Hate the sin, not the sinner

Where to start...
Last night I got hungry. This directly followed being thirsty, and consuming several glasses of bourban and coke. Driving as out of the question - I wasn't going to lose my probationary license on the eve of gaining my full license - yet the thought of deep fried, salty junk food was overpowering.

The obvious answer? Throw my roller-blades on. I harnessed the dogs up, strapped a torch to their collars and a few glow in the dark bracelets I had left over from when I was 13, and off I went - down hill, all the way. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life, but luckily I made it with moments to spare before Hungry Jacks shut for the night.

I have no idea why I was peckish - I'd cooked a roast for lunch. I say I cooked it, when really the Chef was was in the process of tricking me into eating a pig. You see, before I met him, I was a vegetarian for close to 11 years, and didn't relish the idea of starting to eat animals again. I soon realized I simply would not get fed if I did not consume meat. But I drew the line at anything other than chicken and fish.

So yesterday when I pulled the bird from the oven, I was horrified at the color - it was a greasy greyish pink, and I clearly thought it had a case of salmonella. And then it dawned on me - Chef had been very sneaky in his wrapping it in tin foil and the whole smothering a chicken in apple sauce seemed rather odd. I did at least attempt eating it - I got as far as putting my fork near it, then vomiting in my mouth a little. So I just did what I relied on as a child - I cut it up into lots of little pieces, and hid it under all the other things on my plate I refused to eat.

This afternoon, all three bank cards were declined at VicRoads. No money, no license. Eeep.
So, again to something I relied on as a child - calling my father when I need cash. I met him in some seedy park, and he handed over double what I needed. It was rather shocking, actually - and there was no snide comments about payment plans. I still felt like I was performiong some illicit drug deal, but all that aside, I finally got my license. And it is hideous. Truly awful. I look like an overweight version of my mother, which isn't a bad thing, just slightly shocking to see.
I have every intention of leaving my license somewhere near an underage girl loitering near a pub somewhere, and going through the entire process again, until I get some I.D I am actually smiling in.

Comment of the day? After several hours deliberation on what to wear in my new photo I.D and finally settling on a cute summer dress, I clambered out the car to my father saying "can't you afford any clothes?"



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Now playing: Robbie Williams - Sin Sin Sin
via FoxyTunes

Hip Hip, Chin Chin

Late last night, as I was settling down to give Basil another dose of his medication, I had the same feeling of apprehension I've had the past few days - I didn't want to dig around his burrow and grab a corpse. So I was shocked to see him on the second floor of his little apartment - he has been unable to breathe, let alone walk lately, yet there he was, sitting up cleaning himself and stuffing his face like the Bazza I know & love. As you can see, he soon climbed down and got to business on his dinner. Broccoli, carrot, banana, apple, lettuce, cucumber & Sultana Bran, with some Cruskits, corn flakes & Ritz biccies. I knew he was feeling better when I realized he'd ignored most of that, and eaten every last Coco pop I illicitly fed him. Even so, that rat eats better than I ever do.

Onto my three happy things today...

1. After 5 whole years of driving (where did it all go?!) I finally receive my full license tomorrow (with a rather large fee to VicRoads). This is very exciting, yet slightly disturbing - I have no excuse to drive as badly as I do anymore. And in that whole time...only one (major) accident, only 2 cars written off (neither were mine) and just the 1 de-merit point for speeding.

2. 57 Days to go until... Merry Christmas! Mum and I have been busy planning our menu this week, and last night I got out all my decorations and added all the new ones I've been busy buying in the last few weeks. I am such a fiend for this time of year. The only thing with not living at home is the lack of presents out under the tree to be taunted with. I used to sit every night and read the little clues Mum would stick on my (extremely thickly wrapped) parcels, and poke and prod and beg for more clues. I swear my blood pressure rises several notches each year - nothing to do with planning or shopping or dealing with relatives, it's all related to the stress of squeezing presents.

