The World According To Me

Deed done

2009-05-30T08:24:00.002+10:00

So, one week and one day ago it was my birthday. I turned 28. I had the most awesome day. Awesome. Awesome. Awesome. Part of the excellence was due to me handing in my resignation. I don't have a job lined up in Adelaide at all. The facts of the matter are that I have basically have three weeks to find a job and a place to live (with the cats - Lucy is going to mum's house) in a city where I am not.

Hello, Universe? It's me, Kymmy. Halp pls.

Awesome.

2009-05-13T07:26:00.003+10:00

Righto, so the opportunity for me to have fruit for morning tea each day isn't going to happen, for some reason unknown to me. And I still have a generalised dislike for recruitment agents.

Boooooooo.

On the upside, I am going here on Saturday and I cannot wait. So excited! This will be the second festival I've been to this year, which makes 2 for my entire lifetime. Yeah, I'm a saddo. Whatevs. I'm going to see the Grates again, and that makes me a happy little clam.

Oh wait

2009-05-05T07:34:00.003+10:00

I had a photo I actually did want to post - of my weekend activities when I'm not frolicking around a city I don't yet live in, being a knob;

I made somewhere in the vicinity of 90 of these babies on Sunday - they have pork and coriander and water chestnuts and shitake mushrooms and lots of other things in them and they taste AWESOME. There are about 70 of them in my freezer at this moment, allowing for the Sunday night dinner I provided for a mate.

Next stop: Pork Buns.

2009-05-05T06:40:00.004+10:00

Can I just take a moment here to rant a little and possibly offend someone in the process? Yep? We cool? Excellent.

Recruitment Agents.

Where in the name of sweet baby jesus did these people come from?

I have never before had any dealings with agents. I've always gotten my jobs (all three of them) via replying to ad an in the paper - employment; kicking it old school. But now things are different and these days, firms who don't use agents aren't usually the ones you want to be employed by. If they're too tight to fork out some commission to get the best staff then they're probably going to cheap out on the bikkies in the tea-room. I'm sure there's a study out there that has created those tenuous links. And biscuit-quality is important to me. So is salary, strangely enough.

So in my quest I have been liaising with some agents to try and get the Massive Life Change underway. The first one I contacted, about 6 weeks ago before I went on my mission, supposedly had the monopoly on the market for my line of work. She's done nothing, so far, except to make promises and then REALLY piss me off by yesterday getting one of her underlings to phone me and tell me she had a fantastic part-time opportunity and would I be interested?

Ummmmm, no. I need to work full time to you know, pay the rent and eat and stuff. "Interesting", she says, "I'll put that in our database. And what area of law are you looking at?". How about the area which covers your principal actually taking notice of what I said in our meeting 2 weeks ago? Or someone reading my cv? Or the one that looks after reading my carefully crafted cover letter? Pffftttt.

An etiquette query - is it okay to tell an agent to shove their database up their jacksie?

It wasn't good timing, yesterday. I am pms-ing like a mofo. It's crazy. I declared to my colleagues yesterday that I simply needed to be quarantined for the next few days. It would be better for everyone that way. How good would it be if there was actually a quarantine for crazy hormonal women? For a few days each month we could be confined to a couch with a doona, multiple family blocks of cadburys and the complete series box set of Scrubs dvd's? Thank me for my ideas later.

I digress. The point I wanted to make was that I have formed a strong dislike for most of the agents I have had dealings with so far. The other point I wanted to make was that I have 3 opportunities in the beginnings stage to effect Massive Life Change and one of them is so exciting I want to wee my pants. 4 clues - 1. Fruit. 2. For. 3. Morning. 4. Tea. ohmigod. (the ohmigod was not a clue. because that would make it 5).

Another, unrelated point was that I had such an awful day yesterday that I came home and opened a bottle of wine. Almost finished it, too. By 8pm. I have re-confirmed with myself that I do not really enjoy drinking alone. But I slept like a baby.

I also got sent some photo's of The Fabulous Night Out Where I Was Looking Hot (see previous post). I laughed so much I actually cried. I was not looking hot at all. I was looking totally cocked. Why were my perceptions so skewed? HILAR. I cannot believe that extra extra tall bloke kissed me. I wouldn't have kissed me.

2009-04-26T23:09:00.003+10:00

Dear Radelaide,

I know that you and I have a fairly short history - not even twelve months have passed since I first visited. But I have returned to you four more times since then, you are my extended weekend away of choice, we always have so much fun when I visit. Your offerings of bushland and beaches within a reasonable drive from one another, your (mostly) super-friendly citizens, your cbd - friendly to the directionally challenged like me, you know I thought it was just the beginning of something beautiful. Am I rushing you, Radelaide? Are you feeling pressured that I want to take the next step? I know it's a bit of a leap, but I feel ready, I feel this is right. It's right, isn't it?

So how about you come good on the job side of things? The interview I took on Monday was really positive, the feedback I got was all awesome, it was just that tiny little thing about the no knowledge of state-based procedure that the HR lady couldn't get past the 2 practitioners concerned. The HR lady loved me, Radelaide, she wanted me and wants me to know that the door isn't closed as far as me and that firm are concerned. I hope the door isn't shut between me and you.

There's just not a lot more on offer at the moment. Oh I know, I could apply for a more intermediary position and piss it in but I don't want to be financially restricted and not be able to enjoy yours fruits to the fullest. And what fruits they are...remember Friday night, Radelaide? Remember those pills and all those lovely people you introduced me to and me kissing that superbly extra-extra-tall man and dancing like a demon with my new friend and my existing friends until the sun came up? I'm glad you remember, because, truthfully, I am a little hazy. All I know is that it was wonderful.

And I want more. Much, much more.

I'm scared too, Radelaide. I'm scared of it just being me and you and sporadic interaction with the three people I know there, and being lonely. But, really, it would still be much better than here, where I am now. Do you know that the highlight of my weekends at the moment is Iron Chef on Saturday nights? Sad. Not the way for a lass clinging to the last few moments (okay, years) of her twenties to be living her life. No siree.

I know we could make it work, Radelaide. I just know it. I'm ready.

Kymmy
xxxxxxxxxxx

2009-04-15T06:54:00.002+10:00

I'm back to being able to listen to 'Fans' again. I think it was the end-of-weekend blues that I get. Or, more specifically, the have-to-go-back-to-work-tomorrow blues. It happens.

It's my 7-year workiversary today. I've made it. Now I can resign when I choose and know that that pro-rata long service leave payment is in the bag. Sweeeeet.

It's all good.

You know when you need to yawn and stretch at the same time and there's nothing that can stop that high-pitched 'yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee' coming out as well? That just happened to me while I was in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil for my coffee. Just to keep you updated, you know. There's something very lovely about that 'yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee'.

I saw my mum and one of my sisters on Good Friday. My sister, who is 18, very randomly tried to pluck a stray hair from my eyebrow with her fingernails, without warning. After batting her hand away with a 'WTF are you doing, you weirdo?!' she said 'It's sticking right out!', as if that is explanation enough for what I momentarily thought was going to be an unprovoked eye gouge. I conceded that my personal maintenance was askew, declaring 'I'm just so unkempt right now'. I then went to point out to my mum that along with my crazy eyebrows, I had myriad grey hair coming through. I put my hands up to my head and went to part my hair to show her exactly where they were, when she said she had already noticed. ALREADY NOTICED HER 27 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER'S GREY HAIR. WITHOUT ME SHOWING HER. I am having my hair done tonight. I had my waxing done yesterday. Even though I am lucky (according to my friend who is Italian) to have quite fine, light hair in most of the places I don't want it, the difference an eyebrow wax makes to ones' mood is astonishing.

I realise how shit that makes me sound. Nevermind.

2009-04-13T21:05:00.002+10:00

It's funny how the impact of a song can change according to ones' mood. I was listening to some Band of Horses earlier, and thinking how horrible it would be if you accidentally put their cd on in the midst of a break-up low. On the other hand, if you were happy and hopeful, the same music would be uplifting and inspiring. See: Jeff Buckley.

Kings of Leon's 'Fans' just came on before. Usually this song makes me happy in my heart and pants, but tonight it only added to my anxious state. I think it's something to do with the momentum of the track, how it rushes and rolls and quickens with the heavy strumming. I love the song but tonight it almost broke my heart. I don't know what's wrong with me. The same things that I usually love about that song tonight made me almost burst into tears.

In exactly one week's time I will have had a job interview. I don't want to put too much emphasis on it but the market is very slow right now, so if I don't come through with the goods then the relocation may be set back awhile. And I don't want that to happen. I've mentally checked out of here, moved on, moved away. Started anew.

Current Obsessions

2009-04-05T14:15:00.004+10:00

Pyjama pants. Lovely, stiff cotton ones with reaaalllly wide legs and satin ribbon to tie the waist.

Biscotti. Any type, but chocolate chip and hazelnut is my current fave. I will have to learn how to make it soon, lest I send myself broke buying it.

Watching my little jalapeno plant come good :)

2009-03-23T23:12:00.003+11:00

Right now I am preparing for a big change. A change I have needed and wanted for a long time before now. I am moving. Moving jobs, moving house, moving cities, moving states. It's completely awesome and exciting and utterly anxiety-inducing and terrifying all at once.

I no longer find any joy in my work, I no longer see the quirks of living in this town, my whole situation is making me very unhappy and so I need to get out. A completely fresh start. The psych and I have discussed this at length and he believes that it is, on the whole, a wondrous idea.

Of course I haven't resigned yet, or found a new job or found a new house. This all needs to happen on my time. I have a very definite plan in place which will see me, hopefully, blogging from my new locale within 2 months. I've told few people except those who need to know. Today I stayed at home, rang and spoke to recruitment agents in my new city, which is a strange experience in itself. I haven't interviewed for a job for 7 years, when I was just a baby, and this whole process of whoring oneself to future employers is somewhat distressing. I'm afraid I won't find the right job, afraid I won't be able to wow them at interview time. I know I'm awesome at what I do, but I also see that when confronted with an unfamiliar situation I turn into 'other Kymmy', who is someone I'm not so fond of. Quiet, anxious, serious and a bit on the edge. It's strange how my emotional state has flipped back and forth even just today. I spoke to an agent who was lovely and positive and excited - after speaking for a few moments she said "Oh, I have exactly the job for you". She gave me the name of the firm and told me that they'd had this position for quite a while but hadn't filled it because they were holding out for the candidate with the right mix of skills and personality to fit in with their culture. I immediately googled them and wondered if I was in a bit over my head. Of course there was very little to go on from the website in relation to the firm's ethos - most legal firms put their serious and distinguished foot foward with a public medium. The problem with this whole thing is that I hate rejection. I understand that no-one really likes it, but I do take it personally. With everything. My skin just ain't that thick. So now I'm wondering what she meant with 'the right personality' comment, and if, at interview time, I'm going to be able to put the other Kymmy away and bring out the good stuff. I guess only time will tell.

