301

How did I reach my 300th post without realizing?

...Anyway. I had a lovely Christmas, but itś all gone by in such a flash. I set my tent up on Tuesday, and cannot work out where the time has gone since. In that time...


* Chef came down and accidentally let Cleo lose. Mum lives on the main road. I had hysterics. Luckily, she came to her senses and realized she could not live without me, and I spent a few not-so-fun moments climbing over fences and crawling under the house next door to rescue her. She is now spending her time ambushing Pause, mum´s tiny kitten. Sheś going to be lonesome when we return home.

* Christmas day was spent in a flurry of ripped wrapping paper and exclamations over my wonderful presents. I appear to have been spoilt rotten again. Le sigh.

*More unwrapping was done on Boxing Day, as the entire family caught up and consumed an enormous Christmas meal - and a whole lot of dessert, also. I think I'm going to be able to live off my butt-fat for the next week, I have devoured so much in the past few days.

*Phoenix and Sahara have taken to the outdoor life, and haven´t accidentally run through the tent like I feared they may. Mum and I spent an hour and a half putting the damn thing up, getting every possible aspect of it wrong before finally working out the instructions. I fear I may have been slightly over-zealous buying a 12 man, three room tent when itś just me and the kids - but obviously I have filled the other two rooms up with hot men presents and luggage.

* I kicked the fridge yesterday, resulting in splitting my little two. There was much blood. There is no reason why I´m telling you this.

* I had an interesting time over the weekend. I headed homeward bound for the day, and spent a gorgeous afternoon slobbing on the white sand and splashing in the crystal-clear waters at the beach. I also managed to shove myself into a gorgeous new shirt that has my personal motto emblazoned on the front. I do love to hear the words ¨we´re going shopping and you may choose whatever you please¨. Easiest way to my heart :)

* After collecting my children, I went spontaneously road tripping to the Island, where I drank far too much, gambled excessively and smoked more than I should and met some lovely new people. I may or may not have slept in the car with Sahara as a reminder I am Crazy Canine Woman, and to reiterate my kids are my life. Although I won that argument, I think I may have come off second best in the end. It wasn´t the warmest of nights, or most comfortable.

* As I´m typing, Cleo & Pause are causing mayhem and destroying the house. Hilarious.

*... and I think I´m done for the morning. Time for breakfast. I shall return hopefully tomorrow or Wednesday, and am looking forward to reading all of your posts :) Leave me some love, people - I´m missing y´all.

Ho Ho Ho.

As much as I've assed around and been completely demotivated lately, it is finally time to leave: My week spent with Mum opening presents, giggling over Christmasses past and general merryment is here :)

I still haven't got everything I wanted to actually done - there's still undies to pack, presents to wrap and presents to actually buy, but I think I should get it all done by my midday deadline. I was hoping to use Chef's car as my pack horse today, but alas, he is no longer speaking to me (recurring theme much?) and thus, I shall somehow have to squeeze two dogs, the cat, a 12 man tent, an enormous bag of presents and an even bigger bag of clothes in my car. I'm still wondering where the two dog beds, a kitty litter tray and me are going to fit.

I feel a game of Human Tetris coming on.

I had every intention of arriving yesterday, but unfortunately there was half a millimetre of rain and a light breeze in the afternoon, so I felt it was best to wait until today - when oh, look! it's actually raining and gale force winds outside! - to put my tent up. Yep. Go Katie.

Merry Christmas y'all. I'll be back sometime in the New Year - complete with photos of my Christmas Day frolicking on the beach.

Have a great one!

It's nearly time to relax.

It has been, by far, the busiest week ever, without actually getting anything done.
I had a super nice time catching up with Chicken - eating pizza, people watching and catching up on the beach (and yes, burning some nice red marks onto my legs in the sun). Saturday night was an utterly random affair, with stories that potentially shouldn't be shared over the internets for fear of getting arrested/recognized/arrested. A fun, fun night, and I have a new favorite drink - Mandarin Tang-tini's! Deeelish.


Sunday was just what I needed. Hours spent baking myself on the sand in between swimming in the crystal clear water de-fugging my hangover and feeling like I had not a care in the world. I couldn't have asked for a better Last Day...unless it involved beer and Singapore noodles.

Last minutes. I need a whole lot more of them.

The past fortnight has been absolutely crazy busy. I never intended it to be that way, but alas, things happen, sexy men are met, people are craving my attention... *waves down the adoration*

I've been loving it, too. Between catching up with various old friends and enjoying a heap of time with some new ones, I haven't had a minute to myself - usually just the way I like it. Today, however, is the first day I really just want to curl up in a ball on the beach and sleep. There has been only a single night in the past 13 I have been in bed before 3am, and each night has involved rather a lot of drinking, eating and general merryment like dancing up a storm.

This weekend was meant to be kept free - so I could actually get some Christmas shopping done as that's taken rather a back seat these past few weeks - but of course, it hasn't turned out that way. I'm meeting up with Chicken this afternoon (and if he stands me up again, there'll be hell to pay) which will involve a little more food, some shopping and some quality beach time, which is going to take me right up to the time I have organized to meet my cousin for cocktails, tapas and, let's face it, a little eye-candy at my favorite cocktail bar. There's absolutely no complaints on my part - I'm still revved up for a good long drinking session this evening, but it may interfere with my plans to get up early for breakfast with the gang on Sunday. And the rum-ball and truffle making plans I have for the afternoon. With the last-minute Christmas shopping, last-minute wrapping of the presents and very, very last minute packing all my possessions before I leave for Mum's for the week. Oh yes, and the last minute...

Week Recapped.

They don't look particularly attractive at this stage; however, after a little oven time they truly lived up to their name - Sverre's Best Ever Enchiladas.

Tuesday night Sarah, Sverre and I took the pooches for a run at The Bog Of Eternal Stench, where both the dogs and ourselves were completely and utterly drenched with said Bog. We didn't last there too long; the lure of Sverre's Best Ever Enchilada's was too great. After a quick change of clothes (I mentioned the Bog, right?) we decided it would be best to walk to Sverre's - a sort of preemptive workout to get rid of all the Mexican. As we wandered, we found a big patch of Pussy Willows, and quickly set about using them as swords and tickling devices, whilst arguing over whether they're called Pussy Willows, or Pussy Feet. I'm taking the Willow stance, and did so during many heated arguments regarding their name during the night. After several hours of disorganized chaos, dinner was ready - and it certainly lived up to it's name. I fear Sverre may not be able to rid us from his house in the near future if he continues to treat us to such Mexican delicacies.

