Tagged: Blog
And that’s why I stopped driving to work in my thongs…
Yep, you read it right. Last week I drove to work in my thongs and it ended in disaster.
For those of you from the USA who read my blog, I know, I know… and yes, I was driving to work in my thongs – two of them – and when I got there I realized I had no shoes on!
Confused? Don’t worry, so was I!
As everyone in my life knows all too well – I am a complete shambles at the best of times. I fall over, run into things, accidentally tell strangers that I love them, forget how to get home and vomit regularly. However, in recent months, I had been reaching all new levels of coordination and things were going swimmingly.
No longer was I the bitter, sarcastic blogger who dated psychopaths and had an unreasonable fear of fake hair… As I said to another blogger several months ago, it’s hard to blog sarcastically when you’re happy with life… (and yes, contrary to popular belief, I had been getting out of the house at that point in time!)
Alas, it all came unraveled when I wore my thongs on the drive to work on Thursday. I had stayed at my boyfriend’s house, which sends me on a total different route to work and it was one of the first really warm days of the year, so I had just thrown my thongs on at the last minute as I ran out the door, not thinking much of it. I’m someone who avoids shoes at all costs, so I always keep a pair of work flats on the car floor for everyday use.
Unfortunately I didn’t think much of the fact that I had sent my car in to be serviced either, and the car that I had borrowed (strangely) did not come with a pair of emergency shoes on the passenger side floor. So, to cut a long, dramatic morning short, I turned up to work with no shoes, frantically yelling out to a colleague across the carpark something along the lines of ‘My shoes! My shoes! No shoes! No shoes! OMG! Shambles! HELP! HELP!’ while waving both arms frantically in the air…
Ah, you know that look of panic people get as they desperately think of a way they can pretend they don’t know? Yep, that look is ALLLL too familiar for me!
So half an hour and one trip to Kmart later, I had a pair of $8 shoes making my feet sweat and I was back on track. Or so I thought…
This morning, I took the same route to work. I was back in my own car (spare shoes and all) and for a Monday, the day was looking fine. About half way through my drive, I switched my handsfree thingemy on in case I got a call, as I’d thrown my bag somewhere in the back of the car and had no chance of reaching my phone if I needed it.
Beep… Beeep… attempting to connect… no phone found… attempting to connect… no phone found…
Shizzle.
After a small panic, I ran into the office, waving my arms in the air like a madwoman. My colleagues have come to await the daily drama that tends to signify my arrival, so there was an air of anticipation as I ran into the office yelling ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got my shoes! I DON’T have my mobile phone but it’s going to be OKAY!’
Being a Gen Y girl and lacking the ability to memorise a single phone number since about 1999, I had no idea what my boyfriends phone number is. So I called myself. No answer. Redial…
‘oh shizzzzzz’
Yep, oh shizz indeed! But we had a plan, boyfriend would drop phone to my office at lunchtime and I would buy him lunch, which I did. I was all ‘sit down, get comfortable, let me buy your lunch and drink and prove my gratitude for you driving halfway across Melbourne for me…’
And then it fell apart…
In an effort to be super helpful and after I was clearly told the squeezy ketchup sachet wasn’t opening, I insisted on having a crack at it and with all my strength, attempted to outsmart what was, I swear, the most complicated condiment packaging ever made.
Unfortunately… the ketchup won…
We were both covered. As was our table, my bag, the entire pile of napkins on the table, the chair next to me… and the random stranger sitting no less than two metres away from me.
I spent the entire afternoon pulling pieces of dry, crusty ketchup from my ponytail and fringe while randomly bursting out in fits of giggles.
I took it as a sign I had been neglecting my blog.
The universe has spoken. I will blog more.
I will also stop wearing thongs in the car… Except on weekends and public holidays.
And possibly also eating ketchup.
Also – I’m still scared of fake hair.
Beautiful Blogger Award
Arrrrrrrghhhhhhhh! I just sat down to write a post and realised that – shock horror – I haven’t posted since 5 June! 5 JUNE! I’m not even joking! Fail! Fail! Bad terrible blogger! How will I get discovered and have my life story turned into a made-for-television movie acting like this??
I have so many posts planned to write and I’ve been sitting here, staring blankly at the screen unable to finish even one of them. So, to get myself back in the blogging space I have decided to FINALLY pass on the Beautiful Blogger Award that was kindly given to me last month.
The guidelines are as follows:
- List seven random facts about yourself
- Post a link to the blog of the person who nominated you
- Link to seven other bloggers who are deserving of the award
- Let those bloggers know that you have nominated them
So, seven random facts that you don’t know about me already…
- I just scored some sweet-as pink flamingos for my front garden, which are currently brightening my life. How COOL are they?!?!?
- I HATE winter and am struggling as this is the first full winter I’ve had in a long time. I mean full as in I’m not chasing warmer climates this year, unlike most! Nope, no trip to New York this year… or Hawaii… or anywhere… two more months. TWO MORE MONTHS and it will be over!
- Earlier this evening, I deleted someone from Facebook who I had been meaning to delete for ages. I’m not a Facebook hussy and like to keep my friends to people that I actually don’t mind sharing my life with. This person was not one of these people. It’s a long story.
- I haven’t cleaned my house for WEEKS! True story. I can sense your judgement and I’m committed to cleaning it this weekend!
- My favourite city in the world is New York. Nothing beats summertime in NYC!
- I desperately want to go to India. Like, soon. Like, desperately! Like, for serious!