3. My new body wash. It's Pomegranite and something or other, and smells divine.
Every time I sniff myself, I want to eat my arm off.

On a sad note... R.I.P to my darling Peppe.

{Thanks to Melissa for pointing out my spelling error :) }



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Now playing: Yaziko - Hip Hip Chin Chin
via FoxyTunes

Ben aka Basil

Ben, most people would turn you away ,
I don't listen to a word they say -
They don't see you as I do,
I wish they would try to,
I'm sure they'd think again...
If they had a friend like Ben.

With thanks to Michael Jackson
{and with thanks to Seah}.



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Now playing: Michael Jackson 5 - Ben
via FoxyTunes

And from now on, I'm naming all my titles after songs.

Best Wishes for my Bazza

I was always told I had an over active imagination as a child, but I really think I have some strange preconceptions about things. I tend to think if I diet, in three days or so I will be a fit, toned and svelte version of my former self. Same came of odd thoughts with death. Basil went to the vet today - he has a cut on his eye and penis, and was breathing very hard and basically looked like death warmed up. They think he has kidney disease, and being two years old, and, well, a rat, there's not a lot to be done. Although I knew it was coming really, it still upset me. So when they offered to give him some fluids and vitamins, give him a little heat and inject some sort of ratty goodness into his belly, I jumped at the chance. I had visions of him coming home to me in an hour, like his normal self - slightly overweight, scuttling around the room taunting the dogs by nibbing their noses; sneezing at the dust bunnies under the couch.
I don't really deal with reality well. My friends aren't "just people I giggle with a lot" and food isn't "just something I do to stop myself being a skeleton", just as my pets aren't "just a rat".

So I thought I'd share a little insight into that.
Basil came from a petstore who was selling cute fluffy baby ratties. I'm always a sucker for a sob story, so when I saw the 'poor, old fully grown rats' that had been returned to the store when they were no longer cute, I immediately chucked $25 at the surly sales girl and left with a box full of sawdust and a gangly rodent named Beige.
I initially got him for a reason. I had an ulterior motive. I was, at the time, living with 3 other people - one of whom continually stole all our possessions. Nothing was safe from this girl. Socks, underwear, plates, food - it was all fair game to her. We'd often see her walking around with various articles of our clothing, pinched directly from the washing machine in the few minutes they sat there before we hung them out. I honestly don't know how she did it - she was a good two to three sizes bigger than myself, and my underwear isn't exactly loose.
If we ever dared ask her why she nicked our stuff, we never got an answer - nor did we ever see the stuff again.
One day my fellow roomates and myself had had enough - we hatched ourselves a plan. We'd find ourselves an excuse to creep about her room, and in the process, lower ourselves to her level - steal all our stuff back.
So once Basil was happily ensconsed in his cage in the laundry (and munching his way through an entire slice of my room-mates toast with vegemite every single day) we soon got to business. The first few times we actually placed him in the offenders bedroom, but we soon realized this would be considered cruelty to animals. This girl didn't clean a lot. In between piles of dirty underwear were piles of cat crap. When her cat went potty in our bath/kitchen sink/food cupboard/sofa, it would sit for a few days then be removed to her room, where it sat and grew fur.
Basil was hastily removed, and we entered at our own risk, complete with large sticks, protective eyewear and a tea-towel for a face mask. In the end, we only found a few of our garments, and even after thorough disinfecting, we never wore them again. It was the principle of the thing. So although he was soon made redundant as our Believable Excuse for snooping, he was soon a much loved member of our family, and the Chef's and my first pet.
Whenever we had a poker or drinking night, we'd drag our kitchen table onto our deck, and sit around in a big circle, with Basil circling it, running across our laps, looking for stray cheese. That rat loves cheese. I hope he comes home feeling as good as old times, and can have another Summer spent in our fridge. (Joking! He was only in for a few seconds while we filmed. And him and the kitten were great friends. He actually seemed to like it. Hes a very open minded ratty. Honestly. I'd never do anything to harm either of them).