The dance-floor, pre the crowds of 17 year olds people arriving.

Wednesday was spent in the hair salon having my re-growth attended to by a truly entertaining girl, who kept me on my toes and in fits of giggles for the three hours it took to do so. Naturally, I was running horribly late for dinner with my old school friend, Davo, but fortunately the sun was still out by the time I arrived and we say on the deck with some beers and soaked up the last of it. As we were munching our way through dinner, I noticed a flyer on the table announcing DJ John Course would be live upstairs that very night, which obviously mean I got super excited and wanted to stay and have a listen. 9pm came around, and I was ready for bed. By the time I got to 3am however, I was having a fabulous time carving up the dancefloor and didn't want to leave. I'm definitely keen to check him out again at Solar Festival on the 3rd January. Would anyone care to join me?

My pretty new Ladakh dress. All I need now is a shield and a chariot and I can go into battle.

I had a lovely time at dinner last night. It's somewhat comforting to know I'm not an enormous bush pig all the time, and can in fact be let loose on the general public sometimes.
And for some strange reason, I have Heart Shaped Box running through my head as if on loop, and every time I think about it, I giggle. I know what I'm adding to my playlist today.

There's been intermittent forms of Christmas shopping throughout the week, as well as trying to arrange what day I shall be packing up my tent and heading down to Mums (please, don't let it rain for the week...!) but I'm somewhat failing to get organized on both accounts. Le sigh.
I have every intention of getting the last of my presents out the way this afternoon, having a quick dinner with Chef (whom I haven't seen for over a week and need to sort some things out with) and a very early night. And maybe make time for a bath in there somewhere, too. Lovely.

Puppy Pics

I tried taking a photo to add to the top of this post, but naturally Sahara was too busy wiggling and squirming in delight that I was near her - and so we ended up with this.

That's right, Pricks From The Park, hide your manhood. (It was actually the end of a yawn, but those are some impressive fangs, no? He claws were trimmed on Monday. That is how quickly they grow. Craaazy.)
And then we moved on to this.
Yep. The photos on the wall in the background? All of her. It's as though she lives in a shrine.
And then, I took this:
and they eyebrow lift reminded me a little of this:

Panic in the park.

Yesterday afternoon, I took Phoenix for walkies. As we were trotting along casually, me humming Christmas carols to myself and Phoenix prancing in excitement, I heard some shouts and laughter coming from the middle of the park, around the play area. I presumed it was children mucking around, and carried on my carefree way. Until I realized the shouting was coming towards me, not getting lost in the wind. I kept walking, and was grateful Phoenix was so excited he was barking at me to play with him - I'm always kind of under the impression he scares people a little, so growling and barking is usually something I encourage him to do. Still, the shouting followed me - and was getting closer. I had a brief look behind my shoulder, and noticed three guys following me - and as soon as I looked at them, I realized what they were saying. I was alone. There was three of them. I have a vagina. You get the idea. I whistled Phoenix over and put him on lead (yep; still more worried about the welfare of my dog) and quickened my pace while wondering my best option. Stop, and ask them not to be so offensive and most likely get attacked? Set Phoenix on them? Run like the wind? It was at the moment when I realized I didn't have anywhere to go (why was there no football training or people running around the track for once, and no people I could mingle in between?) but that I knew if I had Sahara, I would be fine - and it dawned on me Sahara was back home, shut in the bathroom resting her mangled leg. Feck. I was pretty much power walking at this stage, running through options - here I was, alone, in the middle of a park with no one in shouting distance and most likely if there were, no one that would help me should these guys go through with what they were saying. And then, from behind some trees, came a couple walking their dogs. I aimed straight at them, and made a big fuss of their dogs and trying to keep the owners talking, while the guys came to a stop about 5 meters away. I quietly told the couple I was having some trouble, and as I saw the big rocks the guys had in their hands as I was chatting, I made a break for it. I didn't exactly run - I figured it'd probably make it worse to do so - but damn, did I move my legs. I walked straight through the playground where there were a lot of parents and people around, and managed to find a lady walking a dog near my street who I could walk with the rest of the way. At this point, I realized I was probably over-exaggerating the situation - and then I thought, no. You know what? As big and tough as I like to think I am, I'm really not. Sure, I can give good nipple cripples and drink a lot of guys under the table, but when it comes to three guys - who were carrying large rocks for some reason, and had said they had knives - versus all 55kg of me, I realistically probably wouldn't come out the victor. I know if Sahara had have been there, I wouldn't have been any where near freaked out - those guys would have be devoid of their testicles had they come a step closer, and probably a lot of their limbs, too.

After I got home, gave Sahara a big hug and locked all the windows, I calmed down a bit. And then I got angry. Why do the male species feel the need to have such a power trip over women? There's always the fight for supremacy, whether it's intelligent men thinking they can rule the world better than women of their calibre, simply because they're women, or three dicks in a park thinking they have the right to tell a girl walking her dog on a sunny afternoon they're going to rape her. I started feeling sorry for myself that something that I love - spending quality time with my man on a gorgeous day and not having a care in the world worth worrying about - could be shattered by a man. And then I told Sarah. And spend the next half an hour giggling at her threatening to rip their throats out and grateful for having someone who would defend my honor and fight to the death for me.

Guarding me with her life.

As I type, I can see through the doorway into the lounge room, where Sahara lays on her mat and watches me. And watches me. And keeps watching me. No matter where I go in the house, she will follow, just to watch me - but no so much as when I am typing.

No matter how quietly I turn my head to look at her, even when I think she is fast asleep, her tail is already wagging.

It is nice to be loved.

Commando crawling, cake cutting and Christmas curiosity.

I know it's not a great shot, but to see Nan having a giggle again after the events of the day made me smile. As did my cake. Mmm. Cake.