Staying in the one job for such a long time has been a double-edged sword. In the last few years especially, my colleagues have become a substitute family of sorts. I have the substitute mum who cuts the pokey-out tags off my clothes and gives advice on stain-removal and other general things that my own mother never taught me. The dad....well, like my own father we have a love/hate relationship which is tumultuous and currently turning a bit rancid. I have substitute sisters and a pretendy-nanna too. On that front, it is pretty good. Conversely, I think I have invested far too much of myself into my job and it is now a situation wherein I have realised that ultimately this is business and I can't take everything personally. It is a bit of a dog eat dog world, and the dogs that are getting fat and happy don't include me.

So, onwards and upwards. I can only hope that my best is enough and I am determined to give my all to create a new and happy future. On the upside of preparing for a massive upheaval of one's life - it creates an absolute necessity to de-clutter. I am in the process of ebaying all of those things I have held onto for no good reason. It's fun, because I can make a little bit of coin out of it, and anyone who's sold anything on ebay will tell you it's addictive. But it's a little bit sad doing the big clean-out of my life. The garage sale will be worse.

The return...maybe

2009-03-17T19:20:00.003+11:00

I know that I have done this before - made promises to blog regularly and then written two half-arsed posts before pissing off back into the ether without so much as a brb. So I hereby promise to no longer make promises. It's better for everyone that way.

I wonder if anyone checks in on this blog anymore. If I were a reader I would've given up eons ago, but if anyone does stop by to see if I have imparted any more stories about being stoned or going to the gym - firstly, why bother? That's not interesting in the slightest. Secondly, hiya!

I've missed blathering on here, I really have. It was an outlet which was cathartic and safe. I liked being able to crap on about what I ate for breakfast on the weekend or muse over what I dreamed about the night before without worrying that whoever I was telling would think I was naff and idiotic. Or if you did, you didn't comment. I like it that way.

There are lots of good things going on in my world at the moment. I have made a verrrry long overdue start into therapy. I do hate that word, 'therapy', it's so American and overused, But my preferences for applicable terms aside, I have a wonderful psychologist who has been and continues to be absolutely magic in helping me make sense of myself. God, that does sound like a pile of wank doesn't it? That doesn't matter - the point is that I feel as though I'm making some pretty amazing inroads at the moment, I am feeling much more in control and actually looking forward to what the future holds. At the directive of the psych I have given up pot. He thought this would be a fairly difficult quest for me but once I got over having to face reality every evening, and more probably to avoid a home-based detox he thought I would benefit from (complete with a week off work and home visits from professionals - for reals. I freaked out at the thought) - it's been fine. My head is clear, my thoughts are clear, and I am almost....allllmost okay with the sleep issues. I've had to find more constructive ways to spend my evenings than spazzing out on the couch and eating anything unfortunate enough to come into my line of vision.

The massive drinking sessions....well, I am still working on that. Again, finding more constructive things to do with my time on weekends is the key - and not thinking that if I don't go out, get messed up and shag someone that my life is not worth living. I still have difficulty just going to the pub/party/function and having one or two drinks, instead of 15. So I just haven't been bothering to go out at all, mostly. Perhaps this is unsustainable and I will simply have to learn how to have a good time without getting completely wasted but for the moment it's a good course of action.

Dinner is calling out to me (roasted veg and spinach & ricotta cannelloni, if you're interested. Slightly weird combination but I need to do my groceries very soon) and I'd best go rescue it.

So, hi again. It's nice to be back.

x

2009-02-09T21:11:00.002+11:00

my dad called me this morning, for the first time in more than 4 years. he wanted to know if i was okay. he had just seen the news.

i assured him i was fine. i'm safe, dad. the fires are about an hour's drive away, in three directions.

i can't see to the end of my street. my house is filled with the acrid smell of smoke. my pets, usually off and about, coming home only for dinner, won't leave me. my inhaler has been a permanent fixture by my side for three days. but we are fine, and we will be fine. so many aren't. my mum, in one of those three directions, was evacuated from her house on saturday. she is fine. my sisters are fine. their house is fine. close call, but they are okay.

i know one elderly couple who have lost their home, in Marysville. they are okay. they have family around them, they have their lives.

so many don't. so much loss. it is truly devastating.

2008-10-20T11:25:00.001+11:00

Well hello there, remember me? I do hope so. Just thought I'd pop by and say g'day and let you know I'm still around. I know that last time I was here I had a little tanty about being sad and being in a not-so-awesome headspace but things are mostly better now. Plus, a couple of weekends ago I re-read through some of my archives and remembered how much I enjoy writing.

I would like to think it is a co-incidence but my elevated mood has, I think, something to do with getting back on the exercise bandwagon. I have been Body-pumping and treadmill-running my way to soreness almost every single day and am loving it. This behaviour is now an identifiable pattern - going to the gym, eating well = happy Kymmy times. Then something comes along to knock me out of the routine and I start eating crappily, drinking heavily, smoking too much pot, not getting my sweat on and ultimately I end up feeling like shit. But right now I have a gym buddy and have devised an actual time-table for our activities. See?

Gym-buddy's name has been covered-up to protect the innocent. It's so cool, even in the last week - which is the sum total of time spent on our campaign so far, my body is already changing. Whereas I was starting to feel like and resemble Boneless Peter, I can now feel my muscles starting to pull in, my posture changing. The only bad thing is my belly, which is a squishy mess at the moment. I do hope this starts to come good because at the moment, it. is. gross.

My bestest friend and housemate departed for the fair city of Adelaide a couple of weeks ago. She landed her dream job over there and took her chance to get out of this bloody town and relocated. I miss her terribly. On the upside, her asshole cat has gone too and on another upside, my house is really very tidy and continues to stay that way after I clean it. However, I really do miss her company and how well we knew eachother. It feels like a little part of me is missing. Obviously, given the technology of the present day we are constantly in contact and this is making it easier. Plus I am heading over there next month and she is coming back in December and I will be over there again at the end of January for....

The Big Day Out!

Now this is exciting. I am ashamed to admit that I have never been to a BDO before despite desperately wanting to. I am aware that the line up for BDO '09 isn't the greatest but I am still excited and it's going to be something I can cross off my 'Things to do before I'm 30' list. I am very much looking forward to seeing Birds of Tokyo again (I caught their show at the Hi-Fi last month and it was fucking awesome) and the Grates and The Ting Tings and Pendulum and Cut Copy and the Prodigy just for shits and giggles. Not so sure what to expect in terms of being in the sun for an entire day and dealing with an enormous crowd etc etc.

I think that generally brings us up to date. There is a boy in my life too, but I'm not entirely sure I want to blog about him. It is a reasonably precarious and confusing and exciting situation, as it has been for the past three months, and I don't know how to articulate it here, or if I even want to. I'm just going to keep that one to myself for the moment, I think.

It's good to be back.

Oh Hai

2008-08-27T14:02:00.000+10:00

I'm here. I'm still around. I'm just busy hating my job and again being completely disillusioned with shit that is happening in my life. Who has time for blogging when you're preoccupied with man-hating, getting stoned, drinking too much gin, counting prematurely grey hairs and putting on weight just in time for the sun to come out?

If you don't have anything nice to say then don't say anything at all. It's not all as bad as that but I'll be back when I'm in a better frame of mind.

The Personal Trainer Was Awesome...

2008-07-21T13:43:00.000+10:00

I made it, albeit with a cosmo induced hangover (I know, I know, cosmo's are soooo 2004). My appointment turned out to be with the bloke, whom I spent the entire hour trying not to look in the eye lest they belay my very real intentions to be to really, really, really good and healthy from now on (and not have dirty hangovers). I was also convinced I was sweating out that stinky alcohol smell too. But before I left home I had downed about 2L of water and had to walk about a kilometre to pick my car up from outside the pub where I'd left it the night before, so I was feeling more 'together' than I otherwise may have been.

I had to fill out their 3-page questionnaire on what my goals are and what I eat for breakfast and how much exercise I already do at the moment, etc. I decided not to try and sugarcoat it to make myself feel better so when we were discussing my answers later I explained to him that I feel as though I'm an all or nothing person when it comes to fitness. I will be going to the gym 5 times a week without fail and will be feeling great and that it will take one tiny disruption to my routine and I will fall off the wagon, after which time I will be attempting to fuse to the couch while stuffing my face with twisties.

We then went through the fitness assessment including being weighed (!!) and finding out my body-fat percentage. Whilst I am relieved that I am more me than fat, there is still a lot of room for improvement. We went through some basic exercises in 30 second blocks to get a bit of a yardstick to work from herein - 30 seconds of tricep dips, crunches, squats, bicep curls, push-ups, step-ups etc, all the while with my heart-rate being monitored to see how my body was responding to the effort (poorly!).

So all of that took about 40 minutes. For the remaining 20 he guided me through what he said would be fairly typical of a session - basically more weights. I would expect that in an actual session there would be a fair proportion of cardio as this is what I feel that I need and this is also where I will benefit from having someone beside me, pushing. Because I am, fundamentally, quite lazy when I am only accountable to myself. Thus the whole motivation behind wanting to go to personal training from the outset.

All in all it was really great, although I would like to perhaps work with the lady trainer there to see what the difference is. I am told that she is a lot tougher, and that may perhaps be better suited. The dude was good, but there was a lot of 'that's excellent, keep going you're doing great' type of guff which made me a little wary.

So hopefully this week I'll get a call to sort out when I can start going on a regular basis. I'm planning on one 1-1 session and one small group session per week. This way my bank account won't get completely broken and it leaves me some nights to go to the gym and work it out for myself.

Yay!

Friday survey

2008-07-18T15:08:00.003+10:00

A) Wrong?

or

B) So right it makes your brain explode when you look at them?

Answers in the comments section, in the next 4 days & 4 hours please.

2008-07-18T11:05:00.000+10:00

How many times can you hold up a pair of shoes to someone and ask "How much would you pay for these?", have them answer (the actual amount they guess is not important) and then you say "How does three dollars and forty cents sound, huh?!".

The correct answer is eleven. Twelve if you count the person who says "I wouldn't pay anything for those". But I don't count that person. That person has no place in my life.

2008-07-18T10:03:00.001+10:00

Last weekend I was supposed to go and see this personal trainer to have a fitness assessment and find out exactly how fat and unfit I have become since I got my winter lazy on. The day before I received a phone-call postponing the appointment because of a "scheduling conflict" and to my surprise, I was actually disappointed. Usual disappointments for me include; realising I have no sweeties in the house when I am stoned, the quality of television on Thursday nights, and men (generally), but certainly the prospect of not having my arse handed to me on a sweaty platter by someone I am paying an exorbitant amount to would not usually have me feeling let down. So you know, there's something to ponder. Weird.

In any event I am now booked in to go and see her/him (there's a boy personal trainer and a girl personal trainer and I am not sure which one I am seeing or would prefer to see) tomorrow morning. After my appointment I hope to be motivated, pumped up and inspired, with "Eye of the Tiger" playing on repeat in my brain. In reality I am expecting that I will come away wondering how I let myself go so badly.

Because I am easily distracted, this reminds me of the time a friend of mine went to a new gym and they did all her measurements etc, including her body fat percentage. She was (and is again) a big girl, but she was distraught when her body fat levels came in at 52%. FIFTY TWO PERCENT. She said "Kymmy, I'm more fat than I am me". We laughed then and I still laugh now, but for the love of God I hope that doesn't happen to me tomorrow.