UPDATE: Baz has had B12 injections, vitamin C, Iron, anabolic steroids and vitamins and minerals through a drip. He's snuggled up in my bedroom on my hot water bottle, with a bowl of Sultana Bran, carrots, corn, capsicum, apple, banana and lettuce, and a few coco pops. He's meant to have Ribena every few hours, and I was told if he didn't want to eat the magical ratty syrup he's got, then he's severely ill. He won't touch it. I've got a miniature syringe and have tried to hand feed him, but he's not interested. I've left him with the hot water bottle and a face washer to get some warmth. I feel horrible not doing more for him, but when I push him to eat and he emits little protesting squeaks I feel even worse. I don't want to let him die, yet I fee I should give him some peace after his stressful day as a pin cushion. My poor boy :(

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Now playing: The Potbelleez - Don't Hold Back
via FoxyTunes

Roma & the Oaks

I didn't end up going to paint ball. It was 29 degrees at 8:30am, so I decided to road trip to Inverloch, hit the beach and spend some time with my mum instead. I woke up this morning with another stinking cold - I thought it was hayfever until this afternoon, when I'd already made my way through a box of tissues. I crawled my way to the chemist, and practically ate the proffered cold and flu tablets, until I heard the word 'Sudoephedrine'. Until this time last year, I had only two known allergies - avocado, and coedine. I found out the first at a supermarket taste testing day, and left soon after with my wind pipe rapidly closing over. The latter was prescribed to me, and I spent the next 5 days alternating between suicide and plotting violent murder to all those I loved. Not a good time to be had.

So when I was offered cough mixture last year during a particularly nasty bout of flu, I took it readily. And cried. And cried. And sobbed and howled and cried some more. For hours, literally without stopping. Hmmm.

I finally settled on a nasal spray and anti-histamine, which would apparently wouldn't affect me negatively, as it wouldn't enter my blood stream like normal cold fighters do. We'll wait and see if the Chef makes it through the night with testicles intact. The worst part of it is the sniffing of chemicals - I could never be a coke addict; I genuinely hate things up my nose.

So for my three positives today, I'm too clogged up to think past what I can smell right now...

1. Mini Roma tomatoes smothered in basalmic vinegar roasting in the oven to go with my red wine, beef and mushroom lasagne. And I have all the ingredients for forest berry pancakes in the morning - all gluten free.

:(

I heard a few days ago there was an accident in Ohio, and an Aussie band had been involved. I didn't think too much of it, until I sat down this morning and opened the newspaper to a photo of Adam with his band, Electric Jellyfish. The band who'd had the fatal crash in America.
I met Adam through my brother, and instantly fell in love with him - I was only young, but he was so much fun, and I loved my time with him when we spent a day at the Australian Open. He went along to the filming of Queen of the Damned, and I was shattered when my mother announced I wasn't allowed to go. He even came to see me in hospital when I was sick, which was more than my closest friends even managed.

I just wanted to say my deepest sympathy goes to Adam and his remaining band mates, and if you read this Mr Camillerri, I hope your hospital stay is short and you soon heal. My mother offered to send the wedding certificate she made for us all those years ago to give you a smile.

gaaaaaah!

Oh. My. God.

I have 12 minutes to do my hair, select an outfit, slap on some slap and get out the door for Bones' Birthday Bash. The one with the First Love present. The one with the First Love present whom I need to impress.

I now have 11 minutes, I can't locate my chicken fillets - I need all the cleavage I can get tonight - and I can only find ONE SHOE.


It's clearly buried in my shoe closet or under my bed, never to be seen again.


-UPDATE-

I found my shoe, complete with several dust bunnies. It was under the Chef's bed. Go figure.

Anywya, now I'm a little concerned I look like I'm dressed by my mother for a 5 year olds birthday party.