Yesterday was somewhat emotionally exhausting . I woke up (as we're aware from this post)and ran to the shops to purchase some last minute gifts for my Nan, and arrived home to Chef's entire family sitting in my lounge room watching fishing on TV. Naturally, I ran for the hills - well, at least to Mum's, anyway. Once I arrived, I headed straight for Tiny Kitty, and had a little wrestling match with her before my cousin and uncle arrived a few minutes later. Just as we sat down to munch on some much-needed lunch, the phone rang, and my uncle answered it. As soon as he said "are you ok?", all our ears pricked up and listened in - I think we all knew it was Nan. He hung up shortly after, and said she had a fall, gone to bed and didn't want us to go over to see if she was alright. At this point, my cousin, Susan, and I both jumped up, grabbed the car keys and headed out the door without any further ado. We both know how stubborn Nan can be, and that taking a nap when one is in shock isn't the best idea. We hopped in the car, and attempted some light conversation for a few moments, but couldn't really concentrate; so we launched into our plan of attack, and each possible scenario that might await us when we got to Nans after the 40 minute car ride. We made it in half that, and as I flung myself over the back gate and around the back of her house to her bedroom window to see if I could break in any where, she managed to get up and open the front door. Relief washed over us both, as I think we'd both been expecting to have to break down some doors and rush in to call an ambulance. I must admit, I was horribly worried and extremely stressed the entire trip - memories of how our Grandad died kept coming back to me, and I was so anxious to make sure Nan was alright. It turns out she'd been climbing on top of an old chair to get a jumper down from the top of the wardrobe, and the chair had fallen over; she hit her back on the wall, then on the edge of the bed as she landed. She couldn't get up, and had to inch her way over to the emergency button (which we are extremely glad she finally agreed to having) as she'd just taken it off to get changed into said jumper. She asked for an ambulance, as she was unable to stand, and apparently had a gay old time with the rather sexy paramedic named Nigel. Trust Nan to be such a minx in such a situation. She was very shaken, and very sore when we arrived, but we stuffed her full of hot tea and had a good giggle about Nigel, Chef stuffing my DVD player with hidden cameras because he thinks I'm having an affair and so on and so forth. We ended up having her birthday dinner a little late, and enjoying the delicious cake I made, before Mum drove me back to her house to pick up my car. On the way, we had a good old chat, and ended up driving all over her town and getting somewhat lost in the search of pretty Christmas lights. I ended up staying until nearly midnight, giggling and squeezing all my Christmas presents, playing soccer with the kitten and unwinding after the rather stressful day we'd both had. Although it didn't turn out exactly as planned, it made me really rather weepy to know us girls can band together when we need to, and that I have truly got the best mother and nanna in the world. I don't know what I'd do without them - and I can't wait to head down with my tent in a few days and set up camp for another (hopefully) brilliant Christmas with them.

No Name

My brother and mother bought each other half a kitten for Christmas - and she is absolutely freakin' adorable. She is also as yet unnamed, so I've been sending her many suggestions, but my brother doesn't seem super keen on any of my ideas.
Any input?

Alas. And some more random.

My phone rang again.

Still, I ended up having a rather interesting day, involving yet another flat battery in my car (and the mockery that ensued), spilling vodka all over my seats and a late night trip to Sexyland, whose clientele was unsurprisingly extremely seedy. I am currently waiting for my Nan's birthday cake to rise (hmm, it's gluten free - this might take a while) before I head down to Mum's to see her brand new, adorable kitten. Naww! I heart kittens.

I had yet another morning of hoping for a lay-in, but was woken to - wait for it - knocking on the wall. I mean....what? why? Instead of ripping a certain someone a new one, I calmly unleashed my inner zen and instead read through my travel journals and day dreamed extensively about my trip to New York, New York. Le sigh. One day...

I'm looking forward to my afternoon with the family - my uncle and cousin are also going to my Nan's (and yes, that completes my entire family in Australia) but I can see myself acting slightly as mediator - or doing my usual, and shutting my ears entirely to the conversation and stuffing myself full of chocolate ganache whilst contemplating just how I can steal the credit card and buy those Steven Madden Gladiators. You know, I think I like the latter option....

Pad Thai

Funeral Blues

I watched Four Weddings and a Funeral yesterday. I have always thought Funeral Blues by WH Auden is a beautiful poem, although horribly sad. I especially like the last two verses.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Is that morbid of me?

To sleep; perchance to dream.

I have awoken in an utterly foul state. Well, I exaggerate slightly: but I am, at least, decidedly morose. I had every intention of having a nice long sleep in this morning - aside from the fact it's been bucketing down for hours and everything is gloomy outside, I didn't get a whole lot of sleep the night before due to...well, a certain noise problem. Although I had an early one last night (Sarah and I made Pad Thai and watched chick flicks - could we be more rock n roll?) I was super keen to snuggle into my doona-cocoon with Phoenix and snore my head off for hours to come.

6am arrived, and so did Chef - sitting on the side of the bed watching movies on his phone at full volume. What? Why? If he had not have brought me a cup of tea half-filled with sugar (just the way I like it), there would have been disembowelment, I feel sure. As it was, he copped an earful. Several minutes later, he reemerged to chat about the weather, clearly not understanding that I seem to grow three extra sets of fangs and an amazing vocal pitch to my whining in the early part of the morning. After snapping his head off again, he left.

And came back half an hour later to ask why I hadn't told him I broke the back brakes on his car last night.

Uh...I don't know. Maybe because I didn't?

As I snuggled back down, ready for some more z's after that little debacle, Phoenix decided that although he had been outside only moments before, he felt like making another trip. Cue much grumbling, a little swearing and the complete inability to be arsed putting clothes on, and me standing out in the rain - naked for all the neighbors to see - calling his name. Again; back to the warmth of the covers.

....and my phone starts ringing. Sarah is sick. I am livid - not at her, at the way my brain is ceasing to function without wanting to tear people limb from damned limb. I am now, therefore, sitting in front of the laptop after calling to make sure Sarah is racking up sudoephedrine and various forms of penicillin so this evening's bash can still go ahead, and attempting to lighten my mood with a little LoL-Cats before I try - once more - to get a little sleep in.

Randomness.