2008-07-17T15:26:00.002+10:00

I just bought a pair of shoes which are green, with tiny white polka-dots.

They are flat, ballet flats made of canvas (the proper descriptor will come to me later) and I shall wear them with jeans. When the weather gets warmer I shall wear them with a skirt.

I paid $3.40 for them.

The happiness I feel about this should be worrying.

Things and Stuff

2008-07-09T12:19:00.002+10:00

I have missed all possible episodes (2) of 'Farmer Wants A Wife' and now I won't be able to watch it at all. Don't judge me for wanting to.

I want to live in a cosy apartment by myself and have everything I need within reach of the sofa. I want to live in a cosy apartment by myself and have my whole home heated, negating the need to turn on the electric blanket on my bed two hours prior and run the gauntlet from overheated lounge room to bed-warmed-on-one-side-only through the freezing house when I want to go to sleep.

It is nice to hear the message tone on my phone beep nowadays. There is a 65% chance the text is from a boy in Adelaide and if so, there is a 80% chance the content could be described as 'sweet' or 'interested'. If the message is received after 9pm on a weekend then there is a 97% chance that said content could be described as 'reflective', 'flirty' or 'hopeful'. On a mostly unrelated note I have booked flights to go back to Adelaide in 6 weeks time for another mini holiday.

I posted here a few weeks ago about how slobbish one of my housemates was. I was angry. I took the post down a couple of days later. A couple of days after that we had a booked-in, sit-down 'house meeting' where over wine I called her a slob and she called me moody and now we're the best of friends again. She is coming to Adelaide with me.

I am booked in to have a fitness assessment with a personal trainer on Saturday morning. As described to a friend in an e-mail, I need a "massive kick to the box" to get me back on the wagon. I desperately want to look and feel better this summer than summers past. Desperately.

I like using the word 'box'. Don't judge me for doing so.

If one has 'feelings' (what are they again?) for a boy with whom one has made the sex with on a number of occasions and thinks one actually has a connection with and then said boy wants some advice and warm soothing words because he's accidentally going to become a dad and is scared it is perfectly acceptable for one to tell him he is a dirty whore and to get your fucking hand off my leg while you tell me about your impending parenthood, fuck you. It is then required that as one walks out of the bar with a head full of wine stemming drunken tears while muttering 'I can't believe I held out for him' that your best friend puts her arm around your shoulders, makes clucking noises and declares that you are far too good for him anyway. Even if deep down you know that you are not good enough and that is precisely the problem.

I want to go to Spain.

Riddle me this - why the fuck would I accept a friend request on Facebook from an ex-boyfriend who had done the dirty on me and I have had absolutely no contact with since we broke up (aside from screening calls) and do not ever want to hear from again? In the event that he is reading this blog, which I am fairly certain he does: Fuck off and leave me well alone, yeah?

I like the taste of chardonnay too, too much and this disappoints me. Why can't I like drinking a slightly non-bogan wine, say a Sauvignon Blanc or a Pinot Gris?

The answer, my blogfriends, is that as much as I hate it, I am more than a little bit of a bogan.

If all was right in the world I would be having a baby this week. Not all is right in the world.

I am booked in to have a sore, probably infected, wisdom tooth pulled tomorrow. In the chair. I only go to the dentist when I can eat no longer, but fear of pain does not influence my decision. Fear of having my bank account emptied rules it.

The reason I don't take my car to the mechanic as often as I should is based on the same reasoning.

One thing I love about winter is observing the obsession that Agnes and Esme have with the gas heater in the lounge room. They jostle for the best position and start out like snuggly little kitty-loaves, paws tucked in and tail wrapped firmly around, but as they get warmer they stretch into the most wonderful positions. Esme does one on her back, with all fours in the air, not a care in the world . As they get warmer they get more pliable and placid. By 9pm I can arrange Agnes like a doll. It is most fun.

I am not enjoying my job.

I have cooked 'balanced' meals almost every night for the past week. Except for Friday, when I ate warm bread and yoghurt based dips. It floated in my belly atop the wine. How's that for a curdling visual.

When I walked to work this morning the air was so cold and sharp it felt like it was slicing through my throat. I took in the deepest breaths I could and it was the most alive I have felt in a long time.

2008-07-01T14:45:00.003+10:00

Bahahahahaha.

I'll come back and tell you about Adelaide soon. It was freakin awesome.

I know, I know, another bloody graph. But they do make me laugh so

2008-06-24T21:30:00.002+10:00

2008-06-23T10:14:00.000+10:00

I feel decidedly revolting right now. Not as in only just today (although today it seems to be magnified, being a Monday and all) but I have just been feeling grotty in general, for weeks now. I know why it is too, and I know how to fix it but I just can't get out of this funk in order to do so. I need to stop drinking so much. I need to get back to the gym or regular walking or something and I need to pull my finger out of my arse and start eating properly. It has been over a month since I gave up eating meat, and about three weeks since I have prepared a balanced meal. I have been relying on Turkish rolls filled with mushrooms and sun-dried tomatoes and grilled eggplant and baby spinach and cheese, when I know that wheat products make me feel bloated and awful. I have been eating chocolate again, in bed, at night, which then of course fucks up my sleep and the cycle continues. Even my bedroom is more of a frothing mess than usual, and this fuels the discordance from when I rise (late, always late) and have to run around and try to find clean clothes, which don't require ironing. Usually the latter requirement is struck off when it appears that I shall be late to work again. My skin feels gross and itchy. My legs are scaly from where I can't be bothered to moisturise them. My hair seems to switch overnight between being wiry and out of control to being oily and lank. I am back drinking coffee and not eating breakfast. I have puffy eyes which don't recede until past 10am. I am fucking grumpy, even though my period started on the weekend so the crazy hormone show should be over.

I am flying to Adelaide this weekend for 3 days and nights of getting retarded in a city which I don't live in. I'm going there with a friend who will be a terrible (read: awesome) influence on me. It is in attempt to have a little holiday after the car-crash which was my birthday escape (which I realise I have not blogged about. I may at some stage, but in summary - it was terrible).

Once I return from that it will be time to have a bit of a life-detox.

2008-06-11T19:12:00.002+10:00

How completely awesome is a mid-week bottle of good ol' chardy?

Pretty awesome, I'll give you the tip.

Also, how good is Machine Gun Fellatio's 'The girl of my dreams (is giving me nightmares)'?

Favourite lyric - "She's got style, she's got violent ways about her". Also, "The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares/I don't know what it means, but she's got multi-coloured hair/When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches/And I'm not sure what that means either". Oh Pinky, you funny fucker.

2008-05-28T21:22:00.001+10:00

BRB

2008-05-20T22:03:00.002+10:00

Okay, okay, so after the complete fucking atrocity of my birthday last year I swore there would be no repeat of that ever again because, well, birthdays are supposed to be special, right?

So tomorrow I'm jumping on a plane to Queensland for a coupla days.

I am well excited.

Saturday morning question from Afrogirl (superhero on a tiny level)

2008-05-17T09:30:00.003+10:00

Have promised to go to the local footy today, only it is bloody freezing and drizzling and my hair is starting to frizz in anticipation.

Do I rug up and venture out into the day, drink cheap beer and eat sausages in bread whilst stemming the inevitable drippy-cold nose? Or do I pike and spend as much as humanly possible of my Saturday in pyjamas, eating crisps?

Ooooooh, conundrum.

On wasabi peas

2008-05-15T20:08:00.003+10:00

I'm completely addicted. The ones I got from the market on the weekend were a disappointment, to be honest. Not bitey enough. 'Always Fresh' do the best wasabi peas. I have an open packet beside me, my nose is running and my mouth is burning like a motherfucker. Half a handful at once will do that.

But I won't stop, oh no no no.

2008-05-11T12:32:00.002+10:00

A Friday night girly gathering. Big glasses of mid-priced wine, poorly played darts, Shaun of the Dead for the 40th time (still love it).

A Saturday morning girly trip to the markets.

Purchased: A big bag of wasabi peas (finished off as I type this). A headwrap in chocolate browns from an English hippy.

Spotted: Michael Leunig. I wanted to stop him and tell him that my fridge is covered with his work, ripped unevenly from the newspaper. I didn't. A tall man with shaggy brown hair and piercing blue eyes (an actor from Seachange apparently. I never watched it so I've no idea who he is, but even amongst the hoards at the Violet Town markets he stood out to me. He had a presence). A friend who has spent the last twelve months in far away places doing volunteer work for OzGREEN. He hugged me so tightly I almost lost my breath. I have never before known someone who has such an aura of kindness about them. He is very special.

Ate: Everything possible. Samples of relish with relish. Mustard on broken crackers. Slivers of brie that was so creamy it melted onto fingers. Two chicken satay sticks with the most delectable peanut sauce you could conceive. The lady who runs that stall is the real deal. "Can you tell me what the curry puffs have in them?", "Just wegies. Only wegies".

A Saturday night spent with girl(y)friends. Platters of cheese, olives, big dark sundried tomatoes, pumpkin and cashew dip, the best tapenade I have ever tasted, warm turkish bread with olive oil and dukkah, so much wine. The Beatles in the background.

A long-ish walk to a trendy bar. Marveling at the young poppets and the scarceness of adequate clothing. Illusion shots at the bar, vodka and orange in the beer garden. Dancing in front of the decks. We are really too old for that shit. But now and again we love it.

This morning I pointedly brewed coffee and poached two eggs, setting them on grain-filled toast with cracked pepper and warm hollandaise from the jar. The eggs were perfect. I have never perfectly poached eggs before. I like to think the universe is conspiring. I sat at the table while my housemates slept, ate the eggs, drank the coffee and watched out on to the street for something interesting to happen. An elderly man walked his dog past the house, slowly.

I pointedly made a lunch of vegetable frittata and salad, with kalamata olives and danish feta included. I sat at the table and ate while reading the A2. I watched out on the street for something interesting to happen. The neighbour across from our house parked his porche.

There is a pot of soup cooling on the stove, waiting for my brand new stick mixer to come and finish it up. Pumpkin and sweet potato, with plenty of turmeric. My winter soup.

I am utterly obsessed with food right now. Is it obvious?

This weekend has been lovely. It is important for me to take stock once in a while, to remember how lucky I am, really. To remember that sometimes the shit just needs to take a back seat and let the good things shine through.

2008-05-02T16:46:00.002+10:00

Hey kids,

Just checking in to say hey. Things are still good. Good and busy.

x

The most nanna-ish of all nanna weekends

2008-04-27T22:55:00.003+10:00

And how wonderful it was.

Thursday night I got my brave on and accepted an invitation to have dinner with some people who I, for no particular reason, don't tend to socialise with very much any more. In the past few years I have drifted away from only hanging out with people I knew through work. I guess this partly results from living in this town for longer and finally meeting people who don't tend to discuss clients and case-law and the mood the Magistrate was in at Court that day, which can be nice. But it also helpful to have people with whom you can debrief a particularly shit work day, who understand what's going on in your work-world. In any event, I went and had dinner and drinks with these friends/acquaintances and it was really, very nice. I am further pleased to be reminded that I can go out and not get screamingly shickered and have a good time. I did know this, however recent form would suggest otherwise.

