Friday, September 29, 2006

Lotto hopes dashed…every other week

When the lotto prize reaches above about 9 million dollars, my husband HAS to buy a lotto ticket. After he has bought one, or I have bought one for him, he then sits down and proceeds to list all the things we can do when we win the lotto. Like first we will go on a holiday, then we will buy a house, a new car, take the family to China for the Olympics. All good stuff! The thing is that I have never really been into the lotto; my family aren’t big lotto ticket people. Hence I don’t really see the excitement in buying a piece of paper for 10-15 dollars and then hoping, that out of the millions of people who have also bought a ticket that we will win. Maybe I am a realist but I don’t really think that the chances of winning are that high, at all! But as he says, you have to be in it to win it!

After our discussion of all the cool stuff that we will buy, do and experience I must admit that I do get a bit excited. But I always have to pull myself back to reality and think hang on a sec, this is the lotto, the chances of winning anything are extremely low. After this discussion, I always feel like maybe our current lifestyle is not really good enough. L In reality it is! We are doing great for people in our early/mid twenties, we have minimal debt apart from our giant HECS debts, we own lots of shares, and we studied hard to get good jobs that we love doing, we are married and we are happy! What’s better than that? Well maybe a slightly higher salary would be nice, but we don’t really need to win lotto.

Last year I bought a lotto ticket for us and I won $40 (not much), but the next week I won $120. I caught the bug after that, but only for a week. I bought a ticket the week after that and then we won nothing. See I am happy to be committed to something as long as it is committed to me also! And Lotto YOU FAILED ME!

The only upside to buying a ticket for me is that at least I know I am contributing money to Lottery West. My hard earned Lotto ticket money is helping a lot of charities and community projects, which are funded by Lotto grants. Apart from the extremely distant possibility of winning, the fact that we are donating to a body that makes a difference in this community is the only reason I allow the hubby to keep buying them tickets.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Happy 100th Post!

Hello Peeps,

Happy 100th post! December last year I wrote my first post, and wondered whether it would be a good idea to even go down this path. But I have found this blog a huge release for frustrations, funny bits, questioning myself, and expelling some of my crazy into the world without creating irreparable damage.

So Happy 100th post and please enjoy the latest photos that I have posted on Flickr, preview on the right! See the rest here.


Friday, September 22, 2006

Serial Email Forwarders

I don’t know if ‘Forwarders’ is even a word, and I don’t know if you can tell that this is going to be a rant, about people who only send forwards instead of putting thought into writing something of actual use!

It was over 8 years ago that I received my first forward, initially they were a bit of fun, but it did not take long for the novelty to wear off! When you first got internet or email you were so excited that you actually had an email whether it was a forward or not, though after a little while you came to realise that the people sending them couldn’t actually be bothered writing you a proper email. Instead they sent you an email full of someone else’s photos, poems, warm fuzzy’s etc. Like that is supposed to make you feel good?! (*hands currently making obscene gestures*)

I actually have people who only send me forwards, no normal emails. No “Hi, how are you going? This is what I have been up to…”, only forwards, I repeat, ONLY FORWARDS! Am I not worthy of an actual email containing the contents of their own heads? I think this is the major reason that I hate forwards, they are sent instead of actual intelligent conversation. Imagine if we spammed each other in person! It would be like someone asking you how your day was, and then you sprouting information about a completely unrelated topic about someone else, or something else, along with some pictures of a dog hugging a cat. What would be funny is if you used those crappy forward quizzes to actually find out more about people in person! Even with people that you already know! “Hi, I have known you for years but what is your favourite ice cream flavour, what was the name of your first pet, and like, what are your four favourite movies of all time?!”

Mmm, are you all dying from the saturation of sarcasm in this post?

See, the thing is, that I see forwards like junk mail now, I pick it up from my letterbox and I stick it directly into the recycling bin, it doesn’t even make it into the house. If I see any email with fw: in front of it, you can be sure that I will delete, delete, and delete. Because they are useless trash, especially the ones with funny photos that I have seen a million times, or came out about 3 years go. Often the initiators of the forwards will only catch on about three years after something has first graced the internet.

After all that ranting, if a forwarded email does make it through, and I do open it, if it is good, I will still not forward it. Unless it is really, really really good (does not happen often), then I will write a short introduction, delete all of the crappy previous addresses that the email has been forwarded to, and personalise the email for the select few I am forwarding to.

