Tuesday, October 31, 2006

The dreaming

I often have dreams where the recurring theme is that I am trying to dial a telephone, usually in a fairly urgent situation, and I can't get the number right. Either my fingers seem to have turned as fat as sausages and I press three buttons at once, or I almost get to the end of the number and then simply press the wrong digit and bugger the whole thing up. Or, as was the case in last night's dream, the person I was calling didn't want to speak to me and had changed the numbers on the keypad of my phone so I could never get it right. I was dialling, realising I'd pressed the wrong buttons and having to disconnect the call repeatedly.



When I woke up I was angry, frustrated and hugely anxious. I can't work out what this means. Any clues?

# posted by Kymmy : 11:29 am  0 Comments




This photo is set as my background on my work PC.

When I am cross about the many scratches on my arms, why I am late for work due to the time it took to get the little bugger down from a tree, or my head being pounced on in the middle of a blissful REM cycle at 3.14am, I look at this picture and remember that sometimes, rarely but sometimes, Agnes can actually be quite lovely.

# posted by Kymmy : 8:57 am  0 Comments

Monday, October 16, 2006

Could be described as the 'Surprised Italian look'

I am getting used to my eyebrows, they may not be as bad as I originally thought. I always tend to overreact to these things in any event. Once when I was 15, I had very long, very plain hair and desperately coveted the 'Rachel from Friends' cut. My mum duly took me to a hairdresser who HACKED THE BEJESUS OUT OF MY HAIR before realising that the only reason it was reasonably straight before she started was because it was long and the weight was keeping it in check. Moral of the story no. 1 - if you have a white girl's afro you cannot also have a fringe. The two are absolutely mutually exclusive. And this was in the day before the Muster became my best friend, mind. So I ended up looking like a complete retard and cried when I got out of the salon. Not when I got back home but before I even stepped out of there I had tears in my eyes and sobbed when we got to the car and screeched "She's ruuuuiiiinnned my haaaaaiiiirr". Delightful teenager I was. No amount of semi-sincere cajoling from my mum could make up for the poodle perched atop my noggin and I don't know which fucked up version of 'Friends' the hairdresser was watching in scissor-happy land but it wasn't remotely similar to the one I knew of. Moral of the story no. 2 - know the limits of your hair. Ooh, and 3. Find a hairdresser you can trust. This story is well off the track now as I can't find any way to link it back to my shit eyebrows but I've started and now we must press on. Don't be looking for any sort of link back later on, ok? Great.

My current hairdresser is great, I've been going to him for 4 years now and I've never come out of his shop unhappy, apart from that one time when the apprentice tried to straighten my hair and she cocked it up a bit and I had to go home and re-straighten it myself. Now I have learned never to say that I don't have anything to do that night and pretend it's all for a function and my actual hairdresser will straighten my hair which is great because he starts off by using 2 hairdryers at once, in one hand whilst simultaneously dislocating my neck by pulling on my hair with those massive big rolly brushes because he is clearly a Superhero in hairdresser world. Typing that sentence just left me out of breath. Anyway, I went to see him on Thursday and we started off with him saying "What are we doing today?" and I say "Just a number two thanks" as I do every time and we both do a fake-laugh because he knows that I am precious about keeping my hair long at the same time as a number of other requirements that are not always conducive to having said long hair (such as "Can you make it so it doesn’t take me ages to do in the morning?" and he says "Kymmy, your hair is very, very thick and very, very long and it's curly whereas you like to wear it straight") and thus he pretty much ignored me (as always) and did what he liked (as always) and I love it. I can't stop swishing it about in the mirror and checking which way looks the sexiest. The other things I like about my hairdresser;
  1. When I'm waiting for the colour to do it's thing and I have the cape on and the gladwrap action on my head I can go out of the back of his shop to smoke.
  2. On my Saturday morning appointments he gets his apprentices to make me coffee in the biggest cup they have. Bless.
  3. He doesn't try to make that irritating smalltalk if I have my head stuck in a book. I am extremely appreciative of this as there is nothing worse than talking to someone about how work is really busy or about the weather when you really don't give a flying fig and you are really wishing they would concentrate and not let water get in your ear.


So, in summary, I still have weird-looking eyebrows but they are possibly offset by the wondrousness of my new rock-chick hair.

The end.


# posted by Kymmy : 2:38 pm  1 Comments

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Free Saturday Update No. 1

Went for brow wax. Decided to be a tiny bit adventurous and asked beautician if she could tint my eyebrows as well, as I colour my hair and my natural eyebrow colour is quite a bit lighter than the hair on my head. You know, just to 'frame my eyes' a little, like Cleo tells you it does.


BAD IDEA.

I think, if anyone was to see me right now, they would wonder why I have two (perfectly shaped) caterpillars marching towards eachother over my eyes. I think it looks hideous and my eyes look like piss-holes in the sand. Even more than usual. I'm about to go and buy some anti-dandruff shampoo because it apparently ruins the colour job on your head and I am praying like fuck it will do the same to my eyebrows. Moral of the story: don't trust Cleo/hungover beautician.

Also, No.1 on list o'things to do is completed. Sort of blurred into No. 2, but the hour was not up before I was rudely awoken by a man from the Bureau of Statistics knocking on the door with his chubby hands and thrusting his ID card in my sleepy face then asking me questions for some sort of literacy survey before telling me the computer had chosen Pom for the survey anyway. Almost as annoying as the time Senator Steven Fielding came a callin' and I'd just gotten out of the shower and answered the door in possibly the dodgiest robe in the world and then he didn't want to listen to why I thought Tony Abbott is a complete cocksmoker even though he'd asked me if I had any issues with the Federal Government I'd like to chat to him about. Pah.


# posted by Kymmy : 1:08 pm  0 Comments

What to do?