Friday I was hangover free. Hurrah! One housemate had left for Melbourne the eve before and the other was headed down to visit friends on Friday morning. I stood on the front porch in my pj's and waved as her car drove off, waited until the car was out of sight, then raced inside and turned the stereo up full bore (I had the J's on, they were playing the new Pendulum song - I'm not usually one for drum & bass but it was auspiciously perfect for my mood) and started doing a little happy dance/fit. Time to myself! Yay! I was going to do a sweet lot of fuck-all, all weekend. With no-one cramping my style! Yay! I do love my housemates, don't get me wrong, but almost 3 days of peace with no-one talking to me/changing channels every 6 seconds/messing up the kitchen - it was going to be sweet!

I kept dancing/fitting and moving from the loungeroom, to the kitchen to the bathroom, back to the loungeroom where the Pendulum track finished and Guts' "And The Living Is Easy" started. I luuurrrvve that song. I love that song and I had the house to myself and it was a long weekend and it was very much still the morning so I had a whole day ahead of me so what better reason that to whip one's top off and carry on dancing in pj pants and a sports bra? I can't think of any better reason. I danced into my bedroom whereby the funk almost immediately left me when I spied myself in the mirror. Ewwww.

Next stop - gym!

I have posted about how my recent non-smoking attempt has had me exercising a lot more than I had been (but then again, 1 is a lot more than 0, so perhaps not so impressive), mainly to provide a healthy distraction which doesn't involve me shovelling everything I can find into my mouth or emptying my already empty bank account. I have been doing a shit-load of walking and recently joined my housemate V at circuit classes. I find Circuit to be very cheesy, some nights it's more like a sheltered workshop than a gym class and V and I are pretty much the youngest participants, sometimes by about 20 years. However, there's no denying that it gets the heart going and leaves me a bit sweaty at the end which can only be a good thing. It is a great foray into cardio for me.

(As an aside, I was telling my other housemate, who is thin and sporty and has no problem catching her breath when exerting herself, how proud I was of myself going to Circuit. This is primarily because in my other gym-goin' times, I have always stuck to weights-focused or flexibility focused classes, like BodyPump or BodyBalance. This is because I already know I am strong and I know I am reasonably flexible and have the ability to go to those classes without failing miserably. I would never, ever have contemplated a Step class or something like that prior to now. Step is next on my hit-list).

Anyway, I rocked up to the gym and it was virtually empty. I guess that other people were doing more exciting things with their long weekend, like going away, or sleeping in. My gain. I did a warm-up on the bike, then the parts of the weights circuit that I could remember from the last time I did weights (circa. 1879 judging by how my body reacted) which took about 25mins then I eyed off each of the pieces of cardio equipment to size up which one would cause me the least amount of sorrow. Saddled up on the recumbant bike, turned my mp3 player up to "deaf by 30" and cracked hardy. In the old days of gymming (06? 05 even?) I would set the bike to a Hill or Interval program and a reasonably difficult intensity setting, then as soon as the first 'hill' hit my quads would scream and I would start to get puffed so would crank it down again and pootle away for the remainder of the 20 minutes being a wee bit disappointed with myself. But that was the Old Kymmy With No Lung Capacity Or Real Tenacity (dudes that so rhymes). This time I put it on the Interval program, set the intensity to 10 (out of 20, don't get excited) and did the whole thing maintaining an RPM of 80 - Hurrah!! When I finished I was puffing, but it wasn't the beyond-the-point-of no-return kind of breathless so I soldiered on to my old nemesis the treadmill. To cut a long story short I got a bit excited a did some running. Not for long mind you, only 2 minutes and then 2 1/2 minutes and then 2 minutes again, within the 20 minutes that the treadmill is set for. But I actually ran/jogged/shuffled! I was and am so pleased. When I had done the requisite stretching (which I never usually do unless it's incorporated into a class), walked out to my car and caught sight of my face in the rearview mirror I was so red I would not have looked out of place in a giant tin of beetroot.

The rest of the weekend was spent in a beautifully lazy fashion, aside from one time on Saturday afternoon when I blew the cobwebs off the treadmill I have at home and did a whole hour of it including more running (!) and using the dreaded incline function. Again, tomato face afterwards but I did not feel like I was going to die and this is the important difference between now and the old pretendy fitness days when I was too scared to try very hard.

I also cooked and ate and watched some tele and Facebooked and read blogs and did housework and purchased Jiff (how have I lived before knowing the wonder of Jiff?!) and sorted through old clothes and made an impressive donation of same to St Vinnies. There are many more clothes to sort through but I need to do these things gradually. Also I definiteatly have to start on which shoes I am going to throw away/give to St Vinnies but to be truthful, this particular task fills me with dread. I truly love all of my shoes, even those that I had forgotten I owned and/or those I have never worn. Truly.

All in all I feel really motivated and excited and positive which is more than I can say of the last year or so, for the most part.

The only bugbear is that since the connection of the nets at home I have severely neglected my reading and this annoys me greatly. From my current vantage point (propped up in bed) I can see the following which require my attention;

A Short History of Nearly Everything - Bill Bryson (147 pages in);
Allan Carr's Easy Way To Stop Smoking - Allan Carr (35 pages in);
Choosing Happiness - Life and Soul Essentials - Stephanie Dowrick (0 pages in);
Atonement - Ian McEwan (9 pages in);
On Chesil Beach - Ian McEwan (0 pages in).
Saturday's Age (untouched);
Sunday's Age (untouched).

I recently put three partially read books, The Life of Pi, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, and a biography of Frank Sinatra (title or author I can't recall and I dont want to get out of bed because I'm all cosy), back on the shelf because they were literally gathering dust on my side tables. I have never had such literary ADHD before and it unnerves me somewhat.

But if that's the least of my worries then life is pretty sweet.

2008-04-23T14:31:00.002+10:00

The non-smoking is going reasonably well. I am no longer counting how many hours it has been; the integers have stretched into days. This is positive. It has been 10 days today. This is by far the furthest I have ever gotten to without randomly bursting into tears or wanting to cause harm to others with a strategically placed fork, before relapsing back into the comforting familiarity of a packet of Malboro Lights each day. There was, however, a semi-planned relapse on the weekend when the issue of getting on the sauce was raised by my housemates on Saturday. I wanted to go out with them, and I wanted to drink, but I was reasonably sure that once I had consumed a few champies that I would probably want to smoke. The semi-plan was that I would not panic if I did smoke. And I did smoke a couple during the night. Sunday I was back off them, and have been back off them until now.

Thus far, the positives of the past ten days have been -

I am taking far, far less time to do things. I never realised how little time tasks potentially could take if you don't stop for a fag a couple of times along the way. This applies mainly to getting ready for work in the morning, and getting ready to go out to the pub.

I can smell EVERYTHING! This could potentially go in the list of negatives also.

My sense of taste has increased too, but not dramatically. The flavour of foods I thought I knew are increasingly revealing new depths.

I am working out like a demon. I need something to do to distract myself when I would usually smoke. This has involved walking 3kms at lunchtime and visits to the gym almost every night after work. I have re-discovered liking exercise! Definitely aided by;

Being able to breathe properly. I never really thought that my lung capacity had been affected too badly by smoking and that the fact that I got puffed so easily was because I carry too much weight and just wasn't consistent enough with exercise to have any CV fitness. Since being back at the gym in the last week and a half and not fagging on like I used to, I have had an amazing increase in my lung capacity and stamina. Plus, in the midst of my time-wasting at work/internet research, I discovered some breathing exercises that supposedly help with cravings. It is truly lovely to be able to take what feel like enormously deep breaths. This will apparently continue to improve for a while yet too.

Not so grate, akshully;

Frequently, I am at a loss as to what to do with myself. This is admittedly quite a general statement, but to clarify, I am learning how to deal with situations where I would have lit up automatically, now without smoking. After getting off the phone to a shitty client, for example, you would inevitably find me out the back of the office sucking furiously on a cigarette. Or when having a coffee, it goes hand in hand with having a smoke for me. So I have had to give up coffee. Which I guess is sort of a good thing. I have been drinking a lot of water, which apparently helps as well, but I am sure that quite shortly someone at work will complain about how many trips to the toilet I make.

Back to smelling everything….this includes when my smoking colleagues come back in the office from their break and I can almost pinpoint their preferred brand from the smell. At the risk of sounding completely obvious, it smells really bad. Like, really bad. Who knew.

I have not saved any coin whatsoever. Because I am not spending the money I usually would on cigarettes this apparently gives me the right to BUY THE WORLD. On the upside, I purchased the most beautiful red winter coat yesterday and I just want to look at it and touch it and hold it forever.

I am getting a little self-righteous about my progress and my new commitment to (relatively) clean living. Which will inevitably set me up for a fall in some way.

I have been coughing up the most vile shit you can imagine ever coming from your own body. Not to gross you out, but it's brown. And I mean brown. For goodness sake.

Life, as it is right now, is good.

2008-04-21T16:25:00.000+10:00

Life, as it is right now, is good in an 'I woke up this morning with perfectly excellent hair' kind of way.

Life, as it is right now, is good in a 'Bom chicka wa wa' kind of way.

Life, as it is right now, is good in a 'I'm not thinking about wanting a cigarette every waking moment' kind of way.

It's a nice change.

2008-04-17T16:18:00.000+10:00

This week has been much less eventful than the last one, everything is intact and everyone survived.

Except right now I'm an angry swirling bundle of oestrogen AND I'm in the middle of another attempt to give up smoking AND caffeine AND I'm getting over a cold that just will not move from my chest so I will post properly at another time.

Be good.

x

I never thought I would say this, but I actually prefer Craig David's version.

2008-04-10T12:21:00.002+10:00

Monday - spilt coffee into lap, necessitating a change of clothes. (refer to previous post). It felt like I was back in prep, the day I couldn't negotiate the zip on my hellishly cool tiny acid-wash jeans and wet my pants. Because my mum was working and couldn't pick me up from school I had to rely on lost property and got around for the rest of the day in a pair of dodgy rust coloured tracksuit pants with double-knees (remember those?!). Except this time I didn't actually wet myself, and there were no double-knee trackies. But still. Monday night my team got flogged at netball and I strained a muscle in my arm in the process.

Tuesday - New accounts girl quit on the spot. She was a mole and no-one liked her, so this was good. I get told I am taking over her job until they find a replacement. As well as continuing to fulfil my existing role. No recompense for extra work. Cunts. To make me even more angry, an impromptu office meeting is called and it is announced that I have "put my hand up to take over the accounts work". Lying cunts.

Wednesday - Wake up with a head cold. Spend entire day wanting to rip my nose off my face. Receive phone-call from my Mother telling my that my 15 year old sister attempted to take her own life the night previous. She is physically okay.

Today - Wake up to discover I can hardly breathe as said cold had moved to my chest. Am coughing up weirdness and have to find asthma inhaler, which is now 2 years out of date. Turn on phone to find goodbye message from my two best friends who left the country last night for forever. Had a cry. Turn up to work a little bit late. Forgot there was a whole office meeting scheduled for 8.30. Am forgiven on the basis that I look like shit. Learn that admin staff will no longer be allocated on-site parking. I will have to walk to work every single day. CUNTS.

