Wednesday, May 31, 2006

The Defector

In my little town, there are two main gyms. There's one which is shiny and new, huge, with modern equipment, chicks who dress in lycra, lots of classes and a 'can-do' vibe about it. Can-do vibes shit me.

The second is a bit out of the way, cheaper fees, older equipment and a keen but unwritten tracksuit and baggy t-shirt policy - no lycra allowed. That's the one I've been a member of for the past 3½ years.

There are a couple of 'other' gyms - one is a blokes only, weights-and-mirrors only one where the patrons are apparently known to indulge in such substances that make their muscles bigger and their doodles smaller. The other is new and a bit out of town and I don't know anyone who goes there. Oh, and there's the one that is women only, and it's part of an international chain of gyms. I don't know anyone who goes there either.

The second gym is great, not many people who go there take themselves seriously, there's people of all ages and sizes and fitness levels etc. When I was going through my gym phase, I would be there 7 days a week and the regular patrons aren't afraid of coming up and saying hello and having a chat while you're doing your darndest not to fall off the treadmill through distraction. It's a bit like family there. And my favourite instructor sounds like the turtle from 'Finding Nemo'…."Woah…dude….you can like, totally push yourself harder….totally…." which is annoying yes, but endlessly amusing.

Except I haven't been for at least 5 months. It started when Pom and I met, you know, you're too busy going out on lovely dates and shagging madly and daydreaming to have the time or energy to go and do a Bodypump class or what have you. So my visits dwindled down over the course of a few months from 5 times a week to weekly, to once every so often, to nothing. Meanwhile, the $50 is still being direct-debited out of my account every month and I'm not doing anything about it.

So when a colleague showed me a special limited offer for the first, snobby gym, I actually looked at it rather than screwing it up and filing it in the circular filing cabinet (Oh, how Brent-esque - the laffs!). It provides for a full membership (at the second gym I didn't have a membership that included the pool, on account of the fact that I'm scared of cossies), at about $15 a month cheaper than what I'm paying now.

So I've done it.

I've defected.

To the 'can-do' gym, where the staff are super fucking friendly and look like they eat steak three times a day and drink protein shakes. Where fitness for them is an all-consuming lifestyle, and not just a part-time necessity so they can drink lots of beer and eat brie and still fit into their jeans. Where when they smile, the contrast between their solariumed faces and their laser-whitened, non-nicotine stained teeth cause a contrast so great it's unnerving.

Where the beautiful people go.


WHY OH WHY DID I DO IT?

Anyway, I've arranged to go and do a Bodybalance class tonight with a workmate, which will be my introduction to the new gym. I figure that some swishy, stretchy pilates type guff will be a nice, gentle start. However, seeing as though I've not done ANY gym work for so long, it'll probably render me unable to walk/laugh/cough tomorrow without spasming in pain. And there's a nice meditation bit at the end where you lie down and they light candles and play whale noises or some shit and you almost fall asleep. Sweet.

Wish me luck.

# posted by Kymmy : 4:47 pm  5 Comments

Friday, May 26, 2006

I'm back!

Yes, so there's been a slight hiatus in my blogging - not for any particular reason other than it's been hellishly busy of late and I have also felt a tad lazy and uninspired when I have had the time to post….

Enough with the excuses and on with the inane dribble! Tallyho!

In the past week I have;

Watched a friend play proper (club) netball while eating a chicken steak sandwich and sipping a cup of bad coffee, being buffeted by an icy cold gale. I chose to wear thongs and my toes went a weird purple colour. But I still felt sorry for the players who are required to wear terribly skimpy lycra dresses with built-in jocks. Oh the humanity.