I have an entire day all to myself - no plans, no job interviews, no sexy men beating down my door - and I have been looking forward to it for days. Now it has arrived... I have no idea what to do with myself.
Don't get me wrong - there is plenty of things I should be doing. There's an irritating little man on my shoulder telling me I need to wash the dishes before I settle down with an enormous coffee and the junk mail, but I'm feeling somewhat rebellious. And believe me, it's not like the dishes are going anywhere. It actually seems the longer I leave them, the more there are - bizarre, no?

So, whilst I contemplate the merits of wrapping some Christmas gifts versus watching Juno again, I thought I'd blog about some random things to waste some time. Here goes.

My birds are making a nest - and from the squeaks and grunts emanating from it, I'd say they're making other things, too. My two male birds, that is. Chef gave them some nesting material to do just that - make a nest and make some babies. Does anyone else find it bizarre he's encouraging my animals' homosexuality? Hmmm.

Sarah's birthday dinner last night was delicious - so much so, I felt rather ill. We managed to polish off 40 taco's between 6 of us, and two apple crumbles. And some mud cake. Ahh, good times.

As I was leaving to jump-start my car, I was informed the RACV does that kind of thing. Hmmm. I remember now why it is I joined them. Oh well! Next time. (We all know there will be one).

Sahara is doing well. She's able to walk around a little now - which obviously gives her the invitation to jump all over the couch, while I scream hysterically that her leg will fall off and spurt the wall with gore etc. She is, however, bored out of her brain. No walkies for another 2 weeks - but that doesn't stop her coming to Girls Night with me on Saturday and having a rip-roaring time with Van Wilder, (several bottles of) champagne, and some genital ice sculptures.

My phone is all pretty and pink now. I paid a nice Asian man exorbitant amounts of money to make it that way, and then I got busy with some nail-polish. All it needs now is some sparkles!
I need to get out more. No, like really.

Thursday night - Shopping & TGI's Night! - is on again this week, and I, for one, am extremely excited, but maybe for reasons not relating to maxing out several credit cards. And I fear I may never be able to show my face in TGI's again after last Friday night's antics with Jesus the bar-man. Oh my.

I'm heading down to my Nan's on Sunday for her birthday dinner. It's actually her 83rd on Friday, but she's having a big lunch with her friends, ditto Saturday, same on Sunday...but she's managed to pencil us in for sometime after 5pm Sunday, when she's back from the movies. I mean...really. She's turning in to such a social butterfly - not to mention a bit of a minx - these days. This also means she is ridiculously hard to buy gifts for. Mm, pot plant anyone?

I finally got all my over-seas Christmas cards sent off yesterday - all 20 of them. And of course, one to my vet. I swear I have a better relationship with him - and see more of him - than some of my previous boyfriends.
I'd buy him somethin' real pretty, but ya know, all my money has gone on keeping Sahara in pain relief - oh, and buying her two new legs.

I'm totally digging L-O-V-E by Joss Stone - it's the backing track on the Coco Mademoiselle ad with Keira Knightely and it doesn't seem to want to get out of my head.

Oh. And Phoenix? Phoenix is his usual self. I woke up from my nap to find the following. It's a good job his teeth aren't enormous or he weighs 40kg, 'cos you know, it'd really hurt if that were the case.

Note: To my friends who read this blog: the red eyes don't indicate he is possessed, I just hit the wrong button on my new phone and took it in night mode. To any potential burglars/stalkers etc - my dog is possessed, and he will kill you.

Christmas cheer? Hmmf.

I just popped over to the shops to do a spot of last minute present buying for Sarah's birthday present/general Christmas shopping. Although it was her actual birthday on Sunday, her sister was in Sydney over the weekend and had asked me to wait to give her the gift we had both bought her when she returned home this evening. As I emerged from the shopping centre - nauseated from vile carols, fighting to control the urge to king hit certain shoppers after being stabbed by their wrapping paper/delightful infants - I noticed a faint glow surrounding my car.

Yep. I did it again. I left my damn lights on.

As I fought my way through various shoppers, prams and screaming children, I had the vague hope the battery would still be fine - until I looked at my watch and realized I had been ensconced in the mall for the past 2 hours. The battery? Completely, utterly dead. Aside from the fact it was raining (what I refer to as 'British drizzle' - it looks light and misty, but soaks you through in moments), I also realized with a sinking heart I had parked in a spot completely inacecssible to the front of any one else's car, thus meaning a jump start was out of the question. Joy.

So, as I trudged home, grasping the large box of goodies for Sarah underneath half a plastic bag and an old jumper whilst I got drenched, I wasn't exactly filled with the Christmas Spirit.

So much so, in fact, I have every intention of eating all the Ferrero Rocher's I just purchased in an attempt to cheer myself up. Mmm, emotional eating at it's best.

Wanna see something grotesque?

Click here to see Sahara's mangled leg.






Note: Not recommended for those with weak constitutions.

Mass postage.

I'm having trouble with my comment form to reply to questions posed, so;

Sahara has just come around. She had somehow - without any idea as to how she possibly did it - removed the prosthetic ligament from her previous surgery. Like, she'd somehow ripped it off her bone. Subsequently, they have re-attached a new one - and as tight as pyshically possible. Her surgeon called to explain that she is extremely 'wobbly', has had 2 epidurals (no! her beautiful fur! It had nearly all grown back!) and is under observation as to whether she can come home tonight. She has yet to attack, kill or eat anyone.

And then he dropped the bombshell.

Apparently, as they were removing her catheter, the vet nurse inadvertently sliced open Sahara's front leg.

And I don't just mean a slight nick of the skin. Oh no. She's now being held together by staples in two of her legs.

I fear the surgeon may have thought I was slightly callous when I asked for a discount because of it.

O Hai. Mr LoL...

...right when I needed you, you have truly outdone yourself today.

(This one reminds me of someone. Oh, that's right. Me).

...and wait for it...

...LoL!

Phoenix says 'I miss you Sahara. Oh, and I'm stealing that Damned Pig'.

I've just dropped Sahara at the vets.
Usually, she needs a few liver treats to calm her down and get her to her usual loving and snuffly self - but today, she needed sedation.

Twice.

She was muzzled practically the moment she walked through the door - although the staff are absolutely wonderful (I should know. I practically keep them in business with my vast array of wildlife throughout the year) when Sahara knows something is going on, there's little to do but inject her.

