mainly got it. There are definately some cutting words.
A ghetto ode to my tax return
Bitch - where you at? My shizzle don't pay for itself. It's been three weeks. Deposit yourself or Ima have to bust a cap in yo ass. Word.
Looking back I should have tried to write the word crunk in there, but I can't seem to fit it.
It's been three weeks since I lodged my tax return and I have already spent it six times in my head. Realistically I will put it on my credit card, but in today's dream i will instead travel to the Tim Burton exhibit in Melbourne.
So until you make nice with my bank account and move in tax return, I will post a poem about you each day. And there is a reason I am not the next Shakespeare.
Prepare yourself. Dope, word, crunk etc.
Looking back I should have tried to write the word crunk in there, but I can't seem to fit it.
It's been three weeks since I lodged my tax return and I have already spent it six times in my head. Realistically I will put it on my credit card, but in today's dream i will instead travel to the Tim Burton exhibit in Melbourne.
So until you make nice with my bank account and move in tax return, I will post a poem about you each day. And there is a reason I am not the next Shakespeare.
Prepare yourself. Dope, word, crunk etc.
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