I'm even wearing a little cardi. Me! The Queen of "I'm Sure I'll Be Warm Enough" as my teeth shatter together in the subzero temperatures.

I decided on my favorite LBD (it's kind of black) as seen below - I can't find a decent photo of it where my face looks remotely un-pissed - but I just feel...



Frumpy.

And that is not sexy.





And my God, looking at that photo on the right, I really do have my mothers chin.

Skirmish!

3 things keeping me going today?

1. I'm going paintballing on Sunday. Yes. That is correct. I am being let loose in a field with 400 pound Maori's and a large gun. I'm beginning to think I may not be as brave as I make out - these guys are huge. My entire strategy for not getting killed by them is to lie flat and/or hide behind a tree so they can't see me, and then ambush then while they're backs are turned. There will be much screaming, I fear.

2. So You Think You Can Dance. On tape. In my living room. I have a free afternoon. I am excited.

3. Bones' Birthday Bash tomorrow night. I agreed to attend without thinking very carefully, and it suddenly dawned on me my First Love may or mat not be there. Leaning more towards the definitely will. And, since it's been 4 years since we last spoke, I obviously need a killer outfit and a lot of leg showing. Ya know. 4 years is a long time. I can't even begin to explain why it is necessary to have a slammin' dress, killer heels and big hair. I'm sure most ladies will understand it's not about making yourself attractive to them. It's more a personal statement of just how fantastically happy and successful we are without him, and how much you've gained from your life since he left you, moping and crying hysterically on your final day of school.

erm....wtf?

As I was walking along the beach today, happily day dreaming about all my favorite things - ponies, having blonde hair, chocolate self saucing pudding - I noticed a (large) hairy man in what appeared to be see through shorts. As I was in the middle of a lovely golden dream involving Pasha riding a pony with blonde hair smothered in said pudding (joke!) I didn't pay too much attention.

10 metres later.

It dawned on me his rather hairy butt crack was indeed on display. I idly wondered why such an old man would indeed buy a transparent swimming costume, and carried on my merry way.

5 metres later.

He stood up. Brushed some sand off himself. Applied a shirt, and started walking directly in front of me.

Stark. Staring. Naked.

Apparently the signs dotted along the beach front weren't prohibiting what they depicted - 4 people holding hands. On closer inspection, the revealed what was clearly supposed to be a man and woman linking hands with...a smaller man and woman. Which one would assume would indicate children.

Which begs the question - who takes their children for an afternoon at the seaside, and gets their willy out?

ROFLMAO.

*gasps for air*

You MUST click here for quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen. Ever.

Potentially NSFW, you may find yourself rolling on the floor giggling like a schoolgirl.


{Disclaimer: It may not be that funny if you are Non Australian, or really boring. Indeed, this may just be my insane humour. But click it anyways}.

TBA

I really need to rely on my 'three positive things' over the next month or so. No new clothes. No Venti Caramel Macchiatos'. Not even a Subway Half and Half cookie when I'm feeling down. From now on, it's all systems go to save, save save, and move into our new place. There are potentially a few problems - i.e our estate agent being her usual self and acting like something I dare not type, not finding new tenants and us being homeless, with a lot of china horses, several boxes of 'things I'm saving for my own children' and a whole heap of empty wine bottles I will someday turn into candle holders. I can see us ending up in a camping somewhere for a few weeks. Still, I suppose I can always pretend we're on holiday. I mean, I'm sure you can still run a Mac Powerbook, a Hiptop2 and iPod & digital camera's on a 9volt battery, right?

So, to the positives.

1. It's a beautiful day. I'm going to spend the first half relaxing in the sunshine (27 degrees, whoo hoo!) and the rest frantically calling estate agents, and searching for shrapnel in the couch for future emergency eBay purchases. A girl needs a new dress to keep her morale up, you know? {edit: Look! It got to 30 degrees! I heart Summer!}

2. My boobs look really big today.

and 3? My new $1 jeans are LONG enough. For only the second time in my life, I have jeans with a hem that actually touches my feet. The first pair remain in my wardrobe, ripped to shreds from constant wear. They are sacred, and never to be thrown out.

warm fuzzyness.