This brings me to Forwarding Etiquette. If you cannot resist that urge inside you to forward, here are some useful tips for making your habit less dangerous to others:
  • Do not, I repeat, DO NOT forward crap forwards (this should bring you down to about the two worthy forward emails a year).
  • Do not forward those crap quizzes. They are long, boring and no one has time to do them. If you really think that you need to know more about your friends/family, call them on the phone and ask them questions, it’s quicker and more fun.
  • Do not just hit forward and leave 2000 lines of other people’s email addresses above the forward! Delete all but the essential information before you hit send. This way people will not have to scroll for ten minutes before they actually reach the forwarded contents, along the way being greeted by people’s “Haa Haa’s” and “Hee Hee’s‘.
  • Edit the top of the forward to meet and greet the people that you are sending it to, so they at least feel slightly like they are worthy of your words.
  • Do not select everyone in your address book and send the forward to them all. Believe me, your Grammy does not want to see the rude cartoons, and your macho hormonal brother does not want to see pictures of kittens.
  • Do not forward emails with explicit content to people’s work emails, unless you want to get them fired.

Aaah, I feel better already, all prepped to move forward into my email ‘fw:’ free, though inevitably with a letterbox full of junk mail.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

This make my ovaries turn

Dooce's Wednesday entry makes my ovaries turn over see it here.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Cheeseburger & Black Beetle Equals Eeewwww!

(Warning: if you are offended by people using the Lord's name in vain, do not read this post. Also if you don't like insects any where near cheeseburgers.)

Person A

Hey guess what?
I have the grossest story.
Trauma central!
I was at the gym Tuesday night, and I just changed into my exercise gear that I got off the line that morning. Anyway, all of a sudden, I feel this sting in my undies

Person B

Person A
I rushed to the toilet and there was a HUGE black beetle biting me!
I freaked!

Person B
Holy sh*t!

Person A
Almost vomited

Person B
Was it in your hamburger???
You know what I mean by hamburger right??

Person A
Haa haa haa, you're funny, and yes!
I was traumatised!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Person B
Oh my god!!!!!

Person A
I got shivers, up my spine.

Person B
That’s horrible!! I would have died!!!!

Person A
It must have come in from off the line.

Person B
I had a bug in my hair near my forehead today and I freaked
Ooops its actually cheeseburger, care of dooce:

“Most Anticipated Moment of 2003: When the ultrasound technician pointed at the monitor and said, “See that cheeseburger? That means it’s a girl.”

“My husband’s most memorable quote of 2003: “You’re going to have to teach our daughter about her cheeseburger.”

Person A
Haa haa haa haa haa haa haa aha, cheeseburger, haa haa haa.

Person B
Lol, cause it looks like a cheeseburger!

Person A
Oh my god, man, beetles freak me out!
I couldn't believe it.
I get chills just thinking about it.

Person B
You are going to have a whole cheeseburger/beetle complex now.
That sh*t is scary!
I would have cried.

Person A
Yeah, I almost dry retched

Person B
Oh god, that’s horrible, you poor thing. You will be scarred for life.

Person A
Oh well.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Pike'in It Up

Check this guy out, awesome tunes! The Middle of the Hill reminds me of when I was a kid, such a great collection of childhood memories, you can watch the video at this link. :)

Sunday, September 17, 2006


Just after my birthday I received a lovely birthday card, which I wrote about on this site. The card was from my Dad. In the card my Dad mentioned that I was entering into my 25th year. After I saw the 25, my initial reaction was to jump to the conclusion that he thought I was 25, after re-reading the card at a later date I realised that this wasn’t the case at all. Just that I was entering my 25th year, which actually is CORRECT!

Initially I didn’t bother writing a retraction about the 25 hoo haa, as no one in my family was reading my site. Until I foolishly thought that I could trust my 16 year old brothers. (*Note to Self: you love your brothers but they are not yet capable of keeping all of the secrets you might like them to) I just had a panicked call from my good ole Dad, saying that he was so sorry that I thought, that he thought that I was 25! He thought that I was offended because my Bro’s told him I had written about it on this site, which I had, but hadn’t corrected myself, until now.

So I stand corrected:
My Dad does not think I am 25
My brothers aren’t capable of keeping secrets just yet, but that is only natural for 16-year-old boys who get excited when they are telling stories!

Many more people now know about my website than I had initially anticipated, but I suppose that I am comfortable with that. After all, one of the reasons I started writing was so that people would read, why else would you publish written works on the Internet!

Welcome to the era of the public blog, these are exciting times! Like Dooce and many who have come before me, I have managed to upset someone close to me, my good ole Dad, who is a fantastic card writer, Volvo driver and loving and concerned parent.

Sorry Dad, love you Dad and loved your card.