- I might have cooked my dogs a steak for dinner tonight. Hold your judgement.
Post a link to the blog of the person who nominated you:
The lovely Jennifaye! Yep, go check out her blog! She writes much better than me AND she doesn’t abandon her followers for five weeks in a row… eek!
Link to seven other bloggers who deserve the award:
- http://raisingmyrainbow.com/ – If you haven’t read this one already, do it now!
- http://gojulesgo.com/
- http://pithypants.com/ – why branch out on my recommendations when they’re so funny?
- http://catherinebuday.wordpress.com/ – The tips for a summer day took my mind of the crappy weather for a moment…
- http://searchingforagentdalecooper.wordpress.com/ – Okay, so I haven’t read this properly, but it’s a blog dedicated to Dale Cooper from Twin Peaks!
- http://livinginfairyland.wordpress.com/
- I’m out of suggestions, so I’m sticking with 6!
Let them know they’ve been nominated – I’m on it!
Woo hoo! Real post coming soon, I promise!
Tag – You’re It!
So today I was nominated for the Beautiful Blogger Award by the lovely Jennifaye. Yay! Although this reminded me that I had also been tagged by nosugarjustspice WEEKS ago and I totally forgot! So, I’m starting with the earlier tag and, if I have time, will roll right on through to the more recent one!
First up, the one I am going to refer to as ‘Blog Tag’, has the following rules:
1. You must post the rules
2. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post
3. Create eleven new questions to ask the people you’ve tagged
4. Tag eleven people with a link to your post
5. Let them know you tagged them
And the questions posted by nosugarjustspice and my answers are:
1. What’s the most exciting thing you’ve done in the last year?
Ooohhhh, quit my job, which I did just a few weeks ago! Exciting times are ahead!
2. Favourite 80’s movie?
Girls Just Want to Have Fun!
3. Do you still have toys from when you were a child?
Yes, and sadly some are still in my bedroom. I just can’t let them go and keep telling myself that they’ll mean so much to my kids when I pass them on (note – I have no kids and don’t expect to have any for quite a while still!)… except Sealy Lorne, who is my number 1!
4. You’re being sent to Biosphere 2 for a year and can only take one person, who would it be?
Hmmm… only for a year? Would I have any means of communication with other people? Argh, I can’t decide!
5. If you could be a member of the opposite sex for a day, would you?
No way! Haha!
6. Is there anything in the area surrounding you right now that could be used to fight zombies in the apocalypse?
Yep, a MASSIVE aerosol can of Fudge Skyscraper hairspray.
7. How many alarms does it take to wake you up of a morning? (It takes me 5)
Two alarms, which start at 7.15 and 7.20 and keep getting snoozed until about 7.50-8am. I HATE mornings!
8. Hollywood is remaking your favourite movie ever and wants you to play your favourite character from that movie, which movie is it and who are you playing?
Amelie and Amelie!
9. What are 5 terms/names/etc you wish you had never heard and could be removed history?
The first thing to come to mind is too horrid to share, but I had to ask blogger Lyndon Keane to translate and we both regret googling as soon as we had done so… no further comment on that.
Second, third, fourth and fifth would be babe (as in people refer to each other as this), moist, Hugh (as in the name, because I can’t pronounce it) and… Mash (just the mention of it makes me feel sick)!
10. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve done when drunk?
Oh, there’s way too many to narrow it down… In recent months projectile vomiting all over my luggage and the hotel room floor would probably be the worst of it.
11. If you could wake up tomorrow and walk into your dream job what would it be?
Professional world traveller and gazillionaire 
And eleven new questions:
- What’s one city in the world that you’ve always wanted to visit and why?
- What is your biggest fear?
- Have you ever seen a ghost?
- What is your guilty pleasure?
- If you could have any animal in the world as a pet, what animal would it be?
- Are you a dog or a cat person?
- If you could have one superpower, what would it be?
- What’s your favourite song of all time?
- When you were young, what did you plan to be when you grew up?
- Chips and salad or roast potatoes and vegetables?
- If you won a million dollars, what would you do/buy first?
And the eleven blogs that I tag are…
- www.frugalistablog.com (for her great Kristen Stewart impersonation)
- www.findingravity.com
- www.somethingswedish.wordpress.com
- www.housewifedownunder.wordpress.com
- www.paltrymeanderings.com
- www.beetleandswan.wordpress.com
- www.pithypants.com
- www.mikesilvia.wordpress.com
- www.disseminatedthought.wordpress.com
- www.torinelson.wordpress.com
- www.simonandfinn.com (the baby mouse deer made me cry
)
I hope you enjoy these blogs as much as I do!
Okay, having just done this one and with seven more blogs to nominate, I’m going to take a few days to complete the Beautiful Blogger Award! Phew!
Never Trust a Man Who Gives You Flowers
I have always been told that when you receive flowers from a man for no apparent reason, it’s a sign that he is cheating on you. I don’t exactly agree with this theory, but I do find the whole flower-giving thing fascinating.
I remember being younger and always wanting a nice boy to give me flowers. Not some crummy bunch of roses or, even worse, a single rose, but a pretty, well-planned and thoughtful bunch of flowers, which may or may not feature lilies or something similar.
But the flowers I envisaged and the flowers I actually got back then were vastly different. The lilies were replaced by god-awful weed-like flowers and the beautiful, ribbon-bound box was replaced by clear and white flowery glad-wrap that screamed of having been bought in a hospital foyer or stolen from a cemetery.