Purchased the following; pretty, new, pathetically girly bra & knickers set which are sky-blue and have flowers on them and which make me very happy; a new pair of black pants for work which don't quite fit just yet (BUT THEY WILL); a pair of black (now bear with me here, it's a bit difficult to describe) pants which are sort of ¾ and sort of a bit shorter than that. All I know is when I wore them with knee high boots yesterday I felt slightly old-skool Black Eyed Peas; A new harness for Lucy which she is still getting used to because it actually fits around her head and works on the concept that if she pulls too hard, it will put pressure across the bridge of her nose, which apparently dogs don't like. Mostly it's working a treat and she has suddenly transformed into a manageable pooch to walk, instead of being dragged by a steam train around the streets of Shepparton. It's like doggy power-steering; A new set of scales which aside from telling you your weight, also calculate your body-fat percentage and your hydration levels. Beauty, I think, something else to get obsessive about. Except, for me, for some stupid fucked-up reason, they won't tell me anything aside from how much I weigh. When it goes to calculate anything else, it just comes up with an error message that does not appear in the instruction manual. Maybe I'm 95% fat and it's blowing the machine's mind.

Starting jogging. Well, interval jogging (walking then jogging then walking then jogging etc). My aim is to be able to run around the lake (3kms) without stopping. This is pretty unthinkable for a relatively lazy, heavily smoking lass such as myself, but I can dream. At the moment the most I'm able to do in one stretch is about 300m, then my chest starts to burn and my shins start to shoot from the ankle to the knee with pain. Then I stop.

Turned 25. I used to announce to everyone within earshot that my birthday was coming up for months prior to the actual day. This year, I didn't really tell anyone. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that people still remembered and that was lovely. Stevo called, I got some gorgeous gifts and a beautiful carrot cake baked by my colleagues and Pom spoiled me with an MP3 player and a special delivery at work of an arrangement of 12 red roses which I could barely carry. DO YOU NOT LOVE IT? The night of my birthday I played netball and then had stodgy pasta with the team afterwards. It was pleasant, low-key and I liked it that way. I'm learning more and more about myself all the time.

Celebrated Eurovision in the most wonderful way - at a party which had the theme 'Sausages of Eurovision'. There was drinking, laughter, horror, innumerable types of animal product, great people and an erroneous sweepstakes (less countries in the hat than were actually in the competition, and some of the countries that were in the hat weren't actually part of Eurovision. Or Europe. It happens every year). Next year I have suggested there be a Eurovision drinking game which may include sculling for every act who's costumes are predominantly white, a shot of Ouzo for every time a botoxed songstress rips of her skirt to reveal a shorter skirt/hot pants/knickers and a double shot if this on-stage costume alteration coincides with a heart-wrenching key change. Also shots for when Terry Wogan takes the piss out of an act before it comes on and/or presenters of other countries during the vote tally.
We'll be maggoted within the first 15 minutes in I reckon.

# posted by Kymmy : 9:37 am  0 Comments

Friday, May 19, 2006

Lior - a blurry visual recount

I wish I wasn't such a shit photographer, but these are a couple of the photo's from the Lior gig Pom and I went to on Wednesday night. It was sensational, we were both so so impressed. It's lovely to see a bloke with such amazing talent but who lacks any visible pretentiousness or attitude. And we had kick-arse seats (four rows from the front, at about a 45 degree angle to the centre of the stage):






















# posted by Kymmy : 10:12 pm  1 Comments

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

I'm thinking D.F.O.......

My world as I know it seems to be spiralling out of control at the moment. I was thinking about it this morning on my walk (or my drag, depending how energetic Lucy is feeling at any particular time), and have concluded that in the course of a normal week, I am supposed to;

So lets break this down on a daily basis;


Work - 9.5 hours;


Study - 4 hours;


Lucy-time - 1 hour walking. Half an hour cuddles and pats and one-sided conversations in baby tones.


Pom-time - ideally 3 hours to talk about our days, maybe do something social outside of the house and have our sooky time.


Cooking & Housework - 2 hours;


Maintaining Family relationships - Half an hour each day to catch up on the phone, write my Gran the letters she dearly loves and play the Big Sister to my younger sisters.


Maintain my friendships - I suppose if you average a night out over a week then we could safely say this was an hour a day.


So lets add this up;


9.5 + 4 + 1.5 + 3 + 2 + .5 + 1 = 21.5


So, if I'm to do all the things I need to do, not including allowing time for showering, getting dressed, brushing teeth, smoking, drinking coffee, driving to work, eating, looking for matching socks, tearing the knots out of my hair, doing wees, watching television or staring vacantly into space I have approximately 2.5 hours in which to sleep and recharge before starting all over again.