Saturday, September 16, 2006

“I love you fart mouth”

Wife: I love you friend
Husband: Whoa, bad breath
Wife: Sorry
Husband: You ate eggs again didn’t you?
Wife: Yeh, for lunch, on toast.
Husband: When you eat eggs, and then breath on me its like you are farting in my face!
Wife: Mmm I love eggs.
Husband: Mmm I don’t like farts.
Wife: I love you friend
Husband: I love you fart mouth.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Spring is in the air, and my ovaries are alert!

I am sitting in a new café in South Perth, its sunny, and its spring. Finally! Spring is here! Yay! My ovaries are in over-drive as around me because all around me are pretty mummy’s and their baby’s/toddlers in the café, all taking their kids to the live play school show on a few blocks from here. D*mn you ovaries,! I am not ready for those urges. I am only 24! Though at 24 my mum has at least one child, possibly with the second on the way, aah the good old olden days, when getting married and popping out young-uns was the key to every woman’s success.

It will be 25 degrees today, sunny and perfect! Gotta love that time of the year when you can pop your washing out on the line and it’s dry in under an hour. Oh dear, did I just relate the beauty of spring to the fact that I can create maximum efficiency in my washing schedule?! I did…and one, two, three, I have turned into my mother. Although her ability to multi-task is something that everyone should aspire to.

So back to these spring ovarian motions. I always get freaked out when I see little kids, and I go oooh aaah. Because my brain is saying NOOOOO and my ovaries are saying YYEEESSS. What is it with this urge to procreate? It must be deeply imbedded in a woman’s psyche. I have heard rumours that a breastfeeding mothers actually get milk leakage from their br**sts when they see babies???!!!! Maybe I got that wrong, will have to Google it and confirm when I have more time.

I just wish I could switch the ovaries off for a while, till my brain has caught up with them. Its like looking at a car crash when I see little kids, you don’t want to look, but you can’t look away! You can’t stop yourself from looking at their little outfits, and their little shoes, and their little hands, little feet, big eyes. Oh Jesus, there I go again! Ovaries! Now you listen here! I am just not ready!

Thursday, September 14, 2006

My Hermit Neighbour

We have been living in our little unit for close to two years now and most of our neighbours we know, or at least wave to. Two of them even gave us cards when we got married. There is one neighbour in particular however who is like a hermit or something. She lives directly next door to us and I have seen her ONCE (yes really!), reversing out her driveway about 15 months ago, and since then, nothing.

The only reason I used to know that she existed was that her car would sometimes not be in the driveway, and then sometimes it would. Then it dawned on me that she must be a shift worker who works odd hours and that was why we never saw her. Problem solvered I thought!

About 5 months ago around the time we got married, the garden began to look a little shabby, and her ugly metal roller shuttered windows were always closed, and the car, it stared to stay permanently in the carport. I also started to get paid visits by her rather shabby looking cat, who sleeps in my garden beds, and mopes around my garden. The poor thing look decidedly underfed, its fur is really matted, and it looks severely underweight. It is from about that time on that we have come to know her as our strange hermit neighbour.

I also noticed that the only visitor she seemed to get was a green Hyundai Excel on Friday evenings, and sometimes on the weekend. It turns up and a decidedly butch looking lady gets out of it, and waddles inside. Now my husband and I have bets on whether our hermit neighbour will get a visit from her l*sbian lover or not each weekend. Cruel I know, but we are cruel, heartless w*nkers so it fits.

More recently the garden has turned into a forest of waist high weeds, in fact some of them are probably higher than my head (which is not hard, considering I am almost the shortest person in the world). There are also weeds in the driveway, also waist high, growing from in between the bricks. They seem to have grown around the car also, the navy blue Holden Astra is almost enveloped by weeds. So I am guessing that she hasn’t actually left the house in say, 4-5 months.

We got a sign of life (not her life though) two days ago, when several of her friends came to her house, three cars to be exact and hauled some crap onto the lawn for the suburbs junk collection, happening next week. Gave us an insight into the inside of her hermit zone, a white wooden bed head with a gold antique strip, and a queen size mattress in hippy green. Wow, what does it all mean? Nothing I expect.

Mmm, its funny how curious we are as humans, all I want to know right now is what the heck is going on there? What’s with the metal roller shutters that block out all the light, the whole not coming outside thing, the whole not feeding your cat properly thing, not bringing your bins in after they are emptied, like ever???!!!

I have been tempted to go and knock on the door with some baked goods or something, to make sure that she is ok. But there is always that constant toss up, would she really want that, would she latch on to me afterwards, would that be so bad, would I be doing it only the satisfy my curiosity. It’s a tough one, and until I take that leap, she will continue to be my strange hermit neighbour.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Aaah Haa Haa Haa Haa

I want a puppy!