As I got a bit older, I completely lost interest in flowers. I never expected them and never really got them, but when I was about 25, I started to notice that they were making a comeback. Gone were the days, however, of flowers bringing joy and happiness.
First, there was the bunch that arrived with the statement ‘I might have an STD…’ (please note that the might turned out to be a definitely did not) and then there were the ones that came shriveled up after being hidden behind the heater in the lounge room for an indeterminate period of time, resulting in me arriving late for work after being ordered to go to the florist to exchange them…
Yep, flowers weren’t so glamorous anymore. They brought disease scares, anger and embarrassing encounters with florists. But I am a girl and don’t we all, deep down, dream of one day receiving flowers from a secret admirer declaring their undying love for us?
What we don’t realise though, is that this is actually the behavior of sociopaths and serial killers… and holiday crashers… yep, holiday crashers!
I mean, if you really think about it, if a person has the ability to interact with people, hold a conversation and enter into a real-life relationship, why wouldn’t they just mosey on over and ask you out? Alas, hindsight is a wonderful thing…
Back in 2009, I was a few months into my current (recently resigned from) job. Part of my role back then was to do presentations to young people about living and working overseas. Me being me, this involved lots of goofiness, many bad jokes and technical disasters.
My main problem with these presentations was that if I told a joke or a story that should get a laugh didn’t, I would just keep on pushing… bad joke after bad joke… higher pitch… faster talking… and it would start getting just plain awkward.
For example, I was once talking about San Francisco and started telling the story about riding a bike over the Golden Gate Bridge, taking a wrong turn (can you even take a wrong turn?) and ending up going overland to Sausalito all the while turning right involuntarily because I get balance issues when riding in the wind…
Alas, after being met by dead silence, this story led to the one about getting lost on a ‘quick drive’ before returning the hire car, the one about accidentally offending a group of dutch backpackers after telling one that his friend smelt like cabbage and finally wrapping it up with a declaration that I love San Fran because the hills made me feel like I was in Full House…
Silence.
You know, FULL HOUSE?
Silence.
It must be my lisp, audience does not comprehend… Cue terrible attempt at singing the Full House theme song:
Everywhere you look… everywhere you go (there’s a heart)… There’s a heart, a hand to hold onto.
Silence… crickets chirping… tumble weeds rolling through the room… you get the idea.
To this day I tell myself the crowd were just too young. They clearly didn’t know Mary-Kate and Ashley when they were knee-high to a grasshopper!
But back to my story, I was having one of these HORRIBLE evenings where the crowd was giving me absolutely nothing. No number of cheesy jokes, funny stories or even crowd interaction was saving it and besides one over enthusiastic guy in the second row, whose fake laugh was way too elaborate to be genuine, the audience were having none of it.
So you can imagine my complete shock when a massive bunch of roses turned up at my office two days later with a card that read:
Dear Tennizzle
I saw your presentation the other night and have been thinking about you ever since. Do you want to go for a drink sometime?
Michelangelo* 0404992883*
My colleagues and I tried to think of who it could be, with one suggesting it was ‘probably that one person who was laughing at your jokes!’ and after some crafty investigation, I had a full name and an email address.
Looking back, I should have read between the lines, seen the unwritten references to kidney stealing and paid attention to the music that started repeating in my head.
But really, the guy had made a pretty big effort and as someone who cannot even remember having asked anyone on a date before, who was I to reject someone without even meeting them?
So, I went on a date with him and despite there being no chemistry whatsoever and him judging me for liking Simon and Garfunkel while saying his favourite type of music was ‘anything they play on Triple J’… I didn’t regret it. I told him I wasn’t interested, we agreed we would be friends, added each other on Facebook and caught up a few more times before he went overseas.
Fast-forward to early 2011 when I was planning a work trip to Canada, followed by a week of Tennizzlle-time in New York City on the way home. I was contacting a few business partners and customers who were over there to catch up, one of whom was this guy. He wasn’t going to be in the cities I was visiting in Canada, but was going to NY with some friends around that time. I sent him my dates and said we’d have a drink if we crossed paths.
A week before I left, he emailed saying he had great news, it turns out we were going to be in NYC at the same time, so we agreed to have a drink. It all seemed so normal…
We met at a bar downtown before dinner and had a quick beer. We had the quick catch up, how’s life, blah blah blah, and then I asked him ‘So, what are you even doing in New York?’
His response: ‘I came to New York to spend the week with you’
This guy had driven from Montreal to New York to holiday with me… without me knowing.
After a few deep breathes, I talked myself into it. I’m the queen of miscommunication and I probably misunderstood something along the way. I’m sure it’s fine, when he says SPEND the week with me, he doesn’t mean SPEND the week with me. Nervous laugh, nervous laugh…
That was Thursday night.
By Friday, it was clear that he did actually mean spend the entire week with me…. Every single second of it…
‘Oh, you want to go to Forever 21 and try on seventy dresses? I’ll come!’
‘Oh, you want to purchase outfits for your dogs? That sounds like great fun!’
‘Should we plan out all our evenings in advance and buy tickets to everything?’
‘Let’s go to the farmers market and buy some food to cook in the luxury Soho apartment I have rented for us to hang out in’
By Saturday, I had lost my shit. Somewhere between Canal Street and Union Square, after being dragged around by his know-it-all self all afternoon trying to find ‘the best coffee in New York’, I had had enough. I hadn’t spoken to him for at least an hour when I made my escape, yelling something along the lines of ‘Space! Tennizzlle time! Forever 21!’ before throwing myself into the midst of a crowd of fast moving locals and running for my life.