Cue vomit. Profusely. Three times.

On my shoes.

I left her with her blankie and new toys (thanks, Sarah!) and practically ran out the door before I had another melt down in front of the vet nurse like last time.
Honestly, I have a more open relationship at that surgery than I've ever had with any man.

They did mention she was first in line for surgery - they're trying to get rid of her as soon as possible before she mauls any more of their employees gets too upset as she comes around.
Fingers crossed she can come home this evening - it might stop Phoenix sulking and Cleo running around the house squealing like a hyena looking for her.

The morning of.

I had a kind of late night last night. As a result, hauling my butt from the warmth of my doona-cocoon was not an easy task - until I remembered the reason I needed to be conscious. I fell into some jeans, donned a festy old jumper, shoved a cap on and discarded the idea of removing make-up remnants in order to make myself and Sahara a coffee. The fierce stand off between over that damned pig. Naturally, both broke their evil staring contest the moment I clicked the shutter.
As I was pouring the UHT - and shuddering at the thought of actually having to drink UHT milk, whilst silently congratulating myself for having the forethought to buy some because I know what I'm like at remembering to buy milk - I remembered Sahara was unable to eat or drink anything, as it would effect her anasthetic. I'd been remarkably cavalier about her second operation since I found out she needed it on Friday, but when I realized she couldn't share her morning brew with me - well, I got a little teary.

Guess who won?
So, in time honored tradition, I attempted taking a series of hilarious photographs to look at during the day to cheer me up.
Add her being in a crazy mood because she could sense something was up, and me being completely inept with the camera due to lack of caffeine (the UHT really was that bad), it wasn't quite as successful as I had hoped.
And so, it ended up as I knew it would - a blurry mess with Sahara jumping all over me like a thing possessed...and me letting her, because it'll be the last time she'll be able to do that for months.Sob.

Girls Night Mark II

... was awesome. We ended up leaving slightly later than anticipated - that city grime just would not come off - but when we got going, the fun began. First, we had to wait over 20 minutes for our train - and inevitably I needed to use the bathroom. If you knew the area I lived in - or more precisely, the actual train station we were at - you would understand my sheer terror at inadvertently receiving STDs concern. Now, Sarah and I like to think of ourselves as pretty easy going, laid back girls - more than happy to roll in mud and be covered head to foot in pet fur - but we draw the line at using public bathrooms. I am not exaggerating - we literally removed the antiseptic handwipes from our handbags and attempted opening the door with them, so as to avoid having to touch the germ infested place first hand. After that little expedition, we were free to sit and have a chat whilst we waited for our public transport. Until we got dripped on. I mentioned it was hot yesterday, right? Well, the station guys had the air con on inside their little hut, and no matter where we sat, we couldn't get out the way of the dripping, which luckily wasn't the bird poo we'd first thought it was.
Once we were on the train, we settled down with a quiet drink (until the nice policemen and ladies walked past, and we had to stuff them unceremoniously into our handbags and hope they wouldn't spill over the contents - the drinks I mean, not the police men) and completely over-shot our stop. Instead of just carrying on and going straight in to the city, we decided to hop off the train and make our way backwards - and luckily walked practically smack bang into a bus going to our chosen destination. After a rather hair raising ride (how do these people get their licenses??) we had arrived, but had to quickly stop off at Bra's & Things to try on some saucy lingerie. By the time we got to TGI's, we simply flopped; exhausted into our seat, which happened to be at the bar as we were awaiting a booth to become vacant - and were happily served up with two fish-bowls of Long Island Iced Tea, and a slightly smaller but more potent glass - for free. Naturally I got chatting to the nice Mauritian behind the counter - attempting to dazzle him with my wonderful French, which consists mainly of 'It's raining in the pretty garden' and 'the cat is sitting on the chair' - and we were soon given a booth, and served up an enormous platter of our favorite - carbohydrates and cheese. That kept us quiet for a while (ha!) but soon we had another personal favorite arrive - the Jack Daniels sauce. Drool. Although we didn't get up to anything remotely exciting to any one else, we still had an awesome time discussing the world - and, alright - giggling like school girls for hours.

It's one of the most entertaining and bizarre nights I've had for a long time - but seriously, who listens to Limp Bizkit these days?!

Dirt, sweat and more sweat.

Our cute blue shirts.

Although we got to the State Library over half an hour late, the rest of the team hadn't even set up. We donned our cute Appeal shirts, and soon some puppies began to arrive - I got chatting with one gorgeous pup and his equally gorgeous owner, only to realize several minutes later it was Tim Campbell. I have to say - he is the first celebrity I've met that I haven't been remotely uncomfortable around. He was absolutely lovely - friendly, fun, and reallysincere. After the CEO did the official Launch, Sarah and I grabbed our money tin and the Christmas decorations we were selling, and got on our way to making the most money out of any one. We get slightly competitive like that.

See? He's totally a fox.

We were only around in specific areas due to the permits for fund raising in the city, but within the hour we had received, lets face it, ass loads of money. We even got a single donation of $120 by an extremely attractive gay man (seemed to be the order of the day) because he liked our enthusiasm.

Dudley, the face of the launch, all grown up!

As we headed back to base to pack up for the day, we declared ourselves the winners by telling the Event Manager how much we had made - and then were informed we were 'too happy'. I mean...what? How can being friendly and having a laugh - whilst making loads of money for something we really believe in - be too enthusiastic? Bah. Still, we had a fun day, and I've only got another 40 minutes to get showered and pretty in preparation for Girls Night Awesomeness @ TGI's, Part II.

Over enthusiastic? Bah! Girls Just Wanna - and do - Have Fun.

*drips on the keyboard*

I'm just about to head into the city to do the RSPCA Christmas Appeal - and event which I absolutely loved last year - and was looking forward to the nice, cool 22 degrees the nice weatherman indicated today was going to be. Last year was about 26, and horribly muggy, so I was hoping to remain relatively sweat & grime free - until I woke up expecting rain, and instead realized I was wet for another reason - sweat. (You guys are gross - I know what you were thinking).

At 9am, it's already 25.4 degrees, and it's going to keeeeep going up. Ughhhhhh. It's going to be a LONG, hot day.