Something's gotta give.

At the moment it's my friends, study and housework which are losing out, all of which I'm sad about (maybe not so sad about the housework, but I can't remember the last time I saw the bottom of my ironing basket).


I thought to myself - maybe I need an outlet?


An outlet, yes.

Now let me see what I could do to vent my stress at the end of a long day;


Drinking? No, I hate hangovers too much and I lose my tact as soon as a glass of champagne has passed my lips. I used to live for weekends of partying, and now I can't bear the thought of wasting entire days feeling crap.


Drugs? Well, not anymore. It's too hard to find a dealer around here. Plus, it's illegal and stuff.

Illegal = bad, kids.


Life of Crime? It's on the 'maybe' list.


Salsa Dancing? Now, I've always wanted to learn some sort of dancing as the best I can do is a shameless bump & grind when I've had a skinful. (Just add shame in the morning when recalling). The thing that's stopped me from ever dabbling in anything resembling a dance class is the fact that no matter how many episodes of Dancing with the Stars I watch, I never see the girls wearing flat dancing shoes. So put a decent pair of heels on Kymmy and I'd be taller than the bloke I was dancing with. Cringe.


Some form of team sport? Well yes, I already play social netball, and this allows me to vent aggression in the most primal of manners. An elbow here, an elbow there, it's all good. It's only 40 minutes a week though and I've got much more crankypants goodness to dispense of.


And that's where I run out of ideas. Audience participation below, if you choose.


# posted by Kymmy : 2:30 pm  4 Comments

Monday, May 15, 2006

Progressive Dinner

Friday night went off pretty well. I served these


and these







and also some fruit salad and fresh coffee for the soberites amongst the group. Someone else generously constructed a cheese platter which was also well received, but to be honest by the time the group arrived at our house they were either too full or too pissed to worry about dessert and as such we have substantial leftovers which Pom is diligently attending to.

Highlight of the evening:

One of the Partners (bosses of the firm, not someone's other half) came out into the backyard and Lucy launched into an uncharacteristic tirade of very tough barking and growling at him, to which by way of explanation I offered "Yes, she senses evil".

No pay-rise for Kymmy this year. But it was worth it.

# posted by Kymmy : 12:47 pm  2 Comments

Thursday, May 11, 2006

I'm thinking of changing her name to John Howard


So Lucy ran away again. AGAIN. This time she broke our specially modified fence to do so, yesterday morning. Pom went home for lunch and she had gone, so I went home for lunch too, and spent half an hour driving around the neighbouring streets, hoping she recognised the sound of my car (I know she does) and would come home, which she didn't. Pom went for a run around the lake to see if she'd gone there, but with no luck. I was actually relieved at that, because she would have had to cross two major roads.

Lucy has run away so many times now that I don't have a breakdown about it anymore, I just pray that she doesn't get skittled by a car and wait for her to come home. She's too timid to go and find a new home, be picked up by a passing stranger or be caught by the ranger, so getting hit by a car is pretty much her only hazard. The first few times she fled I cried continuously, rang my mum, rang the pound, rang every vet in town, but just stopped short at putting an announcement on the community radio. And she would always come home, maybe after a few hours, maybe after a few days, smelling funky (and I mean FUNKY) thirsty, sooky and hungry too. She would stand outside my bedroom window and whine to be let in, then spend hours wanting to be patted and cuddled and giving me apologetic licks on the hand.

This morning just after we awoke and realised that we hadn't been woken at an ungodly hour by Lucy heralding her return, Pom opened the front door and did a cursory whistle. And she was there. She trotted inside, came into the bedroom and gave me a sniff, ignored my "Oh Bella, you're home! Come here and have a cuddle", waited to be let outside the back door, had a bit of a drink, sniffed her food, and then sat down on the lawn and yawned.

I was gutted.

She wasn't excited to be home. She wasn't trying to climb on my lap as though she were a puppy again. She didn't want cuddles, or affection, or anything.

She wasn't sorry.