A few months later, I was at work one afternoon and received a text message from a US number.
‘Hey, are you free to catch up?’
Assuming it was someone from our US office, I responded ‘Yeah, sure, but I have no idea who this is!’
‘Oh, sorry, it’s Michelangelo*, I’m in Melbourne but still using my Canadian number’
…
*Delete*
These days, if I want flowers, I just go buy myself some damn flowers. They’ll always be tasteful, they won’t be on the verge of death, they won’t die overnight and I will be able to sleep soundly in the knowledge that my kidneys will still be attached when I wake up in the morning.
NB – In doing a little Google research for this post, I typed ‘Flowers from a man’ into the search bar. I love the predictions Google comes up with and where they lead you. This time, I got ‘flowers from a man who shot your cousin’… as you do!
Also, if you were thinking about sending me flowers, feel free! I like lilies (just in case you didn’t get that) and I will accept them graciously. Just don’t be expecting me to go on a date with you afterwards!
*names and numbers have been changed, though not very well
Will Write for Food
Last week I quit my job.
Most people who know me saw it coming, but for the many people I know through work, it was completely unexpected. So far, everyone has reacted with ‘Omg, what’s happened?’ and I suspect, knowing my tendency for dramatics, they are assuming that I cracked without warning, slamming the manual lift door while screaming ‘I QUIT!’ and storming off down La Trobe Street.
Alas, it was not so exciting and unlike the time someone put spag bol all over the bin in the midst of a bug infestation or the time I realised someone was stealing the toilet paper (I still have my suspicions, but no proof), there was absolutely no hysterics.
Resigning was a massive relief and although I had a TINY panic attack in between being offered my new job and quitting my current one, it wasn’t long before I was getting excited about taking a huge step off my current career path and throwing caution to the wind.
There’s something liberating about having absolutely no idea what the heck you will be doing a year from now, and, to quote my ever-unreliable Fortune Telling Fairy Cards, I am moving forward fearlessly!
Gone are the days of work-related panic attacks and swatting bugs as I sit at my desk – it’s time for freedom, creativity and full, uninterrupted nights of sleep! Woo hoo!
As mentioned above, I do have a new job lined up, which I am very excited about, but leaving my current role will also allow me to look into new opportunities, to focus on my blog and what I really want to do – to DANCE!
Okay, that was totally a joke, but I have spent a fair chunk of the past few days thinking about the future. Now is the time to work out exactly what I want to do and how to do it… But in typical Tennizzle-style, I have become overwhelmed by the decision.
Ideally I would win lotto and spend the next few years jetting around the world, renovating my house and volunteering my time to the greater good… however accepting that this is not going to happen and that the chances of anyone paying me to hang out with my dogs for a living are just as low, I am going to need a more realistic plan.
I have decided to focus on copywriting, but without it being part of my everyday work.
So far, I have taken the massive steps of purchasing my blog domain (check it out, I’ve dropped the ‘wordpress’ from my site, la di da!) AND getting my own personal domain for the future… I haven’t quite worked out how to set up a website or get it hosted, but I’m on my way! I can feel success in the air!
I’m starting with a bit of blatant self-promotion to people I know professionally and am hoping to start putting a portfolio together in the coming months. As a result, my blog will be growing and although my regular, neurotic posts will continue, I will also be using this page as a means of collating writing until I have a proper website.
In the meantime, if you see someone with a sandwich board reading ‘Will Write for Food’ standing outside Flinders St station next month… please stop by and say hi!
Yams, Turnips and Other Life Challenges
When it comes to vegetables, I am the first to admit that I am absolutely clueless.
I’d like to claim I grew up in a vegetable-free household which would explain this and several other unexplained mysteries, such as why the heck I can’t use cutlery like a normal person, but it would be a lie.
Adding to the confusion, I was a dedicated vegetarian for seven long years and I still have no idea about vegetable-related matters!
I recently found myself making a salad at someone else’s house. I was trying to be all helpful and enthusiastic, but quickly found myself having a small panic attack when faced with something I suspected was a zucchini, green skin and all, and didn’t know what the hell to do with it… peel it? Don’t peel it? Slice it? Bake it? Throw it in a cupboard and pretend it was never there…?
Turns out it was actually a cucumber and yes, you can eat the green bit!
This is just the most recent of many situations I’ve had resulting from my lifelong vegetable confusion. Others include:
The Yam
I’d heard of the elusive yam but was pretty happy living in the knowledge that it had never crossed my path. It just didn’t sound like a friendly vegetable, or a tasty one for that matter, but more like some kind of angry little man in a cape wielding a Bamm-Bamm style club.
That was, of course, until I blogged several months ago about my fear of mashed potato and for some reason, these yams kept coming up in my comments.
Do you like yams?
How do yams make you feel?
Do you eat mashed yams?
Things were getting weird.
I was confused and finally accepted that it was time to consult my friend Google.
So, for anyone who is unfamiliar with the yam equation, here it is:
Yam = Sweet Potato = Awesome!
Kumara
You know those cultural miscommunications you have when you are so clueless as to what is going on you just smile and nod and accept that you will never know the truth? For me, Kumara was one of these.
For quite a few years, when kiwi friends kept saying things like ‘it’s kumara, right?’, ‘does this have kumara in it?’ and ‘I’m going to get kumara on the side’, I was seriously confused. Initially I thought kumara was a bird or maybe a person, but after much smiling and nodding and a whole lot of confusion, I realised they were simply trying to say ‘sweet potato’!