P.S I tried to make this an actual link for you but the New Beta Blogger version is for some reason having a hissy fit! It's one of those love/hate blogger days.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Fire fox – The not so new revolution

Now I know that Fire fox has been around for a while, well on internet time…ages! But I have only just caught on, and decided to install and power up Fire fox.

And…I love it. It is so much more user friendly than Safari, your regular web browser for Mac.

A few of my favourite functions:
Use of tabs instead of multiple windows
So easy to use, especially for morons like me
Importing of all of your bookmarks seamlessly
Cool extensions to the base Fire fox program that allow you to synchronize bookmarks between computers on your network, video down loader, Ad block filter, and the ever important Calorie King Toolbar, because what would life be like if you couldn’t search instantly for foods and decide whether you should ingest 50 million calories? Well it would be sh*t and guilt free, and we can’t be women without a large slab of guilt to make us feel feminine.

So I recommend putting the Internet Explorer, Netscape’s, Safari’s on the back burner and use Firefox instead!

Monday, September 11, 2006


P-Touched: A person who takes organization to such extremes that it comes off as a little mental.

Term from:

No, she does not mean the P-Touch, that lovely little Brother label printer, though that item does assist the P-Touched person in organizing their lives to the point of being mental. I don’t have a P-Touch, I am a P-Toucher who uses a Dymo Letra Tag!

If you are P-Touched you are not alone, many of my girlfriends may also be P-Touched, I am probably worse than them, but perhaps not as bad as all of the women in my mother’s family! In fact my Grandmother may be the most P-Touched person that I have ever met, or even that exists on this earth. No offence Grammy, I aspire to your P-Touched-ness.

I really love this new term, I wonder if Mighty Girl has made this one up? If so, clever girl! I now have a new word to help me categorise my an*l-ness.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

80’s Fashion…Tragic

“There is only one significant thing that I took away from the show, and that is how profoundly scared I am of the dramatic and tragic turn fashion has suddenly taken. From Kanye West's white tapered pants to Paris Hilton's black Grandpa ankle boots, fashion is trying to pull the 80's out of its very deep grave. I'd recently been to a local clothing store and noticed the skinny pants and leggings and cropped fishnet sweaters, and I had chosen not to believe that it was happening. But you can't ignore it when it is trotted out on a New York stage and flaunted as if it were perfectly okay (it isn't! it isn't okay!).”


Next thing you know we will be surrounded by huge shoulder pads, huge hair, and huge piles of my vomit on the sidewalk after I am exposed to the horror that is bad 80’s fashion. Like Dooce, I have too seen the slow creep of bad 80’s fashion returning to clothing stores, TV, movies and music videos. I would personally like to know who decided that it was okay to turn back the clock to skinny jeans and slouchy boots! Because I would like to wack them over the head with their own slouchy boots, and remind them that there was a very good reason why all that fashion was donated to Good Sammy’s!

I remember looking back at photos of my Mum and my Aunties when I was a grung-ing teenager and thinking, what did they possibly think was ok about shoulder pads in a t-shirt, high-waisted stonewash jeans and white tapered pants?! My mum was also guilty of popping my hair in the telltale 80’s side pony tail! But maybe she did that so she could have easy access to yank on it when I was being a moody 8 year old. (I can’t actually remember my mum ever doing this to me, but if I were her I probably would have been tempted to. I was a moody kid who felt like I was missing out cause I only had 1 barbie doll, and all my friends had 300, more of my Barbie denied childhood later.)

My real worry is…how did men find women attractive in this period of time? They would have had huuuuuge hair, and huuuuuge everything else, bright makeup, manly shoulders…the list goes on. How was I even born in the 80’s? How did people have s*x in the 80’s with huge shoulder pads, skin tight leggings and skinny leg jeans blocking their access?

Please go to the below link, scroll and laugh, laugh, laugh. But remember it may not be long before we are faced with this horror very soon.

Thursday, September 07, 2006


I think I have a problem with paranoia. What that means exactly I am not sure. All I know is that when I am alone at night I feel exposed, and I feel almost terrified. It’s not only if I am outside in the dark, even if I am locked in the house but in a different room from my husband. If I go to sleep before him, I keep the lamp on and I have to keep the door open, so I can hear him moving in the other room. I close all of the blinds at night so not to look up and see someone staring in at me, as if that would happen! But I do it anyway!

I don’t know why I get so scared. I have never been able to understand where this fear has come from.

Is it the warnings that my mother when I was a child that has made me so scared of strangers, and who/what is out there? Could it have been the scary movies that I watched when I was in my early teens? The ones where there was always someone hiding in a corner, behind a door, in the back of your car, outside the window, staring.