Today I went in search of My Dream Home. I think I actually came pretty close - carpet, cupboards, a bath, a fence, an agent who isn't clinically insane - all things I currently lack - and I spent several minutes calling practically everyone I know, to tell them of my new found glory. And then it happened. 3 people, who can only be described as complete bogans, (for those needing a definition of a 'Bogan', click here)walked past, complete with obligatory snarling Rottweiler, can of Woodstock and hideous beer gut hanging out of tight lyrca leggings, swearing profusely and eyeing off my car. I guess I can't win them all. I either choose a house I wouldn't be ashamed to invite people to and potentially be broken into repeatedly, or have charming neighbours and live in a god forsaken shit hole in the middle of no where. The choice...
On the way home, I of course stopped off at the shelter my boy dog came from. I can't help myself - something about poor lonely animals makes me go all gooey, and today was no different. I just about came home with 3 new dogs, but luckily came to my senses as I noticed a sign for an Op Shop. Bargain shopping is one of my favorite things to do, coming in a close third behind adopting random animals with dodgy history's, and taking long bubble baths. Cut a long story short (sort of), I emerged several minutes later with two books, and a pair of jeans I paid $169 for last season, for the grand total of $2. As I paid, I slipped in an extra $4 or so, which was the grand total of my finance this week, and the lady actually stopped me to say I'd overpaid her. I replied, with some embarrassment, I would like to give her a small donation, to which she practically burst into tears with thanks. It was so sweet, and gave me such a nice warm fuzzy feeling all day; something so little made someone elses day, not because of the actual cost, but the notion behind doing it. It was also nice to be called 'lass'; I usually cop 'young lady' these days, which always makes me feel like I'm in trouble for something.

"The only way to travel...

...by Pasha!" That lucky, lucky girl. And yes, I know I've spouted about my new found Pasha addiction before (here), but after watching So You Think You Can Dance last night, I just can't seem to quell my desire. You see, I was actually at Dog Training in the evening, but had the brilliant forward planning to tape it while I was gone. Unfortunately, I left the actual task of doing so up to a certain someone I live with (not mentioning any names here, Chef...) and I came home to an ejected cassette, signaling my recording had not been successful.
I quickly shoved some beer battered fries in the oven (nutritious dinner, anyone?) and settled down to catch the final moments, and praised the TV Lord for keeping Pasha safe. Of course, 20 minutes of Life Saving dances and Enrique Inglasias just wasn't enough. I had to carefully fast forward the tape, past all my episodes of Pirate Masters I never watched, through a special on Millionaire Dogs, and finally... to my love. Thankfully, there was enough time left after an episode of Nerds FC to see Pasha in action...and all I have to say is, he can put those Jazz Hands all over me at any time.

Hurrah!

I can't even think of a word to do justice to how indescribably happy I am right now - I'm just watching Antique Roadshow and randomly emitting excited squeaks. I did it! I got my bitch on, I stood up for myself, and I got out of my lease! I'm sure there will be some sort of repurcussion - my estate agent is a Narky Bitch from Hell - but for now, all I can think about is north facing windows, spa baths and durable fencing. For the first time in FIVE months, I can almost consider relaxing, and the dream of leaving my own house for longer than 4 hours is becoming marginally more realistic.

Comment of the day? Seah's hilariosity from a chat regarding having a shopping partner if I find my dream home nearby...

"I love shopping *wipes away single tear*".

Retail Therpy & My New Maddens = Happy Katie

My number one positive thing today? I got new shoes. New Steve Madden shoes. My mum put $10 towards them...so I had to pay $2.25. Yes. That is correct. I picked up Ruby Red Satin Pinto Steve Maddens for TWELVE DOLLARS & TWENTY FIVE CENTS at Myer today. They are the utterly adorable ballet flats on the far left, and 4th from the right. Yes. I broke down and bought flats, something I swore I never would. But hey, I need them for work, they're Steve Maddens, and need I repeat the $12.25?