She was all "Yeah, I've been out. Don't ask me where I've been, I'm not telling. Just had a run around the streets of Shepparton, sniffed some stuff, did wees EVERYWHERE, made friends with a couple of strays and now I'm back. Anything to eat?"

I feel like I'm the mother of a wayward teenager right now.

But I'm glad she's home and she's safe.



"I'm not sorry"


# posted by Kymmy : 1:04 pm  3 Comments

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Thank you Baby Cheeses

'The Boys' are out. I had a little cry whilst watching the footage this morning, it was a collective exhale from the nation I think. We were all too scared to say 'when they're out' just in case it didn't happen. But it did. And they're physically healthy, walking out of the mine after 14 nights trapped in an inconceivably small space.

And the cheeky buggers collected their time keys on the way out! Precious.

There was footage also of the locals drinking cans, at 7.30am - and I almost felt like cracking one myself.

# posted by Kymmy : 8:46 am  2 Comments

Monday, May 08, 2006

And Four Brothers was alright (I think)

Weekend objectives realised;

Reading The Age (not just the Good Weekend)

Sleeping in 'til 8

Watching Rage whilst eating muesli

Weekend objectives unrealised;

Going to gym

Being bought coffee in bed.

MUST TRY HARDER. D-.

Did, however;

Clean house from top to bottom in preparation of being the 'dessert leg' of Friday's upcoming progressive dinner. (If anyone has any ideas on how I'm going to feed 14 people dessert I'd be most appreciative).

Take poochie for long, long walk on Saturday morning (so sort of like going to the gym, only better scenery).

Go to SPC/Ardmona Factory Sales and buy baked beans (for Pom) and crushed tomatoes (I put them in almost everything I cook) by the carton very cheaply. Along with some imported gnocchi, various sauces and cooking type things that will no doubt sit in the pantry until their use-by date has passed.

Cook a bee-uuuu-tiful dinner last night. Think smoked salmon, think creamy, think capers, think gnocchi, think YUM.

All in all, it was a good 'un. Apart from the not being bought coffee in bed thing, which was the fault of someone who shall remain nameless (HE KNOWS WHO HE IS).

Cheerio.

# posted by Kymmy : 12:28 pm  0 Comments

Friday, May 05, 2006

EVERY day I've got Friday on my mind

It's almost 9pm on a Friday night. Being the Funksters (TM) that we are, we're about to sit down and watch a DVD (Four Brothers - anyone seen it? We can compare notes tomorrow) with a cup of coffee. We're also about to get deliciously bent, and what more could we ask of a Friday evening?

Today;


I got my first feedback from Uni - I received my literature essay back and was pleased to discover I'd been given a B+. Especially pleased because I only actually read the text 2 days before the assignment was due, and I wrote the conclusion approximately 15 minutes before I submitted it.

Took the poochie for a walk around the lake after work. Pom lapped me around the lake twice because he's a boy and boys like to do crazy shit like running when you can walk (weirdo....). Lucy was more neurotic than normal which wasn't so fun but she loves her walks/runs so we will persist.

Tomorrow......well Saturdays are especially precious to me. Saturday mornings are my favourite time of the week, if I'm not hungover. Tomorrow morning, I aim to;

Sleep in until at least 8 (we usually get up at 5 so 8 is really a sleep-in time)

Be bought coffee in bed

Watch a little Rage while drinking more coffee and enjoying my museli

Go to the gym, since I haven't been in 4 months (might be slightly more....)

Buy and actually read The Age, rather than skimming over the headlines and then foraging for the Good Weekend because I don't have time for the rest.

Hope everyone has a great weekend, I've got to go start mine :)

x

# posted by Kymmy : 8:52 pm  0 Comments

Thursday, May 04, 2006

It was fleeting, but sweet

Yesterday whenever I went out the back of the office to have a cigarette, there was this little cat hanging around. She was sort of winding her way around cars and garbage bins, as if they would reach down and pat her if she tried hard enough. She was close enough to know that I was there, and she knew I was watching her. When she wound her way around the front tyre of the car closest to me she looked up as if to say "Just give me the encouragement, and I'll be your friend" (Okay, maybe cats don't necessarily think that way, but I like to think they do).