Tomorrow - Dog will die. I will get fired. Will break a limb/be involved in an accident necessitating amputation of a limb. None of my clothes will fit. Cadbury will announce they are going into liquidation. Will receive huge electricity bill. Hair will fall out.

This week is cocking cocked.

2008-04-07T16:28:00.000+10:00

My day started with my knocking a full cup of coffee into my lap, necessitating a trip back home to get changed.

It has not gotten much better.

Please send positive thoughts my way that I can make it to midnight without walking into a street-sign, slipping on a banana skin, or getting tangled up at knee level by dog-leads. It's that kind of day.

Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Yours, still smelling of Moccona,

Kymmy
xxx

Good Question.

2008-04-02T13:56:00.003+11:00

2008-03-31T10:33:00.000+11:00

It always amazes me how drinking fucks so completely with resolve. And fucks with manners. And lets out that part of you that you try to pretend doesn't even exist; shielded by inhibition and sobriety.

In the cold exposure of the daylight hours, there is nowhere to hide from remorse. It seeps into every crevice, dragging down the sheet, exposing all that the darkness empathically hid. Turning that connection into abashment; turning sexy, smoky eyes into a garish clown face.

In the days to come you can close your eyes and re-live those moments that clung to your memory, unaware that you are holding your breath while they flash through your mind. You can feel it again, and again. Then you slowly exhale, and struggle with Miss Proper on your shoulder telling you that you've wrecked it now. Wrecked that possibility thanks to a bottle of champagne, lowered eyelashes and lips curled in a way you are absolutely certain will work. It always has. And for a good few years yet, you are certain it always will.

M. Scott Peck has a valid point on his theory of delaying gratification. But I bet he hasn't tested that theory when he's pissed.

For future reference

2008-03-19T09:47:00.000+11:00

The internets have EVERYTHING.

A question for a day wherein if I weren't so stoned I'd call and ask my mum....

2008-03-18T20:24:00.001+11:00

Can soy sauce ever go off?

2008-03-17T15:14:00.001+11:00

If we always had long weekends, would Tuesday then become the new Monday?

Discuss.

2008-03-14T15:42:00.002+11:00

"I need to eat. Now".

It is approximately 8pm. There are four of us. We are sitting in the backyard. We are very, very stoned.

There are various discussions of both the benefits and shortcomings of ordering a pizza.

"We always order pizza, let's do something different".

"I refuse to eat pineapple in the context of a savoury dish".

"My fingers are really long today".

………

Thai food is the next suggestion, promptly discarded once it is discovered that no-one can agree on what to order. One person declares they do not like green curry and the rest of us stare at her in disbelief and disgust.

Someone volunteers that they are sure that one of the kebab shops in town has started delivery. Much excitement ensues! Kebabs! Perfect! Delivered! Perfect! But which kebab shop is it? There are at least four of them. The local phonebook is produced and V is nominated as Chief Kebab Shop Caller. Three of them are eliminated in quick succession. Only one possibility remains. The handset is set to speaker function and I read out the number slowly.

Ring ring.

Ring ring.

Ring ring.

We are collectively holding our breath that the phone will pick up.

Ring ring.

"Good evening *insert name of local gym of which we are all members*, Turtle speaking"

V: "Ummmmm"

Turtle: "Hello?"

V: "Is this……..is this not Kebablicious?"

Turtle: "Kebablicious? I WISH it was Kebablicious!"

V: "Sorry man"

Turtle, chuckling: "No worries".

We hang up. Everyone bursts into fits of uncontrollable laughter, the type with tears and near misses with bladder control. This goes on for a number of minutes. It is then realised that we are still no closer to getting our dinner and the finger of blame is squarely pointed at me, for obviously reading the number out wrong. I check the phone and discover the last two digits have been entered incorrectly. I'm sure I read it out in the right order. I carefully type the number in myself, then throw the phone to V like a hot potato, as I absolutely do not want to be responsible for speaking.

Ring ring.

Ring ring.

We expectantly lean forward in our seats.

"Good evening *insert name of local gym of which we are all members*, Turtle speaking"

V: "Oh…….this still isn't kebablicious"

Turtle: "Hehehehehe he he he *snort* he"

V: "Bye"

We eventually did get our kebabs, delivered to our door. They were very tasty and absolutely worth the stoned loser attempts to use the phone correctly.

This morning I was still scattered and a colleague asked me how I was.

I replied "Did you know Kebablicious delivers?"

Monday should always be a public holiday.

2008-03-10T16:10:00.003+11:00

Blogging from my couch is an indulgence I had forgotten about. It is quite lovely. I have a tall glass of orange cordial on the coffee table beside me, together with the course material and text from the criminology unit I am pretending to be working on. I have only typed 2 pages of notes pertaining to the formal mechanisms of social control and already my mind is numb. This whole uni thing is going to take some getting used to, again. My patterns of thinking have been inside the square for so long now that my brain is almost a cube.

This long, glorious weekend was both long and glorious. It was spent, for the most part, with friends in the big smoke. My housemates* and I trekked down on Friday afternoon, getting pulled up by the Police on the Hume for speeding and the driver explaining "I'm sorry, but we were singing show tunes and didn't realise how fast we were going. Shirley Bassey does that to you". We saw Keating! The Musical on Friday night and marvelled in its' brilliance. We had drinks at the Imperial afterwards, and I nearly imploded when we walked in to a Young Liberals gathering, sandwich board and all.

The following morning, after a cooked breakfast and a reasonably hassle-free game of scrabble (a rarity, but then again we weren't drinking so the chances of an argument were lowered) we headed to the local shopping plaza and plattered up. Then after an appropriate amount of arsing around buying tasty treats and stocking up on drinks, we began the afternoon session. I do love drinking in the daytime (When the occasion calls for it. Like, a Saturday). Later that night, suitably liquored up, we headed to the Retreat. It was my first time there. I am always relieved when I go somewhere in Melbourne and find that it's "my type of place", having well-placed phobias of uppity posh bars where I could never fit in or relax.

On Sunday, whilst my housemates continued on their journey to the Chillout Festival in Daylesford, I hung out with my besties, playing more scrabble and later was taken into the city where I ate the best Mee Goreng noodles and stocked up on nori rolls. There is only one place that does them here in Shepparton (seriously. I could not be more ashamed to write this) and they are rubbish anyway, so I always get my fix when I'm in Melbourne. I boarded the train in the early evening and was home by 10pm to be greeted by whingy cats and a grateful dog.

I slept in peacefully this morning and pottered around doing inane things before settling down in the loungeroom to finally get cracking on some study. Just prior to the housemates getting home.

Sigh.

Sometimes I do wish I lived alone again. I miss it. I don't miss always being broke (although, stangely, that still seems to be the case, mostly) but I do miss the quiet and the space and the ability to only worry about being considerate to myself and not being a tiny bit offended if I'm not considerate back.

*Without leaving this post and checking my blog, I'm not sure if I had mentioned that I now have two housemates.

2008-02-27T13:05:00.000+11:00

I have often reflected on how lucky I am that I generally quite enjoy my job. My colleagues were always really good sorts, my work interesting varied and my mentors inspiring. I have worked with the same firm for almost six years (SIX YEARS!) and I would not run out of fingers if I counted the number of times I had gotten seriously pissed off and considered moving on. And only once have I actually applied for another job. Which, in six years, isn't a bad run. I've worked in two offices within the same firm, about half of my time in each. The office that I'm in now is very small, twelve or so people, so we sort of have to get along for the most part or it makes the hours of 8.30 until 5pm quite difficult. I've also been quite lucky in that a couple of the people I work with have turned into people I am friends with outside of the office. Two girls, in particular, I would consider amongst my closest friends.

However, just before Christmas, one of those girls left cos she got all babied up - twins! They are nearly cooked* and it is all very lovely especially because they are IVF babies and extra extra precious. She has unfortunately had a fairly troublesome pregnancy and had to finish work much earlier than expected so that she could lay down in a hospital bed for weeks on end to keep the babies from falling out**. She is out of the danger period now through and is allowed home. I went and saw her last week and made her have a photo taken with me to document the one and only time that my belly will be flatter than hers - yes, that's right - when she's seven months pregnant with twins. Because she's a clean-living, to-the-gym-twice-a-day type of chick, she was naturally thrilled to pose for the camera. I have taken on an advisory role in relation to naming the babies, and have suggested that if they are one of each gender they should be called Sharon and Darren. Two girls should be Sharon and Karen and if they are two boys they should absolutely be named Shane and Wayne. Time will tell if she heeds my advice.

The other lass left last week to relocate to Queensland with her husband, which has gutted me the most. I plan to harass her by every means of communication, including carrier pigeon, until she comes home, but I don't hold out much hope that my pleas/stalking will do a lot of good. And who would blame her? Her new office looks out onto the beach and their apartment is just around the corner from her office (and thus, the beach). And she's getting paid more. And it's, like, sunny and stuff. And there's probably hills there, which I haven't seen for years.

So that leaves the number of truly grouse people left in the office to one. Me. The replacements that have been hired for the abovementioned stars are turning out to be tools. Reaaaaal tools. One of them is one of those people that even if you were a Buddhist, you would still want to punch them in the face repeatedly. She is just so. fucking. irritating I can't even describe it. It's pretty unbearable. Luckily, as we know, I am now in my 'cell' and don't have to look at her directly very often, but I can still hear her. Which is enough to make me angry for most of the day.

And my actual work - well back in the good old days I used to do a bit of Family law, a fair bit of Criminal law, some Employment law type work and some civil litigation. Now I only do Family law. And as each day passes, I lose faith in humanity a little more. Whilst I understand how, it must be said that the breakdown of a relationship really can bring out the worst in people. Added to that fact is that I really only have a boss for two days each week because they've not replaced the total fuck-up from last year who replaced my good boss. Part-time boss really couldn't give two shits about the work we're doing, which doesn't really sit well with me when we're dealing with you know, issues like whether our client's get to see their kids and stuff. Plus the workload has been pretty light on for a few months now PLUS there's no real Net fun during my work days so all I have to do in between writing the odd nasty letter/drafting overly dramatic trial Affidavits is arrange my monkey into amusing positions and covertly take photos on my phone and then blog them.

I have made numerous enquiries of management as to whether there is an intention to try and employ someone to replace the part-time boss who replaced the total fuck-up who replaced the good boss, but I cannot get a solid answer. The jurisdiction in which I work does not have a great deal of value placed upon it because the client base isn't necessarily the type that the firm wants to attract (seriously) and it is, I think, all a bit too hard for them. I feel like I am treading water.

So, the obvious solution is to move on, yes? Yes. However, here's the tricky part. I have exactly 13 and a half months until I become eligible for my pro-rata long service leave. If I leave now, I walk away from about 9 weeks of salary paid to me in a nice lump sum. Together with my accrued annual leave, which by my calculations if I don't have a holiday from now until April '09 will be at least another 9 weeks….you know, it's a lot of moolah. Enough moolah to move away from this shithole of a town and move somewhere far away (somewhere with hills) and perhaps think about putting together a deposit down on a little place of my own. Or go travelling overseas (which I have NEVER done - how pox). Or blow it all on a heap of drugs and strippers. Whatevs.