The only upside is - I am wearing a ridiculously short Abercrombie & Fitch skirt - I am hoping a) I wont be sent home for making a spectacle of myself with my ass hanging out and more to the point b) that I get a heap more donations. I love my logic.

I know, I know...

My blog is a bit... purple. I got started playing about with layouts, and have subsequently completely lost interest once I found out Sarah's pet products company is having a massive sale.
I shall return later, and potentially try and dim the mauve-ness a little.

My poor broken girl...again.

Las Thursday - night of the hilariousness at TGI's - I came home and Sahara was in the hallway. Usually she's been sneaky and will be snuggled in my bed, so I knew something was up. When I got her to stand up, she could barely walk - I knew straight away she'd done her leg, but I'd been praying she'd simply strained it. I couldn't look at her today without seeing she was not her usual self, so I took her to the vet - and they immediately sedated her and took her in for Xrays.

She's completely fucked her leg.

She goes in for surgery next week.

They don't know how she did it. They said there was nothing more I could have done - she might have slipped slightly, or even laid on it funny.
Whilst I was waiting for the vet to speak to me about possible surgery options, I sat cross legged on the floor with Sahara on my lap as she was so groggy and kept falling over, and I let myself have 5 minutes of complete and utter misery and feeling sorry for myself.
Although it's not the end of the world, it feels a bit like the end of my life. I was so happy to have this horse job, but now I'll need to be with her full-time again it doesn't seem viable to be able to do it, and it's going to be difficult over Christmas and so on and so forth.
And then I looked at my gorgeous girl who couldn't even hold up her head, and I snapped out of it.
I'm back to Mummy Mode. I gave her big cuddles, gave her some liver treats to nibble on then let her chose any toy she wanted, and she picked a hideous red pig from the display, and carried it outside and hasn't let it go since, as you can see from the photo.

I just cant help feeling like I've let her down, or haven't done absolutely everything I could to keep her happy and healthy. I feel like a bad mother.

This is why I love...

... My Mum.

I ran out to the mail box in eager anticipation as I do every day, and was delighted to find I had mail that didn't have the words 'final notice' stamped anywhere on it.

There was a nice big envelope for me - and the envelope was rather thick - so large, in fact, it cost more to send than a card to England would have. Inside was a big Christmas card from my Mum.

... there were also 4 other cards inside my big card. Never one to leave my children out (or incur my wrath) there was one for the dogs, one for the cat, one for the fishys, and one for the birdys.

I showed the cards to my rather disinterested pooches, and let Cleo carry hers around for a few moments before I opened it and displayed it for her.

The birds seemed rather terrified of theirs. The fish just asked for more food.
I've let my reindeer look after their cards.

True to form, Mum enclosed a little something special, just for me.
And yes. My 'real' name is Katrina.

It was a little concertina book on her hand-made marbled paper, covered in little Christmassy images, and little messages of love.

I think most people think we're slightly crazy, because we always send each other little things like this (and I've enclosed a card for her budgies in with her own, of course).
But this is exactly why I love my mum so much - she's always doing little things that mean so much.
And now I'm off to read all the articles and clippings from magazines she's cut out and sent me to keep me smiling :)

Rat: Bird Whisperer

I don't think I've ever posted about my father before. He did a lot of not very nice things to my mother and us when they were still married (they divorced when I was 3), and it's only been over the past few years I've really spoken to, or had anything to do with him. When we got back from the hospital yesterday, I don't think he wanted me to leave. But, as well as Sahara having been left for over 6 hours while I waited for him, I didn't feel too comfortable staying. There's only so many topics of conversation we can cover that don't lead to awkwardness.

So we sat out front and fed the baby magpies. I've never seen them so tame - they flew right up and sat on my arm, and took lumps of mangled cow from my hands. They were extremely gentle, and as they were young, their legs were covered in fluffy grey feathers - like little downy trousers.

Then, because I felt bad for leaving Rat as he was meant to have company all day to make sure he came out of anasthetic OK, I admired each individual Jeep in his collection before I left.

I called him before I went to bed to see if he was still alive.
He was.

...is anyone else...

having trouble viewing my blog?



(presumably if you are, you wont be able to read this anyway....I see a flaw in my plan).

My first day.

...was awesome, but oh, so tiring. I was in the saddle for over 6 hours, and working for over 8 all up. I never thought I'd be happy to get off a horse, but I did rather feel like my lady bits had all been rubbed off after around the 4 hour mark.
I had to get up super early again today - I took my father to hospital to have a bum probe as it seems he has some sort of bowel cancer problem - and miraculously, it was only my special area that was sore.
I'm awaiting to hear back - with fingers crossed they liked me - when I work again.

Morning!

I'm sitting here munching on my cream cheese and barbeque flavored potato chip sandwich before I have to chuck my riding boots on and head out the door. I had a bad ride yesterday followed by a grown up decision to not drink and drive myself home so I could be in bed at a reasonable hour, which kind of died in the arse when I found Chef had been trying to order hidden camera's to spy on my through the DVD - apparently he seems to think a) I'm so stupid I wouldn't see all the porn he watched whilst I was gone for 2 hours at my cousins house, and b) that I am having sex with people on our couch instead of trialing for a job. So I'm kind of not totally pumped for my job interview like I thought I would be.

I'm running late! I'll be back with news re: the job later!

P.S This is one of those moments where there's an awkward silence and no one knows what to say, right?

Last night.

I'm trying not to crack under peer pressure (or at least the one comment where Kat mentioned I hadn't explained why last evening was so funny). Last evening's antics weren't something that would be particularly blog-friendly (that might be a hint to Kat that no, perhaps I WASN'T a very good girl last night...) and perhaps may only be funny to myself and Sarah. Still, I'll mention the more tame parts...

As our server led us to our table at TGI's, she asked if we'd been watching a movie, as the restaurant is in the cinema complex. I said no, we'd just been doing a spot of retail therapy, as I was still under the impression boys sucked, and I need a new sport, like trying on 47 dresses in 3 hours and disliking all of them. She immediately said "ugh, I had boy trouble ALL last week" and took our order for delicious carbs and saturated fat cunningly disguised as Potato Twisters.