Better than that girl I once heard about who told her boss at a staff event at a chalet that he ‘had such a nice long deck’.
Ah, bless those little kiwis!
However, the real beginning of my vegetable confusion can only be blamed on one vegetable…
The Turnip.
Many years ago, while still reasonably new to the world of vegetarianism and after a chinese doctor told me I was going to die if I didn’t eat meat, I made it my mission to learn to cook vegetables. I bought myself a cookbook, aptly titled ‘Learning to Cook Vegetarian’ and dog-eared the pages of anything that looked even remotely manageable (ie. Had less than ten ingredients) for experimentation.
One of my first attempts was some kind of baked creation, which seemed pretty straightforward. I copied down my little list of ingredients… garlic… onion… potato… turnip… turnip? Turnip! What the heck was a turnip?
Keep in mind here that this was before the days of Google on your phone, or even readily available high-speed internet, so my investigation of what the heck a turnip was consisted of squinting at the photo in the recipe book and by process of elimination and some vague recollection of a turnip character in a childrens book I had read long ago, came to the conclusion that it was a root vegetable with a sprout, which may or may not also have big eyes and wear a pair of runners…
Not one to shy away from a project I have committed to, I decided not to scrap the chosen recipe and chose another, but to take my new found knowledge to the supermarket to source the aforementioned turnip and everything else that the recipe called for and, of course, me being me, I got everything else and left the turnip for last.
With pretty much no idea what I was actually looking for, I had been standing in the root vegetable area for a good twenty minutes, reading all of the price labels when I found it. The excitement was overwhelming:
Turnips – $3.50 per kg | Beetroot $4.00 per kg
I looked up to the corresponding box and to my horror, there was no separation between the two vegetables – just a whole load of round things rolling around in one big box!
Having never seen beetroot except from can, I had reached a whole new level of confusion. Refusing to accept defeat or ask for help, I took a gamble and grabbed what most closely resembled the turnip I had envisaged – I figured if they had been stored in the same box without proper labels, there can’t be much difference anyway… Right?
Wrong.
Needless to say, to this day, I have never cooked or bought a beetroot OR a turnip ever again.
Other awkward vegetables I have encountered include ‘Green Onions’ (which, it turns out was my Fast and Fabulous cookbook seeing how far I would go to find a vegetable that DOES NOT EXIST), ‘Chinese Leaf’ (otherwise referred to as any leafy Chinese vegetable, walking around the markets asking for Chinese Leaf is not recommended!) and ‘Pepper’ or ‘Bell Pepper’ (which, contrary to popular belief is referring to a capsicum, NOT a chilli!) amongst many, many others.
On a side note, a few weeks ago I finally worked out how to install emoji emoticons onto my iPhone. Clearly a fairly simple task once you realise it’s an app.
My newfound love of emoticons was going well, I’ve been throwing them in here and there to create confusion or make a completely unclear point. In the midst of a recent texting conversation, I needed to throw in something completely unexpected. Insert Emoticon:
Think to self: A PURPLE zucchini! Of course! No one will see it coming!
The response: “Eggplant?”
The Seven Signs You’re No Longer in Your Early Twenties…
Last week, I bid a sad farewell to something that has brought me much joy throughout my life… something that has been a comfort, a treat, a staple and a convenience… pasta, my friend, it’s time we went out separate ways.
I had been fighting it for months, refusing to accept that the crippling pain in my stomach was directly related to the wheaty goodness I had just eaten but after dealing the horrific possibility that I may have had to say goodbye to cheese, I (reluctantly) accepted my fate, and with it, I had a shocking realization… I was not just, after twenty-something years, slightly intolerant to something… I was getting old.
So I started Googling the ‘Seven Signs of Ageing’ that the make up commercials warn me of… I don’t wear make up, so the ads were all I had to go on.
But, being in my late twenties, the signs, which include wrinkles, pores, blotches, dullness, unevenness, tone issues (not the vocal kind – there’s no saving them!) and dryness, weren’t very applicable… I mean, don’t we all get wrinkly, dry and a bit blotchy every now and then? Most often following a night passed out on the bathroom floor after too much Chandon Rose?
I had a think about what’s changed over the past few years. Sure, I can’t bounce back from a night out like I used to, I no longer approach things with the blind optimism of a teenager and having a mortgage is a fortnightly reminder of being a full-fledged grown-up, but I realized that I do have seven regular reminders that I have, most definitely, left my youth behind…
Sign 1 – The evil bloat
For me, it was pasta, but the evil bloat can be caused by a range of foods and drinks normally associated with happiness and joy… cheese, wine, pizza, beer and cider to name just a few. At one point I remember being keeled over on the bathroom floor, actually thinking I was either dying, on the brink of an appendix explosion, or pregnant.
The first theory proved incorrect when I was still alive the next day, the second didn’t match the Google explanation of where my appendix were actually located and the third was quickly shut down by my friend who told me Jesus would not consider me a good candidate for an immaculate conception.
Alas, I had experienced the evil bloat and there was no going back.
Sign 2 – Discussion of the evil bloat
I know, I know, I’m kind of throwing myself into this one by even writing this post, but I was out with a group of girls my age a few weeks ago and in the midst of a fun night of wine and celebration, the conversation actually came to a discussion of food intolerances and stomach bloating.
For a good ten minutes, I was totally engrossed in the conversation until I stopped and took a long, hard look at myself… oh, the shame!