Is that possibility of finally having enough cash to actually open up some options to me worth the possibility of spending the next year wanting to harm myself and others just for something to do?

I actually think it might be. However, I will require strategies for coping in the interim.

* Clearly not the appropriate medical term. Or any sort of medical term, actually. But I like it.
** See *

2008-02-22T14:14:00.002+11:00

Given the lack of Internet activities now available to me at work, I have decided that I may take this 'opportunity' and develop my professional skills. After much consideration I felt that the training of new staff would be an ideal area for expansion. Good to put on the ol' CV and that.

As my little protégé is not quite up to taking in the complexities of Family Law (and the fact that I really don't know them. Complexities? Mum has kids, take dad for all he's got….that's how I roll*) we're going to start with the basics - The Telephone.

You talk into the bottom part of it, and noise comes out of the bit you logically put close to your ear. The design of the handset is amazingly perceptive and allows you to both speak AND listen without having to move the device, or yourself, at all. Incredible.

Of course, in my line of work you have to avoid speaking on the phone at all costs. Once to 'take' a call, you must look at the clock and write down the exact time. Then, for the duration of the call you must take accurate notes and later put them on the relevant file, together with a time recording of the call itself. Most complex. Thus, the two best phrases I would suggest be learned are "Please take a message" and "TELL THEM I'M NOT HERE".

"Tell the motherf*cking c&nt I'm at lunch"

Ah, the Monkey is learning. Sweet.

*Just kidding with you, obvs. I totally dig this.

2008-02-20T15:30:00.001+11:00

Here's my monkey. He sits on my top of my desk, next to my monitor. Our friendship is growing stronger and stronger each day.

*sigh*

Fuck I'm bored.

Sans Facebook update.

2008-02-20T11:59:00.000+11:00

Day 5 - Bored shitless. And I feel slightly empty, which is unspeakably pathetic.

The good news is that I should have some form of internet access at my home by the start of next week. The other good news is that my trip to the Telstra Shop only took 35 minutes. Amazing.

The unthinkable has happened.

2008-02-18T11:35:00.000+11:00

The worst possible thing that could ever happen in The World (According To Me) has actually happened.

I had heard reports in the media and even had first-hand accounts of this happening elsewhere. I feared that my time of being unaffected by this horrendous event was limited. And I was right.

My work have banned Facebook.

Oh the humanity, etc.

I am seriously gutted. Now, it appears, I shall have to spend my days actually doing work. Except of course when I am blogging (which is not yet banned). Worse, I am about to waste an entire lunchtime in the den of hell which is also known as the Telstra Shop, attempting to not only negotiate interwebs connection to my house (which I had been avoiding), but get a new mobile plan. I'll probably be back around mid-March, all going well.

It is everything I thought I wanted.

2008-02-04T14:40:00.000+11:00

An office. Of my very own. Windowless, but no offices in this building have windows, so I do not feel particularly ripped off. I have dreamed for a long, long time of not being in the firing line of the bored receptionists' chat. Of being able argue with my mother over the telephone without resorting to hissing that everyone can hear anyway. Of devoting even more of my working day to Facebooking and blogging without having to click the screen away when someone wanted to use the photocopier located behind me. Uninterrupted Scrabulous! It could not get any better.

The reality is that my office is actually a cell. It is tiny and I am a little claustrophobic. I am now jealous of the shenanigans that I can hear through the door and behind the wall. I used to instigate ALL of that noise. No-one knows, in detail, what I did on my weekend and it's after 1pm! (Admittedly, it was utterly excitement-free, but still).

Worst of all is that no-one is playing Scrabulous with me quickly enough. But still, I have an office.

2008-02-01T11:36:00.000+11:00

The 3rd annual Australia Day party was a ripper. I donned my blue singlet, made 80 vodka jelly shots and handed out temporary tattoo's of the Australian flag to each guest. Which, admittedly, is bogan but everyone loved them.

It was so good that six of us decided to do a repeat on the Sunday. Without the vodka. BUT with a pool. We finally finished up at 3.30am on the Monday and it is only today that I am finally satisfied that my brain cells have regenerated to a functioning level.

Woah.

My housemate left on Tuesday for a week long road-trip to Adelaide for the Big Day Out. To be honest it has been lovely to have the house to myself. She will be back on Monday (I think) and in her absence I plan to have my first dry weekend for a very long time. Domesticity, here I come.

2008-01-22T10:13:00.000+11:00

The nori-roll experiment was successful. It was only after we finished wolfing them down that I thought there perhaps should have been photographs taken to be produced as evidence for blogging purposes. I made them with yellow capsicum, cucumber, carrot, avocado and smoked salmon. YUM. And in spite of my fears and perhaps due to a bit more focus than I applied the last time I tried to make them (3+ years, mind) they came out nice and firm and didn't fall apart. I was pleased with myself. Score!

The 3rd annual Australia Day party is happening this weekend, so very excited! The e-mail invite reads, in part:

"At a time when the very word "Australia" sparks riots on the sub continent, fear on P&O cruise ships and hatred in sushi restaurants across Japan, we intend to provide a back yard that makes that all seem like a Wiggles concert"

Last year's party was such a cracker that to say I'm apprehensive about this one backing up would be an understatement.

Also, is it wrong to purchase a blue chesty bonds singlet to wear? IS IT?

So much to do, and so little motivation time. We have lawns to mow, vodka jelly shots to make, cocktails to mix, gas bottles to fill. We have people coming from afar and no concrete solutions for their sleeping arrangements, aside from getting everyone boozed up enough so that they simply sleep where they fall.

ALSO, Nip/Tuck is back on! Excitement! I love that show, although am a bit cross about the timeslot it has been allocated. Who can stay up til 10.30pm on a Monday eve? Well me, if I prepare myself.

/ramble.

2008-01-14T15:49:00.000+11:00

I realise that I have failed to provide an adequate update as to my date escapades prior to Christmas. By my omission you will most likely have (correctly) assumed that I am not currently in the throes of new love, but you don't know the reasons why.

And, quite frankly, either do I.

The story (in bullet points) is;

The First Date went really well. We had drinks, dinner and more drinks. I behaved myself, we got along well. He is quite shy. Conversation was easy, and unusually stimulating. He suggested teaching me how to play golf. I agreed that this would be a good idea.

Realising that it was quite close to Christmas and golf is only viable on a weekend when the weather is under 35 degrees, together with advice from various peeps that I should do such things as "gently prod" (Pomgirl) and "Get amongst it" (my friend Si), we had our second date a week later.

We met for drinks first, then went to see a film. He was more relaxed, as was I. Afterwards he walked me to my car which was rather gentlemanly, and he went in for THE PASH. It was just like the movies, and very cute. We both agreed that we wouldn't catch up again prior to Christmas as it was too busy a time however he said he would organise the golf thing. Sweet.

Christmas day I sent him a "Merry Christmas" text message. He replied in a similar manner.

Nada.

Nada.

Kymmy gets cross.

Nada.

Kymmy gets a wee bit livid.

Nada

Facebook message from him last week saying, 'Hey, long time no hear from. How was your festive season?" Turns out he is in Melbourne for a month working for his brother or some such thing. I replied in a succinct but friendly manner.

Nada.

WTF?

I don't understand what the story is and at this point in time I've sort of lost the desire to know.

All I ask is where have manners gone?

Onwards and upwards etc (but he was very nice).

2008-01-14T14:10:00.000+11:00

Does anyone remember this?

I didn't either, until it was too late. My skirt has been busted for over a year now, and instead of taking it to the dressmaker to have the zip replaced, I just folded it up and put it back in the drawer.

The zip is deceptively broken, and by that I mean it still does up, but isn't joined at the bottom so that when the slightest amount of pressure is placed upon it, it opens. And who knows how long it is open for before you notice it. Could have been prior to asking the IT dude to follow me down to the back of the office, but probably not, knowing my luck.

I am, however, thankful that;

(a) We have an emergency supply of tiny safety pins at work for such occasions;
(b) I decided against wearing the hot pink knickers when getting dressed this morning.

Does anyone have a sheltered workshop I can come and work in?

2008-01-04T11:47:00.000+11:00

It's an obligatory activity for me to make New Years Resolutions which invariably include giving up smoking, getting skank-ho skinny, not drinking coffee and saving money. Each year I tell myself that I will give up the things that constitute my life's little pleasures - eating, drinking, smoking and spending coin. So this year, I have decided to try a different tack and resolve to do things which will make me happy, instead of those which are really just too hard and will potentially turn me surly for an extended period of time. Also, there is an increased possibility of me actually achieving my goals, which would be a first, and I would be immeasurably proud.

Thus;

1. I will become an expert at making nori rolls (all helpful hints welcome).
2. I will start to learn a new language.
3. I will drink more tea of a herbal variety.

Also - will become skank-ho skinny. Somehow.

For now, that's about it.

My Christmas break was rather awesome. I am pretty much anti-Christmas but this year was good and I actually enjoyed it without having to fake it too much. I had to do the early morning wake-up and drive to my mum's place in Castlemaine at stupid o'clock. I was about 15 minutes from arriving and, to be honest, had a bit of a heavy heart about the day ahead. I lived in the Castlemaine area for a while as a youngster and I suddenly remembered how, each Christmas morning, there was a Santa who would be driven around in the back of a ute, handing out bags of lollies and icy-poles to all the local kids. I think it was something to do with the Lions Club, but I can't be sure. You could hear him ringing his bell from half a kilometre away, and you'd run out into the road in your jarmies, still high from opening your presents, with a can of beer stolen from the fridge to exchange for the half melted icy-pole and bag of lollies. It was so bloody Aussie, and an absolute highlight for me. I hadn't thought about it for years and wondered if it still happened. Lo and behold, I rounded the corner and there was Santa, in the back of his ute, clinging on with one hand and ringing his bell with the other! As we passed eachother I waved madly and grinned like an idiot. It sounds stupid, but seeing that it still happened really lifted my spirits. I collected my mum and sister, then my Grandparents, and we drove down to Melbourne to spend the day with my Aunty, Uncle and 3 genetically freaky model-like cousins. It was really nice. I stayed with mum on Christmas night and we reconnected a little. We've had a bit of a tough year, mum and I.

After Christmas there was unfortunately only one day spent watching the Test, which was far, far less than I had planned. Went camping for a few days and got the weirdest sunburn but enjoyed spending a lot of time in my special inflatable tube (complete with head-rest and can holder plus can-reserve for extra cans. It is wondrous) floating on the river. I am very much into camping right now. Lucy was a little swimming machine and the day after we got home she was limping around as though she'd just done four RPM classes in a row. I think sometimes she forgets that she's almost 56 in human years. The mind is willing but the body, etc.

Was in Melbourne for NYE, at the Belgian Beer Café swimming in my own sweat and desperately trying to replace lost fluids with the bubbly kind. We went into the city afterwards and drank more at dodgy pubs and got kebabs and a taxi home, which is apparently a miraculous event.

