*gasp pant moan* (it's not what you think).

I just had my first personal training session.






* dies *





.

There's no nice way to put it...

I am a raging bitch from hell today.

Seriously, I'm scaring myself with how hormonal I am. Chef's taken to calling me Snappy Tom (which, curiously, makes me snap at him) and as well as the animals avoiding me at all costs, the Mac is practically shrinking away from my touch, perchance I have murderous thoughts about throwing it into the dog's water bowl.

One of the reasons I am, let's say, slightly horrid today, is that I feel like a bit of a failure. Ya know, being the ripe old age of 22 and having nothing to really show for it. My car's crap. I have a bathroom the color of giraffe crap. My dog's are all broken and my cat's deranged. The only thing I have are love handles, which are growing at an alarming rate; personal trainer or no personal trainer.

I want a real job. A grown up job. One that doesn't involve trudging through paddocks full of horse manure, being up to my elbows in freaks or having a mentally unbalanced Kelpie hanging from my sleeve. (Well, actually, I do want all that - and have it on a regular basis. Just remember I'm being a crazy woman today, and don't know what I'm saying).

I want to write.

And I do. I write all the time. Lists for this, lists for that, blog posts, random notes, cards to my Nan...but I want to do more of the thing I love. Settling down with a brilliant idea and nutting it all out on paper (Sorry, Mac! What am I saying! My ideas are so old fashioned sometimes). Sitting bolt upright in the middle of the night when inspiration randomly hits me, and actually following through with it in the morning. In a fit of mentioning to Chef I actually have a little notebook I write down plots, characters and dialogue in, there was a mad scramble around the house as he tried to find it. Alas, I am too good at hiding things (ha! It's actually in a deceptively simple location, which I shall not disclose for fear of him reading this and finding it). So, I got to thinking... if I do go back to school next year and complete my diploma in writing and editing..I actually have to write a novel. And as much as I throw ideas around and think they're wonderful...I can't see any of them culminating in a 250+ page book.

So, I'm throwing it out to all my lovely bloggy friends...

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your plots!

Oh! Precious Day!

After weeks - no, I take it back; months - of squashing my face against the window, longingly stroking the glass in their general direction, fantasizing about and generally living in hope that one day these shoes would be mine....

they are!

(The staff from the shoe store actually knew me, as I'd spent every Thursday night adoringly trying them on and staring at myself in the mirror for approximately twenty minutes, before sending photos of their beauty to each and every person I know). Also, doesn't TGI Friday's floor look particularly attractive? I couldn't make it through dinner - or more than five minutes - without lovingly staring at them, or pointing out their fabulousness to waiters/any general member of the public who was near me at the time. Oh, Happy Day!)

'I'm on the roaaaad again...'

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you read correctly - I am back online!

*raises a hand to quell the squeals of excitement*

But, instead of getting too deeply involved in this post and type actual news, I'm just going to update via a few of my wonderful photos.

Ah, it's good to be back :)

I know you must have missed him, so here he is. My handsome man, Phoenix.

Meet Axle, the Maremma. Axle likes to consume stilletos, hide under curtains, and generally walk into things. He's a very lovely ( and very fluffy) young man.

He smiles a lot.

My roadside assist team. Yep, contrary to what I entitled the headline of this post, I am not on the road. Mid lane, rush hour traffic yesterday - and I lost all power. Shockingly, I didn't go into hysterics, merely used a single, concise four letter word as I located my hazard lights, and veered over two lanes onto a grass embankment. 4 hours later, 2 tow trucks and a mechanic unable to fix it, I got home. Le sigh. (And yes. That is the only photo I have seen of my mother and father communicating since their wedding photo (and subsequent divorce) 20 years ago. I had to call him to offer her a lift home, as obviously I was unable to do so. This is going into some sort of archive.

Sahara and I on one of the long, looong drives home. We're so hot.

Pretending to be tourists at The Nobbies on one of our recent road trips.