Sign 3 – Physio visits more than once a month or two
This time a year ago, I had never even been to a physio, now I find myself there so often that my physio knows more about my life than most of my friends do.
The other day we had an awkward moment when, mid-consultation she questioned why I had a line of black ink down my chest… I refused to tell her, she was persistent, I wasn’t budging and things got awkward. I think she felt betrayed… as a result, my shoulders are just going to have to sort themselves out for a few months!
Sign 4 – Fear of fluorescent lighting
Quite possibly one of the worst inventions ever, in recent years I have had numerous run-ins with fluorescent lighting, many of which led to at least ten minutes of horror, realising that overnight I had become a pasty, wrinkly mess before realising that I do not actually resemble a corpse and the lightling is just messing with my head… I swear to destroy you one day, fluorescent lighting…
Sign 5 – Regretting those personalised number plates I got when I was 21
Not because people might assume that I am a bit of a bogan, but because they’re clearly stating your year of birth… and I know, I have absolutely no excuse for driving like this at my age… but if you just gave way to me whenever I tied to cut in, we wouldn’t have a problem, would we?
Sign 6 – I have no idea how to download music
Being someone who works with social media and manages websites and databases at work, I have absolutely no excuse for this, but I honestly have no idea how to download music… or movies… or tv shows.I STILL buy the box sets when they are released.
I do, however, have fond memories of Napster and Limewire and when you’d be halfway through belting out Whitney Houston’s ‘I wanna dance with somebody’ when full-bore white noise would scare the crap out of you and you’d nearly crash your car… ah, those were the days!
Sign 7 – Finding yourself muttering ‘Ah, the kids these days…’
Yep, I know… What have I BECOME???
Take Your Team Sports Elsewhere
Team sports – I just do not understand them.
I don’t have a particular hatred for them; I just do not have any urge whatsoever to participate in them. Or, if I’m being completely honest, to watch them either.
Being an Aussie, this seems to be a particularly difficult fact for people to deal with.
Early last year, I was on a first date when out of nowhere the guy turned to me with a confused look and asked:
‘So… what sports to do you play?’
I was stumped. Not just by the fact that this was a point of conversation, but that this was even a question for anyone who no longer had compulsory PE classes!
‘Erm… None?
‘What do you mean none? What sports do you like then?’
‘Erm… None.’
‘Well… what do you DO then?!?’
‘Ummm… normal things, what do YOU do?’
Silence… ‘Good point’
I might add that this conversation occurred with someone whose sporting activities consisted of a weekly Frisbee game and riding his bike to dates… who was he to judge?
The incident, however, made me even more anti-sport and got me thinking about the cause of my total disregard for what is an inbuilt passion for most of the population… and when it comes down to it, I can honestly say it can be attributed to one thing…
NETBALL
Otherwise known as the most pointless sport on the face of the planet and one which I was forced (not even exaggerating, FORCED) to play for years!
Let me take you back for a moment to my childhood when I was attending a small Christian-obsessed primary school in Melbourne’s east.
They had fairly creative interpretations on how Jesus wanted us to live and by the time I had left at the end of grade 6, I was fairly certain of the following facts:
- The Wakefield twins from Sweet Valley Twins were actually the devil incarnate
- My new puppy was never going to make it to heaven because God didn’t have enough room
- Slap bands were evil (I’m not quite sure how, they just were!)
- If I didn’t get praying every night, there was a fairly good chance that I, too, would have lost my place in heaven by the time I started high school
Having said that, I did also learn a few invaluable things during my time there, the most useful of which was that if you have something stuck in your eye, blow your nose like crazy and whatever it is will eventually vanish…
And the least useful of which was that sometimes when you need a band aid and your school has forgotten to order more, it’s okay to just wrap your damaged body part in sticky tape and hope the bleeding stops…
But back to the story – team sports!
For the first few years of primary school, we had mixed sports, where we would all line up and walk down to the park to play rounders, or softball or go running. I was okay with this, I loved getting covered in mud and throwing myself in the line of flying objects.
But then came grade five… and new students… and one over-enthusiastic, netball-loving mother… and it was all over.
Every PE class, all the boys would line up and head to the park for ‘boy-sports’, while we were left to play netball in the schoolyard.
For two long years, they played this cruel joke on us, which involved having us ‘select’ our sports at the beginning of each term. Every term I would rate 1-9 every sport BUT netball, which I refused to acknowledge as a sport, yet every term I would end up Wing Attack (otherwise known as the dullest position in all of sporting history) in the midst of ten or so squealing girls who would cry if the ball hit them.
So I decided to take a stand against this absurd excuse for education! I would change the sporting curriculum and fight for the rights for girls to play whatever sports they chose!
Alas… taking a stand in a school of 100 kids doesn’t really go far and instead of leading our year level on an anti-pivot revolution, I found myself sitting alone in the shade on the only grade 6 mixed sport day, after an incident involving a protest against legionnaires hats and some badly planned chants…
But I was not done! This was just the beginning of my lifelong revolt against team sports…
I let things slide for a few years and actually made the odd effort to get involved. In year seven, I attempted that jumping thing over the stick and even swam in a swimming carnival (I’m not entirely sure this was voluntarily, but I’m taking it anyway!)… Then things started to go a bit haywire once again…
First, I got in trouble for pitching overhand in baseball and then got squashed when a large girl with fuzzy hair and a giant scab on her arm fell backward onto me when I wasn’t paying attention during some kind of marching event… Not long after, I got hit in the head with a volleyball and got reprimanded for kicking a squishy ball INSIDE the sports centre…
It was not going well… but I had not given up all hope… And then it got to year nine and they sent me to camp…
But not just camp, this was an eight-week camp I like to refer to as hell.