I am back at work now and feel as though I need a break after my break. I'm tired. The heat here is bordering on oppressive and it is confirmed that I am definitely not built for summer. Nevermind, the air-conditioning in our house is a cracker and I am so thankful for it. And otherwise I am in an office which is releasing many, many black balloons into the air….

I do hope everyone also had a lovely Christmas break. Here's to a phenomenal 2008.

Chin chin!

2007-12-13T16:24:00.000+11:00

DATE NIGHT!

Ooooh I'm nervous.

Things have been happening.

2007-12-12T15:23:00.000+11:00

Some things have made me quite happy. Others have made me devastatingly sad. And then there's the "….meh" column. Imagine a slight shrugging of shoulders and unmistakably disinterested expression when you say that. "……meh". See?

In the "Don’t want to get too excited yet" column - I have a date! Tomorrow night. I am absolutely shitting myself (NB to self - don't use expression "shitting myself" or any other such profanities on said date. He must not know how much I use swears. yet). Date! Date!

Date!

Date!

The whole date(!)ing thing really does scare the bejesus out of me though. Going out to dinner, having to sit up straight and using cutlery correctly (or at all), being very careful about how many glasses of wine are consumed, remembering to use manners. All whilst trying to suss the other person out AND, if appropriate, making a good impression! My nerves are shot just trying to think about it all.

It's all in the genes.

2007-11-12T15:25:00.000+11:00

Because it's Monday and I can't think of anything better to do on a Monday aside from avoiding the growing mountains of paper on my desk, I have just mentally compiled a list of unfavourable physical and character traits that I have inherited from both sides of my family. I am coming to the conclusion that I am pretty much a meld of the worst things my genes could have delivered.

1. Great unfeminine height - Mother's side of the family as although at 5ft 8in she is the shortest of her siblings, I have two uncles who are 6ft 3in and 6ft 4in respectively and my maternal aunt is six feet even.

2. Brick shit-house build - Dad.
3. Monkey arms - Dad.
4. Spider veins on legs - Mum.
5. Varicose veins on legs - Dad.
6. Crazy fucked up hair - Dad.
7. Greying at abnormally young age - Paternal grandfather.

8. Temper - Dad.

9. Massive norks (no longer in existence thanks to surgery) - Mum.
10. Enormous feet - Maternal side of the family.
11. Weird second toe which is longer than the first toe - Maternal side of the family.

The only good thing I can work out having inherited from my dad are my teeth, as I quite like them and consider myself quite lucky, all things considered. I'm still working out good things Mum gave me. To simplify, it appears that my Mother's side of the family are a huge lanky bunch with elongated everything, and my dad's side evolved from an angry fridge.

Your ever-faithful source of all things whingey,

Kymmy
xxxxxxx

P.S. Miss me? Course you did you little scamps.

2007-10-24T11:17:00.000+10:00

I'm booked in to see a psychic tomorrow.

I know, I know what you're thinking. She will just pitch generic predictions which could apply to everyone and then narrow it down based on my reactions….she'll give me the classic fairy stories so I leave happy and excited……whatever.

I saw a psychic for the first time about 3 and a half years ago, she came recommended from one of my most pragmatic friends and I had always wanted to go and have a reading, but was very wary of going to see some cliché in a tent. I was pleasantly surprised by how normal she was, but more importantly a lot of the things she told me were spookily accurate. I'm not going to disclose what she said or how those things have eventuated, you'll just have to take my word for it. But I will say they were specific. Very, very specific. Some of the things she told me have not eventuated, and I don't expect them to for quite a while, if at all. The only part of the reading I didn't understand was about who was looking over me because the description she gave of an old man with a huge nose and wearing brown cardi didn't ring true. Then again, only one member of my whole family (both sides) has passed since I have been alive and I honestly don't know what my family further back looked like.

Right now I have some ideas in my head and I suppose I'm looking for some outside confirmation or dissuasion as to whether I should act on them. I'm not saying that all going well I'll be blogging from a yurt in Nimbin tomorrow afternoon. I'm also not saying that if she doesn't touch on anything that I'm currently thinking of that I shall just sit back and do nothing. I guess I'm not saying anything really. Just a little bit excited.

2007-10-10T12:03:00.000+10:00

I fear that this blog is repetitive. When I try and think of things to write about, I draw from my actual real day to day life and inevitably I conclude that my actual real day to day life is as boring as shit. This morning, I awoke to Esme perched on my chest and miaowing into my face. To me that's pretty funny, but you don't know my pets and you probably don't fund that amusing. On the weekend I got stoned a lot, but I also did that the weekend prior. I met the same interesting but ultimately unsuitable men at the pub that I meet most weekends. Nothing is new. I am bored. I had a conversation last night with V over vodka cans about what we'd do if we had penises (penii?). The general conclusion was that we would just put it in anything and everything we could, mainly inanimate objects. Now that amused me, but it isn't particularly blog-worthy. You've probably had the same discussion with your friends. Unless you're a bloke reading this, and then you've possibly just done it all already.

I want to feel excited and shiny and hopeful. I want to take risks. I don't want to crash. I want the most interesting thing to happen in my day be something other than the evening meal I had.

Oh dear God.

2007-10-08T10:49:00.000+10:00

It's just gone 10.30am. I am quite convinced that I'm still a bit stoned. Okay, a lot stoned. I should not have had that last joint last night. I am usually fine the next day but clearly I have smoked too much over the weekend and it's all backed up in my system. At least, that's how I am imagining it.

I should not be at work.

Possibly until about Wednesday.

On Friday night I went to have a couple of drinks at the pub with some friends. You know, just a couple of happy hour bevvies before making my way back home to make dinner. After all, I was still in work clothes and had no make-up on.

At 2am I stumbled in the door. Angry. And quite pissed, obvs. I was angry because a bloke had struck up a conversation with me and I recall enjoying our discussion about helping disadvantaged people through our work (we had completely unrelated jobs otherwise) and how utterly righteous that was, etc (I was well into the vodka stage of the evening by then, clearly) and then he said he had to go because if he kept talking to me that "it would progress in a direction which he couldn't go". I swear to God there was no flirting or anything of that nature and besides, I HAD NO MAKE-UP ON and so I told him that what he had just said was utter rot. To which he put his hands on either side of my face and kissed me in what was not unlike something from the movies. Out of the blue.

I had no make-up on.

So then I told him that he'd just ruined everything and I got up and left. Walked home, muttering the whole way to myself about why blokes have to be ruiners of pretty much the entire world. Why was it impossible to actually have a conversation with someone that made sense and had some meaning, so far removed from all the other pissed up exchanges I'd had for the rest of the night? Why did he have to ruin that?

It's still making me cross.

I'm still bent.

And I will quite likely remove this post at some stage in the future.

Ramblings (34th edition)

2007-10-04T14:42:00.000+10:00

A colleague of mine has announced that she is pregnant. With twins! I am so thrilled for her and her Husband and I cannot wait until March, when she is booked in to have them whisked out*.
Another lovely friend of mine is due to have her second child within a year, in February. That's right, TWO UNDER ONE. She's a barrister with a delightful house-husband so she figures she might as well keep poppin' em out** whilst she can and he can stay home and look after them while she earns the bacon. Clever girl.
I think I would like a baby of my own. Not right now, obvs. But one day before, my eggs dry up.
I need to find myself a Good Bloke.
Yes, I know I'm only 26 and that there's no hurry.
I had the most delicious Thai food last night and it made me happy. There is this new restaurant that has opened up in town and it's sort of in the industrial estate, hidden away. It opens about two nights a week and has one big table so you can only go there if you have 6 or more people and it is booked out until next year. Lord knows how we got in but it was a work thing. The owner taught us how to roll little portions of sticky rice in our hands and explained each dish to us and it really was fantastic.
V's fella (The Hippy) has been spending a lot of time hanging at our house. He is cool, and Lucy has taken to him like nothing I have ever seen before. She is usually a very timid pooch (possibly the understatement of the century) and takes absolutely ages to come around to someone, if ever. She generally takes less time with short people and children because (I presume) they are smaller and therefore less threatening. And generally, men never get a look in. With the Hippy, however, she becomes very excited when he arrives and nudges him for pats and cuddles all the time. It's exciting! He is very patient with her and gives her lots of time, which she just soaks up.
I have not returned to the gym yet. I haven't been put off by soreness but rather that I am lazy and have also been occupied doing other things (see No.6).
I am enjoying living with someone else much more than I expected. We are having a lot of fun and not getting in eachother's face too much. This is a far cry from the last time I lived with someone and I would lock myself in the bathroom and have long baths to try and have a moment of my own time. But then again, V & I are not in a relationship so it's quite different.
That's ten.

*I use this term clearly having no experience and very limited knowledge of childbirth either naturally or by Caesarean Section.
** See *

Happy Birthday Esme!

2007-10-03T10:30:00.001+10:00

Es-mazing is One today.

Time flies, etc.

We may have a cake tonight made from Whiskas crunchy biscuits for kittens and cheese (her favourites), but probably not.

2007-10-02T15:52:00.000+10:00

Grand-final weekend was spent either drinking my 'good' bottles of red wine or lighting up scoobies with V and the Hippy. I still cannot believe how much we ate. There is almost nothing edible left in the house aside from dry pasta and vegemite. The hours melted away in a haze and I am left with items in the 'messages sent' folder of my phone containing such exclamations as "I am surrounded by beautiful people and animals. How good is life?" and a lounge-room that looked like Kiss camped out in it for a week.

There's an explanation for the lounge-room. V and I concocted a variation of the "Stuff On My Cat" concept. When the Hippy took a little nap on the floor we took turns in balancing various household items on his prone figure.

"Stuff On My Hippy" progressed through hairbrushes, shoes, dvd cases, tissue boxes, a chocolate biscuit on his head (which was quickly removed, and eaten), pens, crockery, cutlery, a bottle of tomato sauce and was topped off with the cats' scratching pole before he stirred. Ruiner.

Nonetheless, it was a fun game for a while. Could have lasted 20 minutes but could also have lasted a number of hours. Who is to know?

And now I'm stuck at my desk and it's twenty-something degrees outside and this makes me a little sad. I'm shuffling papers from one side to another, completely uninspired.

I did it!

2007-09-27T10:11:00.001+10:00

I went to the gym last night. Am very proud of myself. I actually went when I said I would, and I huffed and puffed and sweated and bumped into things for over an hour.

Of some concern, I am not very sore today. Which either means that;

(a) I am much, much fitter than I imagined.
(b) I really didn't push myself enough.

I'm opting for the latter.

When we got home I then cooked a fettuccine carbonara which was sensational, if I do say so myself. I even made it with low-fat evaporated milk instead of cream and cut all the fat from the bacon and we couldn't taste the difference.

Good times.

Ramblings*

2007-09-26T14:12:00.000+10:00

Last night I actually went to the cinema! I hardly ever do this. In fact, the last time I went to the cinema was to see 'The Departed', last year. Crazy. Anywho, we saw 'Superbad' which was essentially 90 minutes of dick jokes, but it was light-hearted and I liked it a bit. Next week - 'Hairspray'. The evening was infinitely more enjoyable because not only was it Tight-Arse Tuesday at the cinema, but there were half price meals at the pub. I had a chicken parma as big as my head for $9.00. SWEET.