After she left, another girl popped up to take our drink orders, and - I'm unsure how - ended up sitting down with us giving us suggestions for the place we like to call Vag Valley - where only women roam free, unfettered by men and their silly ways - and where only a single Spanish butler exists, simply to tell us our slender our ankles look and to casually mention our beauty as he passes us another margarita. Men would be shipped in every 6 months for a 'service', and conveniently leave again after 24 hours. We would live happily in our village of Danoz direct (so we could get our jars open) and a lifetime membership at Sexyland (so we could get our...nevermind). We would each have a horse - and as many pets as we wanted without anyone questioning our authority on just how many puppies are too many puppies - and have unlimited access to Cadbury, which would clearly be re-invented so it contained no calories. There would be no dirty socks laying around. No half-arsed attempts at finishing the kitchen cabinets. All would be...

I'm losing my point. As she put forth her own suggestions - after clearly thinking we were insane for all of 3.2 seconds before realizing what a totally fabulous idea it really is - she dropped the startling bombshell that there was Happy Hour between 9pm and 11pm. Well, after she poured a nice little Smirnoff shot into my soft-drink at the very table, she told me it was cheaper - i.e HALF PRICE - to order drinks from the bar. Sarah was driving home; I naturally needed no further encouragement, and soon had 4 Long Island Iced Tea's lined up before me. Ahhh. I know it cuts into my 'not drinking ever again' theory after last Saturday, but heck, it was cheap, the barman was vaguely attractive, and I was in an awesome mood (unlike last Saturday...).

If Sarah and I were giggly before, this soon upped the ante. The table behind us soon vacated, and each time the male waiter - who clearly thought he was God's gift to women, but was sporting some sort of disturbing 1970's porn star facial fuzz - scuttled past, it seemed to be at an inopportune moment whilst I was saying something rude. I think he may have thought we were lesbians. We just about covered every topic of hilarity - which was mostly NSFW- last night. Or so it seemed at the time. We laughed until our faces ached, and our bellies joined in, too. And here endeth the bits I can share with the world.

See? I mentioned it would only be amusing to me.

Chicken - if you're reading this - Ahoy Sailor! or whatever the Army equivalent is.

TGI's & retail therapy.

I just had the funnest night ever. Ever.
But I do worry how I end up in these situations at times.
I'm fairly sure Sarah and I intimidated - and pissed off - most of the staff at TGI's, but boy, did we have a blast.

What do we think...

Of the new blog prettyness?

Anyone...?

The new man in my life.

His name is Izzy, he's off the race track and he's gorgeous. He's also mine to cuddle and canter anytime I want.

...And! I start my trial at the stables Sunday morning!

I have a rather sore...

everything. After breakfast at Boys with all 9 of us yesterday, I was raring to go for a ride - and ride I did! I booked in for a private, 3 hour ride through the bush, and although sadly Captain had cast a shoe just before I arrived, I had a lovely time with Diesel (who was just a little bit small for my liking at 15.2hh, but still enough of a handful to really make me feel alive). We tore it up through the scrub, and had fun shying at kangaroo's/trees/anything that moved - and found out two completely and utterly wonderfully amazing things. Firstly...the girl I was riding with, Zoe, offered me the use of her horse - dapple grey, 16.2hh, just off the track and needs some work any time I like. Any time I like! I told her she wouldn't be able to get rid of me. I'm awaiting a reply for what time I can take him down the beach today. I am so damn excited! (and my pockets are heaving a sigh of relief at not having to pay to ride someone else's horse...).

Secondly...she said I should try for a job at the trail riding place - so I did, and I'm starting a trial there! Which would mean I'd be spending my summer riding horses through the surf all day...and getting paid for it. Am I seeing something wrong with this picture?

No. No I am not.

Sweetness...

was the gift to me!

I just opened the door to find a large Express Post box awaiting me (I'd wondered why the dogs were barking insanely at the door whilst I was in the shower, and presumed there was an ax-wielding maniac in the house. This was a much nicer surprise).
It was addressed to me, from a lady called Corinne. Corinne? I don't know any Corinne's.
As I tore open the packaging thinking all sorts of thoughts about Anthrax and wondering who I'd pissed off lately, I was curious as to who it might be from - and then I saw the gorgeous card from Chicken, which held my attention for about 3 seconds before I realized there was a box of my favorite truffles next to it. The Mango & Raspberry are first on my hit list.
Now I feel like massive cow for being abusing Chicken when he stood me up.

(And even more of a bitch when I considered calling the Chocolate Box to tell whoever wrote the card 'truly' doesn't have an e in it).

Alright. All is forgiven Hen.
I'm such a pushover.

On a side note...I wonder if this Corinne had all sorts of interesting thoughts as to why Chicken was 'truly sorry' - rampant affair with the pool boy, maybe?

Sometimes I fell like my only friend...

...is the city I live in.

So.

I got stood up.

*swears profusely*

After 75 minutes aboard the train wondering why my fellow passengers have such an aversion to soap, and a further 25 spent waiting at the station with a meeting of Crack Whores Anonymous (who clearly, weren't so anon.), I was just about ready to call Chicken to tell him I was wasting valuable shopping time and he could meet me in Myer, when he TEXTED me to say he would be unable to attend. Riiiiight.

Let's just say he copped a rather offensive text in return. And another, telling him he owed me a pony.

Just as I was about to stomp my way to the nearest Starbucks (which happens to be my favorite Starbucks, what are the chances?) I received a call from my father. This was strange for two reasons: One - we'd talked in the past few weeks and thus he knew I was still alive and/or not pregnant with twins and living co-dependently with a crack habit and a pimp and Two: I usually call him first, thus making him call me back and saving my phone bill. Bizarre.

But not as weird as what was to follow. He called to tell me he needed to go to hospital to have what is presumed to be bowel cancer checked. More strangely - he asked me to drive him to and from his surgery. I can, quite honestly say, this is the first time my father has asked me for anything (except for maybe all that money back that I owe him).

I said yes, then chose not to dwell on it, for fear of actually comprehending what that might mean. And that would lead to a whole lot of heavy - and probably contradictory - emotions flitting about my skull. So I skulked on to my coffee shop in an attempt to lighten my mood - and, just like all other times, Starbucks did not fail me...