The next time I came out, she was still there. I whispered a tiny "Here puss puss" and she was immediately doing figure eights of my ankles. I had to restrain myself from actually bending down and patting her though, because if I did that then I knew I'd be a goner. I went inside and told a colleague who is a big softy like me, and she asked whether we should take out a little bowl of milk for her? I thought about it and then said no, because if we did that she might stay and then I would just have to take her home, not being able to resist the lure of a stray.

She was a small kitty, not fully grown just yet but then even when she was I think she'd still be fairly runty. She had such a pretty face too. I would call her Agnes. I've always wanted to call a cat Agnes.

At the end of the day I went home and casually mentioned the cat story to Pom. "She was sooooo pretty" I said. "I'm highly allergic, you know that", says he. "I didn't say I wanted to bring her home" I answered, somewhat defensively "But she was really friendly too".

"I'm allergic. No way"

"But she looked so lost, like she's never had a home in the first place. She just desperately wanted some affection, it was so cute"

"Kymmy, I said no. I'm allergic to cats. You've got a dog, if you want another pet, get another dog"

"But Lucy and Agnes could be frieeeeennnnnnddddsss and they could snuggle up in the same bed together. It'd be reeeaaaallllyyy cuuuuuuute"

"Agnes?"

"That's what I would call her. I've always said I would call my cat Agnes. Honey, you know, you could always take anti-histamines?"

It was at that point that I realised how ridiculous I was being, suggesting Pom commit himself to a constant anti-histamine intake in order to accommodate my whimsical rescue operation of Agn….ermmm the cat.

I resolved that if she was still there in the morning that I would find her a home, probably with one of my colleagues. Then I could visit her and make sure she was looked after and happy.

When I pulled up at work this morning, she was nowhere to be seen.

Bye Agnes, I hope you have a happy life. You were so lovely.

# posted by Kymmy : 8:48 am  0 Comments

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

There's such a thing as too keen

So this morning the alarm goes off at 5am, as per usual. Only this time, the radio actually woke me up instead of infiltrating my early-morning sleep, leading me to dream in the format of music video-clips.

"Get up! Get up! We're going for a walk"

Pom forces his eyes open "Really?"

"Yes! Come on, let's go!"

"Are you making coffee?"

"Okay. But you have to get up"

"Mmmhmmhmmm okay, in a sec". He closes his eyes again.

"No, NOW! We're going for a walk!"

5.25am, Lucy is harnessed up, we're wrapped in fleecy jumpers and wiping sleep from our eyes (Or 'ducks', as my nanna used to call it. Still not sure why).

We start to walk.

It starts to rain.

It wasn't even good rain, the kind of rain which would give me an excuse to turn around and go back home. It was a weak drizzle which drove down at an angle, resulting in only one side of my head getting wet.

I was stiff from just getting out of an electric-blanket heated bed. Pom was amazed that I was actually up and active at that hour. Lucy was simply excited that she was being taken for 2 walks in less than 12 hours, and nearly dragged me off my feet a couple of times.

We walked for an hour, around the lake and home again. When we got in the door, I was knackered.

I still am knackered. It's past 3pm now.

Lesson learned.

# posted by Kymmy : 3:14 pm  0 Comments

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Group Hug

Whenever I'm feeling a little bit sad and at a loss, I sometimes like to go to this site. It's filled with people expunging their darkest, dirtiest secrets in complete anonymity. Then I think to myself "At least I don't shag my best mates' boyfriend on the sly/fantasise about my uncle's neighbour/steal from my grandmother/hate French people for no good reason".

However I've just had the thought that maybe me feeling better about myself by reading other people's depraved secrets actually just makes me the same as them. Perhaps being judgemental towards them brings me down to their level, like I'm one step removed from actually posting on the site and saying "Knowing that there are people out there who shag their best mates' boyfriend on the sly/fantasise about their uncle's neighbour/steal from their grandmother/hate French people for no good reason makes me feel better about myself". Is that my deep, dark secret?

It still makes me feel good to read it though. It puts my tiny little problems into perspective. And I don't think I'm going to stop.

(Cue evil laugh)

# posted by Kymmy : 12:58 pm  2 Comments

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