I got sick from the fresh air, then when I threw up in my bed the nurse found my chocolate stash in my pillow. I got in trouble for holding a chicken ‘offensively’ and was forced to apologise in French – to the French teacher… Porqoui? JE NE SAIS PAS!
I suspect they saw my disdain, my lack of cooperation and my total disregard for their completely ridiculous teachings… Because when it came to elective day, they told me the only option left for me was team sports…
I’m not joking.
So, first thing that morning, I marched myself straight over to the farmer and talked myself into his class on farm skills. Yep, farm skills… And I spent the WHOLE day with my hand up a cows arse!
But, you know what? That was a million times better than spending it running around after a ball, or swinging a bat, or pivoting…
And from then on, I quit team sports. I don’t and won’t play them, and as far as watching them goes… if you promise me LOTS of free beer and cute boys… I’m open to negotiation.
Are You Insane? Let Me Guess How You Found My Blog… And a Little Bit of Blog Love Too!
Okay, so this week I am being totally boring because I’m having bloggers block and my attempts at writing my next post are not getting me anywhere! So I have decided to take the opportunity to respond to a blogging award nomination and also share some random nonsense, to justify this as a REAL post for the week!
So, when I can’t finish any of the gazillion drafts sitting in my blog, there is only one way out – to write a list! This week I have mainly been inspired by the weird and slightly disturbing search terms that have been coming up on my blog, but also by the many other blogs I have been reading and what I have learnt since I started blogging just over two months ago. The following are the top ten of these:
1. People, or more specifically, people who write and read blogs, are awesome and they brighten my life!
2. They are also sometimes insane… as is evident in the following search terms which have led people to my blog.
- Tenis player not wear pant – okay, I guess I was asking for this one with all that talk of Marat Safin and his flood pants, but seriously, who were you hoping to find?
- What is hi fives porn – If this is something that exists (and by the number of referrals, I’m guessing it does), I can guarantee this is NOT something you will be finding here. Move along!
- Eating my ex on the couch – I’m fairly certain I do not ever want to meet you…
- High five? Potato – If this was ‘high five? Mashed potato’ I would assume you were my arch nemesis. Alas, I have no idea what you were hoping to achieve. High five? Potato!
- Ecards about stupid people – I think I have Googled this exact search term, let’s be friends!
- What is the fear of high fives called – Oh. My. God! I am not alone!
- Potatoes with cotton buds – I’m confused. Why does the potato have cotton buds?
- I can count to potato – Good for you!
- Women crapping – I am not even joking!
- Some people just need a high-five. In the face. With a chair – Wow, you have a way with words. I suspect you may be the reason for my fear of high fives…
- You call it madness but I call it love – Yes, and I call you insane. Have we dated?
- Green balls – I think you should get off Google and get to the doctor… Now!
- What is this shitload of mashed potatoes day – I think I had a nightmare along those lines just last week… a whole day of being chased around by a giant plate of mashed potato with legs… it’s all coming back to me…
3. I am not alone in my pug love – Yep, my blog has received visits from people using 31 different Pug search terms so far! Some of my favourites are ‘pug with backpack’ ‘thank god it’s Friday pug’ and ‘pug true love’. I feel my heart warming just reading them! This is from one particular morning several weeks ago:
4. WordPress is my friend – It’s true. I’ve actually found I spend more time with WordPress these days than with most of the people in my life. It makes me happy!
5. Twitter is not my friend – Also true. I Tweet… I get sweet nothing back… but I shall persist….
6. I wish I was cool enough to have a Facebook page for my blog – Alas, I am not, but I shall continue to sit back and silently envy those of you who do… Sitting there all smug in your popularity…
7. I want to start taking photos for my blog – I’m making this one of my missions in life. Having broken my iPhone camera and with minimal chance of lugging my SLR around with me each day, the likelihood of this happening is slim to none – so I’m aiming to post one photo I have taken by the end of 2012. Achievable? Achievable!
8. www.someecards.com is a sarcastic bloggers best friend – Seriously, the best resource ever! And they’re FREE!
9. There’s a fairly good chance I will fail in my attempt to blog every week of 2012… although I remain 100% committed to trying my hardest!
10. Blog awards are great for the ego – and a great excuse for spending an entire day reading other blogs… And on that note:
The rest of my entry today is to accept and pass on a little blog love with four (yep, FOUR) awards rolled into one… I don’t even know how this happens and am slightly overwhelmed, but I’m going to go with it and see what happens!
So, first and foremost, many many thanks to No Sugar, Just Spice for nominating me… in perusing your blog I see we share some embarrassing old music tastes… well, taste, I should say… I’m not at the point of publicly admitting to such a thing, but just for you *ahem*:
“Have you ever stood outside a picket fence… you’ll see through… but you can’t get to the inside… oohhhhhhh!”
I still remember all the words… how embarrassing… let’s never mention this again!
So, the awards are:
- Mrs. Sparkly’s Ten Commandments Award
- The Sunshine Award
- The Candle Lighter Award
- The Liebster Award
To roll all the questions into one, I’m just going to answer EVERYTHING in one go and then nominate those blogs I would like to pass the love onto.