Me: Yes. Hello. I would like a Venti extra dry ginerbread latte with caramel in a holiday cup, please.
Server: Sure! Would you like whipped cream with that?
Me: Absofuckinglutely. I just got stood up. Pile that shit on.
Server: Bastard!
Raging queen barista: (pretending he's a black woman) Mmmhmm girlfriend!
Server: Aw honey, better now than when you're at the altar.
Me: Oh! No. It's not like tha....
Server: No, it never is, because they just can't commit. (Yells my order to the barista). Now honey - never mind the whip - do you want some whiskey with that?

And when my bucket of coffee wore off, and my caffeine hit fizzled, I wandered around my city wallowing in self pity, for reasons I couldn't quite put my finger on. I felt so extremely alone - and that was fine, I would have appreciated some company, but I'm a big girl now; I wasn't scared, or upset that it was just me. It was just realized I was so lonely - sure, I could text Sarah and joke about my coffee experience, or send mock-abusive ones to Chicken for standing me up, but when it came down to it - there was no one there to share what I'm thinking about my Dad, to know that every time I saw a man in a suit my heart gave an involuntary jolt thinking it was Him, or to stand and watch the heavy mist descend upon the city and realize my amazing city's weather was matching my heart.

Lost Girl lives on.

Is my posture always this bad?!

I'm meeting up with my good old pal Chicken tonight. Although we had the chance to catch up whilst we attended the horse races a few weekends back, I was a little pre-occupied trying to not snap my ankle in my heels, and he had to rush back to his Army base pretty early. So tonight I'm taking him to one of my all-time favorite places, World Bar - it's also home to some awfully-hard-to-think-about memories of Alex & I having dinner there. I think it's time I built some bridges and got the hell over him, and can think of no better place - and in no better company - to do that in and with.

Krispy Kreme brings out the best in us.

Unfortunately, on our last encounter, Chicken made the foolish choice in telling me I seemed to have grown up slightly. As I have a rather large Neverland fantasy, in which I plan to be a Lost Boy forever more (regardless of the fact girls are supposed to be too clever to get lost in the first place).
This revelation startled me. And then it got me thinking. Chicken rarely saw me without my famous sidekick and partner in crime, BB. When BB & I got together...well, it was always a laugh (although I think mainly just for us, not the general public). Since my best bud is living in another state and doing all sorts of exciting Grown Up things, it's up to me to defend our honor and carry on our legacy into our old age.

I was thinking of going to dinner dressed not dissimilarly to this.
Jeez, we were sexy.

I'm just a little unsure of how best to prove I am not the mature, responsibility worthy chick people -worryingly - seem to think I now am. I'm not above screeching seagull noises in public, or changing my voicemail to make me sound like I am David Attenborough on safari -two things we always found hilarious - but when it's just me, I fear I shall only come across as insane, and potentially get locked up. I'd considered meeting him wearing head to foot camouflage gear, complete with war paint and bits of shrub in my helmet, but again, the locking-up thing comes into play.

I really should have sued the woman who cut my hair before my deb.

Growing up is no fun any more. So I'm going to dwell on some of BB & my more amusing incidents in photographic evidence, just to cheer me up.

It's almost like being speechless.

The rules?
Answer the following questions in one word and then pass it on to seven others. Seven? Ahaha! Bec, this is yours next!


Where is your cell phone? Bed.

Where is your significant other? If only I knew. (That deserves more than a single word).

Your hair color? Mishmash.

Your mother? Brilliant.

Your father? Drunkard.

Your favorite thing? Animals.

Your dream last night? Freaky.

Your dream/goal? Happiness.

The room you’re in? Dining.

Your hobby? Bitching.

Your fear? Living.

Where do you want to be in 6 years? Comfortable.

Where were you last night? Decorating.

What you’re not? Reserved.

One of your wish-list items? Pony!

Where you grew up? Beach.

Last thing you did? Blog.

What are you wearing? Robe.

Your TV? Dusty.

Your pet? Pus-filled.

Your computer? Burning.

Your mood? Indifferent.

Missing someone? Yes

Your car? De-fib :)

Something you’re not wearing? Bra (hehe!)

Favorite store? ALL.

Your summer? Sweaty.

Love someone? Deeply.

Your favorite color? Pink.

When is the last time you laughed? Top-Gear (almost one..)

Last time you cried? Saturday.

Nuff said.

Failblog makes me giggle.

But LoLcats ALWAYS make me laugh.

Stuff. And Things. And stuff.

* I started putting my Christmas decorations up on Friday night. I was worried about Phoenix after discovering his lump, and getting really edgy, so I decided there was no better time for a lovely distraction like rolling in tinsel.

* I am totally digging the song Poker Face by Lady GaGa.

* I had a fun time at Sarah's girls night on Saturday, although there may have been some excessive consumption of alcohol on my part.

* The event of the weekend was Sarah finding me upset in her back bedroom on a call to Alex at said party, and her subsequently proceeding to absolutely rip the shit out of him, profusely, publicly and with many profanities. Twice.

* I woke up this morning with extremely sore buttocks. I am unaware as to why this is so. It may have been the badminton, the soccer, or the lawn bowls I played yesterday, or perhaps a combination of the three.

* Sahara, Phoenix and I are in a constant battle for supremacy. Because of this, going downstairs practically turns into a fight to the death. Both are convinced they should be going down in front of me; I disagree. As a result, I often leave 'obstacles' in their way to stop them knocking me over; alas, I tripped on a cardboard box this afternoon and landed in a heap at the bottom. Fortunately, Sahara was unable to rush past me, and therefore, I still won.

* I'm enjoying my brothers Long Lost Pal - Bec's - blog.

* I should really be doing something productive with my time - i.e finding something nutritional and delicious to gnaw on/hanging out another load of washing/attempt locating all 7 drawing pins Cleo has removed from the tin before they get embedded in my feet, but all I really want to do is dance around the living room decorating it in layers of tinsel and shiny things.

Goiter was a funny word until today.

I found this on Phoenix last night. It's nearly doubled in size this morning. I'm on my way to the vets, and I'm terrified. There's another one on his 'boy bits'. Please keep your finger's crossed it's something innocent and non-cancerous.

There is a God.

Richard Hammond and the Top Gear team are coming to Australia!
I am so there.