I got soul, but I'm not a soldier

I was just on the phone to the Chef, placing my order for disgustingly fatty take out as an afternoon snack. You'd really think with his cooking capabilities I'd eat decent food, alas, I get sick of waiting several hours for him to fart around in the kitchen preparing a masterpiece.

But I digress.

As I was procrastinating over my menu choice, my pretty new necklace someone how became lodged. In my Mac. In that tiny little hole that clips the bugger shut. See? I nearly garotted myself with the bloody thing when I hung up.




How do I get myself into these situations? How? Why?



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Now playing: The Killers - All These Things That I've Done
via FoxyTunes

I've got wheels of polished steel

Yep. It's official. I can talk a lot of crap. Hence taking part in NaBloPoMo - National Blog Posting Month. Basically, I'm posting even more dellusional rants about nothing on more than one site! How excitement.

P.S Excuse my bitterness. I have a large green monster on my back today, poking me re: friends meeting dashing new men and jet setting around the globe, or generally picking up roots and gallavanting around the world.

*sobs quietly into her nearly expired passport*

Perhaps I can consider selling the signed copy of Maykbe Diva I received yesterday, and bugger off somewhere exotic and pretend to be a kept woman, slobbing by the poolside drinking curiously colored cocktails and reading trashy holiday romances.



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Now playing: Cake - Satan Is My Motor
via FoxyTunes

My Moon My Man

Oh. My Gosh.

The Chef just called to tell me he was working for a jockey today.

I'd just stumbled from my bed, and wasn't altogether excited by this news - until I heard his name. Oh my fuck and arse. I'm sure I'll be slapped with some sort of lawsuit for putting his name in my blog, so for safety sake I shant. But he was the guy who rode Fields of Omagh to victory in the Cox Plate twice. The man spurred Helenus to glory in the Darby last year. The list goes on. I told Chef to either get his

boobs signed by him, or steal me something from his house I can sell on eBay and make my fortune from. He declined both offers.

What's wrong with men?

UPDATE: He produced a photograph of himself riding Makybe Diva, signed it 'To Katie - All the Best! - - - - - (remember that law suit?!) and gave it to Chef for me, which I then framed immediately and hung above my bed.

(Here is a photo of me with 2007 Cup Winner Might and Power. He was in the same paddock as Fields of Omagh. I even have a connection with his horse).



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Now playing: Feist - My Moon My Man

I heart Taco Bill.

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Now playing: Shaggy - Bonafide Girl Featuring Rik Rok And Tony Gold
via FoxyTunes

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.