Pom has gone off this morning to paint a house or something, and I am left in our home by myself. I have an entire Saturday stretched out before me and aside from a brow wax in an hour, I have no plans. This is great. Usually on a Saturday morning I might take the pooch for a stroll, cook up a breakfast for Pom and I, then try and go back to bed for a nanna-nap. Pom's not a fan of 'wasting the day sleeping' and so we usually have a light argument about how I should be able to do whatever I want with my Saturday and he says if he's doing stuff around the house then I should help too. I don't try and see his point of view in this regard.

It's raining today, albeit quite lightly, so sitting out on the lawn chain-smoking is not really an option for me unfortunately. Today I plan to;

  1. Buy the Age and read it in bed;
  2. Have two nanna-naps of at least one hour duration each;
  3. Frequently stand in front of the mirror and flip my new hairstyle about in a completely retarded manner to admire my wonderful hairdresser's work;
  4. Paint my toenails. Fire Engine red or Barbie pink? These are my only two options;
  5. Remind myself to do my tax (check);
  6. Cook a chocolate cake;
  7. Then cook something that doesn't come from a packet. Haven't really thought that one through yet.
In reality I will probably while away my day looking for things I don't need on Ebay and drinking more coffee, but I will aim to be partly productive if only to prove to myself that I'm not entirely lazy. Bahahahahahahahahahaha.



# posted by Kymmy : 8:42 am  1 Comments

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

After that little rant…

I feel like quite the tetchy cow, always complaining about something. I also just came across this blog, which has prompted me to write about something nice. Quickly, mind. I have work to do.
Three beautiful things which have enriched my life today (to varying degrees).
  1. The cigarette and coffee combination that started my day (and every day for a lot of days before now);
  2. Watching Agnes pull the surprise ninja moves on Lucy when she rounded a corner this morning;
  3. Coming back from my lunch break to find a Milky Way on my desk courtesy of a lovely colleague.


Okay, that wasn't so hard.

:)


# posted by Kymmy : 2:38 pm  0 Comments

Summer's almost here!

Swims! Hurrah! BBQ's! Hurrah! Daylight Savings! Hurrah! Living in a big old red-brick house which absorbs every little skerrick of heat and turns into a kiln! Boo! No air-conditioning! Boo! Sleepless nights! Boo! Sweating from areas I wasn't even aware had sweat glands! Whoa, too much information Boo!

Not. Looking. Forward. To. Summer.

When Pom and I first moved into our house, it was lovely. Big, airy, completely retro original, ours (at a weekly price). Ten days later, a freak heatwave kicked in and we spent a week enduring temperatures in excess of 40 degrees on consecutive days. It quickly dawned on me that our little love nest was more of a sauna than anything resembling a comfortable home. The kitchy red bricks really hold onto the heat and if the temperature doesn't cool down within a day or two, you could quite successfully hold Bikram Yoga sessions in my loungeroom. I started working later and later, not because we were terribly busy at my firm, but because my office is beautifully air-conditioned and I wanted to hold onto that feeling of being sweat-free for as long as possible. Almost every meal was cooked on the bbq because it meant I didn't have to stand in the kitchen preparing food. I cried for being too hot. I swore at Pom for no reason. I swore at Lucy for no reason. I swore at the house for every bloody reason. I threw tantrums when I couldn't sleep, kicking out at non-existent bedding and hissing at Pom to move further away from me because "you're making me too bloody hot" . The weekends of January through to March were predominantly spent either somewhere with air-con or sitting in the backyard with a hose over my head. Seriously. I had purchased a little inflatable paddling pool for Lucy because her coat absorbs heat especially and I felt sorry for her, then repeatedly kicked her out of the pool so I could sit in it instead. There's not enough room for both.

I'm not good with the heat. Grumpy, Snappy and Tanty become my pseudonyms. As much as I'm glad for the absence of frosts and scarves and beanies and socks, I wish the temperature would stay between 25 and 30 degrees, thanks.

Or that we had ducted cooling in our house.

# posted by Kymmy : 2:22 pm  0 Comments

Friday, October 06, 2006

Decisions, decisions....

It's 5.20am. Pom had to go to Melbourne for work very early this morning so I'm up and awake, in the most general sense of the word.

I have a choice to make now.

Do I;

  1. Be a good girl like I said I would and go and do 6.15am Bodypump at the gym?
  2. Wash and straighten my hair?
  3. Go back to bed and rock up to work this morning with frizzy hair and without a right to gloat about my dedication to physical fitness, thus making today exactly like the other four days of this working week?

WHY IS EVERYTHING SO HARD?

# posted by Kymmy : 5:26 am  1 Comments

Thursday, October 05, 2006

I've got no shame in admitting the following;
  1. Even though I've lived in Victoria for nigh on 8 years now, my heart belongs in Western Australia.
  2. I love AFL.


So, obviously I was pretty pleased about the weekend's result. So much so that I cried when the final siren went. I didn't want to, but the combination of pride, alcohol, adrenalin and the preservatives in the cocktail franks made me do it.


I'm not ashamed to cry a few relieved tears of happiness.


It was a better scenario than last year, when I cried tears of sorrow caused mostly by the 17 glasses of bubbly I'd drank throughout that forsaken heartbreaking battle of sadness. At that time I was in a pub in South Yarra surrounded by Sydney fans. And I lost my voice from shouting. And then I got even more drunk, on oversized cocktails, to the point where I vomited in the toilet of a pub I can't even remember, accosted people on the tram who were wearing West-Coast paraphernalia and made 'friends' with them and then had a memory blank of about four hours. One of the best nights I've had, actually.


But this Grand-final was much, much sweeter.


# posted by Kymmy : 3:57 pm  2 Comments

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