The one and only time Sahara's been off lead for weeks. Moments after this, Phoenix took to the hills chasing rabbits, and we spent over an hour to locate him, frothing at the mouth and jubilant. He's so naughty. Little does he know he's going back to intensive training this week.

I spent ages trying to get a video of the waves crashing on the rocks, and this photo was the best of the lot.

Sahara just got back from the vet, after being sedated and x rayed .

Diagnosis: ruptured cruciate ligament.

Chef's and my trip to Queensland is now taking a backseat, and will be instead forking out thousands for her surgery. Luckily for her, it's not hip displaysia as first thought, so there's still a chance she will be able to walk and run again, and, fingers crossed, rule all the boys in her pack again.
As you can see, she's still a little dopey from her anesthetic. She doesn't take well to going to the vet, and was muzzled and sedated for not just the x rays, but any actual interaction that was needed with a human. My sweet little girl :)

... there will be more updates on a blog by thy dog, too! Check it!

Me + Stinkyness = Explosion.

As I hopped in the shower this morning, I waited for the hot water to warm up...and it never did. As a result, I have straggly, unwashed hair, and I smell with the power of many men.

Now, I like to think I don't have to rely on men too often, but when I called and asked why my hot water tank was being a bit of a bitch, I was informed I needed to relight the pilot light.

Stinky under arms and feral hair or not, there's no way I'm going near a gas tank with an open flame, no matter how 'easy and safe' I'm told it is.

This made me chortle.

more cat pictures

Greatest Hits.

I started this post off under an entirely different guise. I started searching back through my blog so I could specifically link something, and somewhere along the way - and this will come as a big shock - I got sidetracked. I've ended up randomly reading some of my old posts, and hell, I crack me up. I was so busy giggling at some of the things that happened last year ( here ), crying over some others ( here ) and generally getting worried about how much I drink, that I realized I had to do a bit of a Best Of.

So, here goes...

On Randomness:
- "On a totally different tangent - why do the train station underpasses in Melbourne always smell like a herd of cattle with UTI's have passed through them?"

- "... every time I sniff myself, I want to eat my arm off".

- "If I met him in person, he'd make me want to don a rhinestone encrusted dress and sway around the room like I have insect life in my panties".

- "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".

- "I think it went down well, although I accidentally implied I receive money for taking my top off in public".

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

- "As I was procrastinating over my menu choice, my pretty new necklace someone how became lodged. In my Mac.... I nearly garotted myself with the bloody thing when I hung up.
How do I get myself into these situations? How? Why?"

- *spontaneously combusts with excitement*
"Everyone else - please ignore this post".

On Drinking:
- "I don't just drink with any random people, ya know; I liked this girl. I thought it was mutual".

- "Yesterday was The Wedding, and silly me did exactly as I planned, and got rip roaringly sloshed on a 4 litre cask of wine, a bottle of champagne and a kettle full of bacardi. (Yes. A kettle. At this stage, my ability to find a jug or other liquid dispensing device was limited)".

- "I was going to add photographic evidence of my drunken decline throughout the evening, but they're just too embarrassing. I tend to lean a lot the more I drink, and then I start squinting in an attempt to prove I'm not tipsy. Not hot".

- "But still. I had visions of quietly nursing my visit from the Hangover Fairy with a good book, some big sunglasses and a nice bottle of freshly squeezed juice, then drowning my sorrows (and possibly myself) in the ocean this afternoon, after a nice brunch in a water front cafe. Is that too much to ask?".

On Food and Dieting:
- "Usually, I am so excited by anything I fit into in a small I sprout a rosy glow and wear it with pride, thinking I've poured myself into an 8-10. I even took an array of XXS and XS in the changing room, but they were all extremely see through or made me look 5 months sperminated".

- "And I wondered for a few moments why this specific photo (thank you, google images!) was named 'legal brownies', and why there was a mint leaf on the plate. I'll admit it. My first thought was of how damn tasty Mint Baileys Irish Cream is. Followed closely by MMMM! Mint brownies!
...I think perhaps that sprig is of an altogether different species of plant".