So, here goes:
1. Describe yourself in seven words.
Small, Energetic, Loyal, Passionate, Impatient, Blunt and High-Pitched (although that’s kind of eight!)
2. What keeps you up at night?
Blog writing!
3. Whom would you like to be?
Noone, really. I’m pretty happy just being me.
4. What are you wearing now?
Tracksuit pants, a hoodie and my ugg boots… exciting, I know!
5. What scares you?
Mice and Horses.
6. What are the best and worst things about blogging?
Best: Interacting with other bloggers and getting feedback on my posts.
Worst: Writing a post when I’ve given myself a deadline. I always leave it until the last minute!
7. What was the last website you looked at?
I was Googling the lyrics to the song quoted above… I can’t believe I actually second-guessed myself!
8. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?
I guess being a bit more tolerant to stupid people…?
9. Slankets, yes or no?
I think you mean Snuggie… and I would go with a no.. except on little kids and dogs, have you seen the dog snuggie? So cute! I wonder if there is a photo of a pug in a snuggie somewhere out there…
Oh. My. God…
10. Tell us something about the person who nominated you.
She sorts her fries by size. True story.
11. Favorite Color:
Blue.
12. Favorite Animal:
Dogs, Elephants and Seals.
13. Favorite Number:
4
14. Favorite Non-Alcoholic Drink:
Sparkling water.
15. Facebook or Twitter:
16. My Passion:
Travel
17. Getting or Giving Presents:
Giving
18. Favorite Pattern:
Pattern?? Weird question… any of Cath Kidston’s floral prints?
19. Favorite Day of the Week:
Sunday
20. Favorite Flower:
Lillies
And ten blogs to nominate:
http://theghostlife.wordpress.com/
http://undomesticatedhousewife.com/
http://beetleandswan.wordpress.com/
http://brookeandmckenzie.wordpress.com/
http://imnotfamousandneitherareyou.com/
http://livenerddierepeat.wordpress.com/
http://disseminatedthought.wordpress.com/
http://learnmesomething.wordpress.com/
I love Pugs… But I Hate Full Stops on Bullet Points
Do you ever have those dilemmas in life when you have to go against something you really believe in, just to keep the universe balanced? I have this problem with full stops on bullet points.
I accept that grammatically, either way is acceptable, but I just don’t think it’s right.
Having said that, I was recently re-reading one of my blog posts which I had published in a hurry and I realised that I had unknowingly finished two bullet points with full stops and one with an exclamation mark. After hyperventilating for a short moment, I pulled myself together long enough to deal with it.
In fairness to myself, I had used the full stop when adding a final word or two to the point. For example:
- Pugs are awesome. Fact.
Totally necessary. But by using two full stops and one exclamation point, I had unintentionally thrown my entire post off balance.
There was only one solution – go back through and add a full stop to every bullet point… all the while accepting that this would result in me not sleeping that night.
I started thinking about what other totally minor things have threatened to tip me over the edge in recent months and fairly quickly realised that I might actually be insane. But hey, who is judging? These are just a few:
USING CAPITALS FOR A HEADING OR IN AN EMAIL
I’m not even joking, people actually do this. In reports, people like to use capitals all over the shop and it has, on occasion, very nearly killed me. If you need a heading, there’s this wonderful thing called bold which is designed for adding emphasis without screaming.
Excessive capitalising in email is particularly unpleasant at work when customers, or people associated with customers think they’ll get a better response from me by CAPITALISING all the AGRESSIVE words in their EMAIL… well, guess what? When I read the third misspelt and capitalised word you included, I lost all interest in helping you in any way. Instead, I have made it my mission to ruin your life!
If you’re reading this and you have a tendency to capitalise unnecessarily, please do not ever make me aware of this. It won’t go well. Capital letters should be reserved for the occasional emphasis of a single word and nothing else. For example -Pugs are AWESOME.
txt spk n emails (Text speak in emails)
Last year, I received the following one-line email from our IT guy at work:
“ok np.. ‘only’ looks a bit stupid in the comparison popup though imo”
After staring blankly at my screen for a good twenty seconds, I called a colleague into my office and said ‘I think IT Guy might be having a seizure!’
Apparently I’m just not down with the lingo. Mucho awkwardo.
I am the first to accept that I overuse the acronyms OMG and WTF and maybe it’s a double standard, but under no circumstances should lol, lmfao, np, imo, fml, ffs, ftw or ttfn be used in an email. It takes me more time to Google what it means that it would take you to just write in English!
And don’t even get me started on ‘totes’!
Using the space bar instead of tab
If you reeeeaaallly want to piss me off, put together a nicely aligned and spaced document which has been formatted without using the tab button. Go on, do it. I dare you…
I guarantee I will squeal, hyperventilate and not speak to you for at least two hours.
Even better, put the header content on the main page, the page number at the top centre and don’t bother with columns, just split all the text into two and put spaces between everything…. EVERYWHERE*!
Times New Roman
Do I need to elaborate? Why does this font still exist?!?
So now you’re starting to grasp how challenging my life is and you’re no doubt wondering how I cope…
I take a deep breath, open a new window in Google Chrome and search Google Images using two magical words ‘Awesome Pug’…
And just for you, my lovely blog readers, I am letting you into my world for a moment. This is the wall above my work desk, I call it The Wall of Pug Inspiration**!
*Please note totally appropriate use of capital letters
** Yes, that is Jacob on the top left. Yes, he has a speech bubble saying ‘I love you… see you tonight!’ but just hold your judgement, I am 100% Team Edward!