I had to take a photo of them in all their splendor, along with the other shoes I may or may not have bought this week.

I say it like that, because they're still in hiding from the Chef, and if he doesn't know I have them, then I can't really have paid for them. Logical.

In general, I am happy - I went out with my mother today with $30, and returned with a horse riding jumper, a plaid halter neck with satin straps, a funky black work top, two aprons, 4 pairs of boyleg undies, a grey dress, a brown shirt, 2 packets of potato bake stuff for dinner, 18 lamingtons (not too many left..) 6 baubles for my Christmas tree, a stocking, 2 door hangers, 2 dog toys involving rope, 3 tennis balls, a toy horse, a book on holidaying with dogs, a horse manual, a new Porkys video, and of course my shoes. Power shopping is what I live for.

a quick plug for my rent boy.

I think the sign with the hunka spunk on pretty much says it all - check out his music here or his webpage here, and when November rolls around... buy his LP!

Seriously - support some home grown (well, if you're British) talent - he's mighty fine, ladies, I think you'll agree, and the more you buy, the more you'll see of him! Oh yes, and his music is totally fantastic :)

corn on the cob & a kettle on the hob

It's quite nice to sit down for five minutes and post pictures of shallow, pretty dresses. You see, there's no end in sight for my busy week. I'm trying to look at that positively. Lunch with my mother, dog training, shopping with my cousin, dog training, 'Paws with your Pal', dog training, dinner with Seah & Co, and of course, working with my horsies and the trial at my new job on Monday. In between all that I need to walk the dogs a minimum 8km daily, do my hideously painful ab crunching and general girly maintenance, and of course clean the house, provide delicious and nutritional meals for my man and mutts and try not to consume vast amounts of alcohol to get me through.
When my credit card and my banking card declared themselves empty and spat themselves out the Eftpos machine today, it was slightly hard to think positively. In fact, it was all I could do not to have a complete mental break down in the express lane of Big W. (Not helped by the fact a menopausal women today stole my car park from under my nose, cut me off left right and freakin' centre, and drove in a downright insane way, and had the nerve to raise her hands in confusion when I flipped her the bird and deafened her with my horn. Cow).
So, my happy happy thoughts today are somewhat simple pleasures, just to keep me sane.

1. My adorable Gallaz shoes. They match my workout gear, and are strangely comfortable in a "I know I'm still wearing socks" kind of way. If I feel cute working out, then I look cute working out. And that means my work outs are more productive. Winner.

2. Smoked corn on the cob and garlic herb and cheese bread for lunch. I can smell those babies roasting in the kitchen as I type. I love living with a chef.

3. My new kitchen appliances. I'm kinda glad our Russell Hobbs range crapped itself simultaneously. I love my new 'raspberry red' blender and I know it will help me produce delicious Red Corvettes in Summer. Mmm, frangelico & strawberries in the swimming pool at Christmas. Heaven.

And I've gotta add... I fell in love with Vicious Threads when I randomly tried on a dress in the Basement last season, and since then I've been somewhat disappointed in their collection. Having said that, the dress on the left is the one I fell in love with - it looks totally slammin' on, yet looks like a common Target sack on the model. I think I might track me down the nice dress on the right on ebay and give it a loving home in my wardrobe.

I love you without knowing how, nor why...

Other than the fact I look somewhat like a trashy crack whore with thunder thighs, it's a pretty good photo of all the crap in my lounge room.
The point? My new shoes! So. Freakin'. Comfortable. So Freakin'. Cute.




{and if it looks like I have an incredibly tiny fireplace, I have 10ft ceilings. Oh, and - me: 178cm + heels: 10cm = 6ft 2 of scary lady}.









Even Phoenix approves.