Could it have been those dreams that I had when I was a kid, when I would wake up screaming silent screams. When I woke up from those dreams my head would still be inside the dream, my voice wouldn’t work so I could never scream to my parents. My legs wouldn’t work either, it was like I was frozen and I was too scared to move, so I would just lay there alone in the darkness.

And that’s how I feel every time I am out and about at night, or even stepping out my front door, alone in the darkness, but I feel an expectation that something horrible might happen. I wish that I could let it go, it is so limiting, it stops me from enjoying myself in certain situations, or maybe it keeps me safe.

I wonder if it is a female ‘thing’ to feel so venerable in a situation that could potentially be dangerous. I wonder if all women feel this way to varying degrees? Maybe I will get over it one day, or feel more confident, or am I destined to end up like my Grandma, dragging her dressing table in front of her bedroom door when she is alone at night? Come to think about it, maybe I got it from her?

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

The Gardening Romance is Over

(Written on the 5th of Sept)

Before I begin, NO I have not killed any seedlings. But, YES, I am totally over watering them everyday. I just came in from watering those little sons of b*tches in the freezing cold wind, that has been blowing through this fine city all day today. As I type this, my hands are so numb that I can’t actually feel them touching the keys. My husband actually shrieked (very girly) when I touched him with my hands, I have never heard that sounds come out of him before, it was quite shocking, for the both of us.

I tell you what those little seedlings better appreciate all the pain and anguish I am going through to water them, weed around them (damn you clover weeds!), snail pellet them, remove dead snail bodies everyday.

Speaking of dead snail bodies, I have an aversion to mucus, its colours, it consistency, everything about it! This is creating a rather interesting site for people walking by as I try not to vomit on the grass when carefully extracting dead snails spurting with mucus from the garden beds. I am crouched down, in my Ugg boots (of course, they are the epitome of suburban, domestic, winter, gardening footwear), large gardening gloves on, plastic pot of dead snails to my right, bending forward plucking out the mucus snail body, cringing, trying not to touch the gooby bits, and then transferring it into the pot plant.

Our street gets a lot of traffic from evening walkers and their pets, so I am sure that they all look forward to seeing the woman crouching, cringing and trying not to choke on her own mucus.

The gardening romance is officially over!

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Chuck has some competition...not! Hee Hee Hee

Poor little Mojo, you would think with that face there would be many skin folds to balance treats on.

I want a puppy too. :(

Monday, September 04, 2006

Goodbye Mr Irwin

I can’t say that I was a big fan of Steve Irwin, I found him a little over the top, a bit cringe worthy and very, very annoying. However I do appreciate that he loved his life’s work with Australian animals, if you can get up every morning to do something you love, and get paid sh*te loads to do it, then good on you. Not many people in this world have that claim.

He did do some pretty insane things in his life, and was always living on the edge so maybe it was only a matter of time.

I felt sad today when I found out that he had passed, his wife now without a husband and his two lovely children, who will no never get to know their father further from this day. I am sure everyone has heard/read the stories about his death, so I won’t go into that, at least he was taken from this world doing what he loved.

Goodbye Mr Irwin, Rest in Peace.

Saturday, September 02, 2006


On Thursday night I watched a program about the people who were forced to take their own lives and jump from the World Trade Centres. Even to this day my mind, my soul, body, every part of my being cannot seek to comprehend what happened on that day. I was at work on that evening, waitressing at a restaurant, when I heard from some friends who came for coffee. I think that we may have closed the restaurant early, but I can’t be sure, everything felt like a blur after I new.

I got home and got straight on the phone to my boyfriend, who is now my husband, we had been together for 5 months. I was crying, and I felt sick, my body was like jelly. He had seen the second plane hit the tower in real time, and he couldn’t explain how he felt when he saw it, only that he felt dread, pain, and horror. Like everyone I knew, like every face in the newspaper, like every family member trying to find their loved ones, everyone felt horror.

We were on the phone all night, we couldn’t sleep we just laid, 5 or so suburbs apart, each on our beds, eyes glued to the screen. I cannot imagine how those people felt in that building, I can not imagine how their friends and family felt, I cannot imagine how those people felt as they stood on the street, or the feeling that those people felt as they leapt or fell. All I know is what I felt, and that is horror, pain, intense emotion, and to this day goose bumps, a physical reaction to the intensity of that day.

Friday, September 01, 2006

The Coolest Dance in the World

If only people spent more time and energy doing this instead of participating in acts of hatred, violence and war, the world would be a much better place.