- **devours the remaining American chocolate in a fit of emotional eating*
I sometimes think it's a miracle there's no hard liquor or illegal substances in my house".

- "Do clear icy poles - like lemonade flavor - have less calories than the red ones, simply because they have less color?".

Basil's Poem:
We who choose to surround ourselves with -
lives even more temporary than our own,
live within a fragile circle;
easily and often breached.
Unable to accept its awful gaps,
we would still live no other way.
We cherish memory as the only certain immortality,
never fully understanding the necessary plan.

Good or bad, I am who I am because...

...of the following.

My mum. She's more like my sister, and has put up with endless amounts of crap over the years while still being my closest confidante. Horses. My biggest passion, and one which will never fade. For as long as I can recall, I've craved being around them. Phoenix & Sahara. For keeping my secrets, snuggling when it's cold, sharing my love of the beach and bringing me all sorts of new friends. Starbucks. My place to dream. I can sit for hours in the comfy chairs, and pretend to be an entirely different person under big sunnies, as I people watch and make up the lives of everyone who walks past. I have to limit how often I can do so it keeps the magic. Thirsty Merc. A song for every occasion, every occasion has a memory of a song. England. My second home, and a place that holds many memories of happy childhood stuff. Nothing compares to it. BB & Chicken. My oldest and closest friends. No matter how far apart we're flung these days, we can always pick up where we left off when we catch up. Pets. We always had rabbits and a dog growing up, and they shared all sorts of silly ideas, secrets and private jokes in the difficult times. Being tall. I was 5ft9 when I was 13, and always hated it. Now I feel proud I can stand taller than most girls (and quite a few guys), and I've learnt to love my long legs. My Nan. Her cooking and her stories are better than anyone elses. I always feel at home when I'm with her. Photos. We always had photos covering any spare inch of wall when I was growing up, and I keep that tradition now - except it's mainly on my phone and computer. I love being surrounded by great times. Cheese & Potato. I could quite happily eat it every day for the rest of my life. Dad. I'm stronger for not having one around, I think. The Beach. I feel incomplete unless I have sand under my toes, and I yearn for it no matter what time of year. Theres always treasure to find, dreams to be mulled over, and sunbaking to do. Alex. For loving me pretty much unconditionally, dealing with my shit and making me smile. That guy deserves a medal. Juno. I just fell in love with this movie. She's everything I want to be. Except pregnant, of course. Airports. Although I actually need to be sedated to step aboard a plane, there's an amazing energy at airports - the prospect of adventure is so exciting. Cups of Tea. Being British, it's genetically installed to fix any disaster. Chef. He kept me on my feet in my bubble of loneliness in England, and showed me a world I could never imagine once I returned. Orange and Cinnamon candles. Are the best from Ikea. No matter what time, I always have one burning. I just love the smell. Gordon Ramsay and Jamie Oliver. I was always fascinated by chefs, and there's something so fundamentally British about Jamie that makes me homesick. The Pedophile. Aside from the incidents themselves, the ensuing 5 years of court cases, beating beaten up daily and having to switch schools 3 times. losing my friends etc was actually worse. The only way I got over it was to realize that if I can survive that, I can get through anything. Driving. My freedom. Robbie Williams. When things get bad, jumping in the car, chucking a Robbie CD in and driving to the beach fixes the worst foul mood. His lyrics are amazing. Apple Mac. Once you go Mac, you never go back. The city.There's something so exciting, yet therapeutic about jumping on a train and seeing the sky scrapers loom closer. You can be as anonymous as you want in the city. Love Actually. This movie blew my mind, again and again. It's such a powerful message delivered in such commercial way. There's a quote for every moment in it, and it never fails to make me laugh. Ben. He gave me wings. Baths. Winter or Summer, my body yearns to be enveloped in warm water. It's my place to think, make decisions, and my haven to read. Reading. No matter what, I have to have text in front of me at breakfast. Whether it's the back of the milk carton or one of the ten books I take out from the library each week. It's thought provoking, exciting, life changing escapism.

I am, literally, too excited to type a subject.

I've blogged about them before.
I mentioned they were my all time favorite band.
That any time I hear a song of theirs, it will bring back countless of my favorite memories.
I've said that I listened to them non stop on my lone trip around England, and to me, they are the band that signifies my growing up.
This therefore means I know each, and every song, off by heart.
I have practically worn holes in both of their CD's - both of which are the only two discs I have actually bought in over three years.
They also have the pleasure of holding the title of singing My All Time Favorite Song.

(Which, funnily enough, doesn't work via Foxytunes. Grr. So I'll bang in some video's instead).

Thirsty Merc are touring Victoria. They are playing at two venues less than 10km from me.
I have goosebumps just thinking about it. As an indication of how deeply I love them: I've never been to a concert before. (Minus the high school get ups with semi-famous bands way back in the day). I'd never really wanted to. I kind of figured you had to either have dread-locks and not shave under your arms, or wear a lot of black, swear loudly and be excessively pierced.

The tickets are only $33.50. Thirty three dollars! I rushed online to buy them, clicked on '2' and then realized...

I have no one to go with. Since meeting Ben, who's just as big a fan as I am, and has, in fact taunted me with the fact he's met them before, I presumed I would share the experience with him.

That kind of died in the arse.

So, the question is - can I be strong enough to go it alone, and spend possibly the greatest night of my life listening to the greatest band in the world, or settle for less and drag along an unwilling third party with the potential to wreck my happy bubble with their incessant moaning and inability to have fun.

Decisions, decisions.

My song :)

I've got the grumbles.

I'm having a bad day. Not that anything has gone wrong, per se, I'm just feeling shitty and down, and moody and grumpy. A bad combination, wouldn't you agree?

And all for a heap of reasons, none of which really make any sense. I can hear myself being a bitch to people; I know my thought patterns today aren't very wholesome or good, yet I can't quite snap out of it. I'd like to put it down to sleep deprivation, but I've actually had a whole lot of zzz's, even though my dreams have been filled with not so nice things lately. I wouldn't call them nightmares as such, just really vivid dreams about things I'd rather not think about. And the same recurring horrible one involving The Pedophile and my father throwing knives at me from behind a couch in a creepily Sidekick Bob kind of way. Shudder.

So I haven't a lot to blog. I had a great weekend away, even though it made things a whole lot worse with Chef and I - something I actually didn't think was humanly possible - and as the dogs had such a wonderful time, they haven't made it out of bed yet. I'd feel mean dragging their exhausted arses to the beach when they're hardly able to walk without falling asleep, yet I feel the need to get away and not so much relax as...unwind. I need some sort of brain-fog clearing miracle that usually only sand under my feet or excessively speeding in my car while singing to Robbie Williams can give me.

I was meant to get my hair cut today, but I can't afford it. Instead I need to go buy leafy green vegetables and organic dead animals to gnaw on instead of my usual-of-late junk food, as Jamie Oliver's 'Eat To Save Your Life' series has scared me into a horrifying heath and fitness regime.

All I crave is chocolate.

I'm also shitty about the upcoming weekend. Chef's going to see his family for some sort of belated birthday dinner, and spending the weekend down there as he wants to go see some sort of four wheel driving competition going on. I'd said I wanted to go - and kind of do - as I love mud, big cars and throbbing engines as much as the next girl (or perhaps slightly more..) but due to my foul mood, I changed my mind and decided I'd attempt a guilt trip about the fact I never get to dress up. Seriously. I'm upset about the fact I spend my life in baggy jeans and slippers, covered in mud and with feral, uncut hair. Usually I can think of nothing better, but when it's dragging on to the 2nd year running since we've been out to dinner together or anything of the sort, it starts to piss me off I have no reason to wear any of the shoes I'm so addicted to buying.

And where did that leave me? Stuck at home alone all weekend with the dogs. A recurring theme to every other weekend when I can't have my own life as I have to baby sit my canine children. Sigh.

I'd really like to snap out of this soon, because the idea of selling all my shoes to fund my growing need for track pants and ugg boots is just not appealing.