The animals are still settling in. Sort of. There is still a lot of hissing and snorting (snorting! I am serious. It's only Agnes who does this and it's hilarious) but no actual fighting as far as I have witnessed. It has now been a week and a half and I am still holding out that they will be able to cohabit in some sort of peace. One day.

I am re-entering the world of the gym tonight, FOR REALS. I have been saying this for such a long time but I actually purchased a pass a couple of weeks ago - twenty visits for the price of ten (there's a half-price theme running here) and I haven't yet actually made it. But I am going to tonight.

*Promises self*

I have also been having anxious dreams lately about old school friends. People I haven't seen in real life for 9 years. I blame Facebook. And V's upcoming school reunion. Last night's nocturnal episode involved me attending a concert. As I was walking into the stadium I saw two guys who I used to be friends with back in the day, sitting on a bench. I walked up and introduced myself and one of them gave me a hug and said "You're pretty now!". That was the end of the dream. Tres fucked up.

*At the request of the lovely Jen.

One perfect day

2007-09-20T11:44:00.000+10:00

I just ate the most perfect Pink Lady apple.

It was crisp. Unblemished. Just the right mix of sweet and tart.

God knows why this has tickled my fancy just so, but it has.

And no, I didn't get laid last night. Or take drugs.

No, I don't know either.

Settlin' in

2007-09-17T14:38:00.001+10:00

We are now a house of six, with a LOT more furniture than I'd ever anticipated. This is good. The addition of a big bookcase and a carved chest and paintings on every possible wall-space amongst other items makes the house more homely, and my new housemate (hereinafter referred to as "V") has cooked beautiful meals whilst I have languished on the couch and I can foresee this being a very happy time indeed.

The only hiccup thus far is V's cat, Cecil. He is a big lopey 'intact' male, about a month younger than my Esme (so, about 10 months old) but twice her size. He reminds me of a teenage boy not yet grown into his body, he is all limbs and unsure of how to co-ordinate himself. There is a lot of tension between my girls and the Intruder. Much hissing and yowling and being backed into corners from all parties concerned and whilst there has been little actual scragging, the whole thing is not doing a lot of good for the nerves. Luckily any potential situations thus far have been diffused by Lucy 'the bouncer' intervening. She always has looked after her little mates and over the weekend came to the rescue several times. Cecil has quickly realised he is no match for the Really Big One and backs away.

I do hope they expedite the learning to be friends process but never having had boy animals before, I'm not sure how to help things along. I think Cecil requires a trip to the vet for him to be less 'intact' but of course, not being my pet, I can't decide this. V has proposed that Esme has man issues given the events of late and perhaps this is true also.

Tip for the day

2007-09-12T17:25:00.001+10:00

If you want to get over someone, have really mediocre sex with them.

Works like a charm.

Just sayin'.

Home Sweet Home

2007-09-12T11:24:00.000+10:00

A friend is moving in to my house this weekend. She is a good friend, I like hanging out with her and we do hang out a lot together in any event. However, having not lived with anyone since the Pom days, I am a teensy bit apprehensive.

I quite enjoy living by myself. Hold on, that's an understatement. I LOVE living by myself. I love coming home after work and laying on the couch in my underpants watching Deal or No Deal. I enjoy getting up early in the morning and schlepping around in my noisy slippers (which say "You" on one and "Wish" on the other, in gold letters against hot pink velvet. Mmmm, sexeh), vacuuming at odd hours, singing along heartily to whichever tunes I feel like playing and spots of sporadic dancing* when I've got my MP3 player stuck in my ears. I sometimes refuse to wash dishes until I have run out of little spoons and I pile my ironing up on a spare armchair for months on end (which can actually be a good thing because when I actually get around to doing the ironing it's like discovering I have a whole new wardrobe).

On the upside;

1. I will be saving money on rent and bills.
2. I will have someone to talk to aside from my fur-kids.
3. I will have someone to drink with whenever I feel like it.
4. She is the same shoe size as me = double available shoe selection.
5. I will have someone to wash the little spoons when I don't.

I actually think it will be quite good.

*A subjective description.

2007-09-06T10:16:00.000+10:00

Last night I assaulted a Police Officer.

I got her good, too.

Okay, so it was in the course of a netball game.

And it was quite accidental.

And, I apologised profusely afterwards.

I don't feel quite so rock anymore.

Sigh.

2007-09-04T08:06:00.000+10:00

Someone hit this here blog looking to know 'how to pronounce pergola'.

Kymmy-pedia, this place is.

I'm so proud.

In not-so-breaking-news

2007-08-29T10:30:00.000+10:00

I am such a bad mother.

Last week I came perilously close to becoming a grandma. I had booked Esme in to the vet to be de-sexed, vaccinated and microchipped as about a month ago she came on heat and I realised that she was 9 months old and well overdue for all of the above procedures. I've never owned a cat when they are on heat before, and it's really quite freaky. She spent a good few days yowling, purring, rubbing herself on everything in the house and generally bringing sexy back like a fiend. Then she spent 3 weeks inside until I could get her to the vet, which she hated.

So on the day she wasn't allowed to have breakfast which, for the little piggy-cat that she is, was torture. So by the time I actually got her to the vet she was mighty cranky, having spent the last 2 hours following me around biting my feet and demanding that I feed her. When the receptionist went to take her away in her carry-cage she asked if I wanted to give her a goodbye cuddle, I declined, citing that she was hungry and angry and would just probably scratch me.

I went to pick her up after work and the receptionist bought her out in her cage and she was all wide-eyed and clearly confused about the whole situation. The invoice was drawn up and the receptionist asked with a raised eyebrow "Did you know that she was pregnant?".

.

.
.
.
.

I just about died.

Here I was thinking the sooking and the affection towards inanimate objects and even the sudden penchant for forcing open the linen cupboard and sleeping amongst the sheets was just part of her being on heat. Now I realise she was getting ready to become a mum.

Not that the whole ordeal seems to have affected her in any way. She has a neat little scar (stitches still intact until early next week) and is recovering well. She's extremely pleased to be allowed outside again so you know, that's good.

I played netball as usual with my Monday night team o' nerds. I started out playing Keeper until the end of the first quarter when the shooter asked me to swap positions with her as her opponent was a "bit too rough". Admittedly my team-mate is a slight wee thing so I gladly obliged (plus I much, much prefer playing shooter as I am a glory hunter on the inside). About 3 minutes into the second quarter I went to catch a pass and the woman I was playing on tried to smack the ball away before I could catch it. All she really succeeded in doing was to push my hand over and cause the ball to hit the end of my middle finger at full pelt. Jesus fucking ouch. Subsequently I now have a slightly purple sausage in place of a finger. The general consensus at work is that it is perhaps broken but I'm convinced it's simply a bad jarring and will come good in time. Meanwhile, I am having difficulty remembering not to use it and only remember when it's too late. It makes me a little sad because my fingers are the skinniest part of me and now that's partially ruined.

I met a lovely (and totally hot) bloke on Friday night who turned out to be a musician and offered to 'comp me' for the gig he was doing on Saturday night, which was the reason he was visiting my fair town. The Friday night turned quite ugly and he ended up sleeping on my loungeroom floor after an impromptu party that came about after the group of friends I was with got cross with the quality of venues available at 3am. A decision was made to instead bicker over what was played on the stereo and dance like crazies and drink muchos red wine which we all know only ends in tears (of happiness) after an evening of vodka. Surprisingly, the following day he still called and came good with the tickets and my mate V and I went along and were completely blown away by his talent. Completely. I don’t want to say too much about the gig as it isn't very cool but his skills were amazing. Which in turn, pathetically, made him even more attractive. At one stage V turned and said to me "If he can do that with a guitar, just imagine….". When he came over to my house later that night it all progressed in a lovely but predictable manner. Of course the following day he was flying out overseas to continue on the tour and I shall never hear from him again but it made me happy until about lunchtime on Monday when I got all morose about the prospect of never meeting someone so hot and delightful and talented again.

I have also started the same phase I go through every year once the sun starts shining which is the "Ohmigod summer is almost here and I'm feeling really fat and pasty best hurt myself with a lot of exercise all at once" stage. Why do I do this every year? It never works. Summer comes and I still get cross at the fact that I've wasted the previous 8 months on the couch and now I have to wear singlet tops and my arms are really flabby.

Boo.

Omengoodness

2007-08-22T14:45:00.000+10:00

The other day I was lent the book "The Alchemist" by a friend who had just finished reading it and proclaimed that I could not possibly go on without discovering the Secrets Of The World And Other Such Information immediately. I trust her, so I read it. I finished it last night in fact. Without recounting the entire novel, I will just say that there is a fair focus on the concept of Omens, and a suggestion that one should perhaps take heed of little signs the Universe might send ones way. That's what happens to the main character in the novel and he ends up with shitloads of treasure AND complete personal enlightenment. Sweet.

So as I put the book down, turned off the lamp and tried to go to sleep, I told myself that I would try to take notice of little things that happen in my daily life from now on, and see whether they potentially hold more meaning than they currently do and perhaps lead me to some sweetass gold. I mean, enlightenment. At the conclusion of this little thought-session with myself, I also made the same promise that I have been making for the past month - that I would get up early in the morning and instead of sitting bleary-eyed on my couch in my dressing gown wishing I could take my coffee through an IV line as opposed to a pesky cup which requires too much effort and grimacing at Mel and Kochie until the last possible moment before I HAVE to get ready for work, I would take the dog for a walk instead.

This morning when I woke up I lay listening to the radio for a while and came to the conclusion that I would again probably not be bothered to get out of bed and walk Lucy because when it comes down to it I am really quite lazy and she has a massive backyard to run around in anyway (I am the QUEEN of procrastination justification). At 6.20am the daily horoscopes came on and I keenly tuned in because one time the star-lady said that I would "have to show them who was boss" which I believed gave me a license to pick a fight with everyone who crossed my path that day. This morning, however, I was advised to make sure I "spend some one-on-one time with a beloved family member".

Yes, I got up and walked the dog.

And it was great! The sun was coming up, the river was peaceful and Lucy had a ball sniffing and weeing and prancing about like the utter delight that she is.

I have a feeling that perhaps the Universe started me off easily by taking the interpretation of omens out of my hands and just slapping me in the face with them instead. Sort of like a remedial omen reading.

Now just waiting for the treasure.

2007-08-15T12:51:00.000+10:00

I am sick. Not quite sick enough to languish in bed surrounded by tissues and wishing I could just die, but just enough to annoy my colleagues with a hacking cough and a nasal diction and look pathetic with my watering eyes. I'm sure they are secretly wishing I would just go home so they don't have to listen to me protest that I'm fine.

I am taking Codral and Echinacea and multivitamins and drinking fresh juice and eating fresh fruits and trying desperately to get better before the weekend. A friend from Perth is visiting and we have plans to engage in a session of hard drinking on Friday. I have even booked the day off work. I do not want to be snuffly and contagious at this time.

Otherwise, things are good. Am still spending way too much time farting around on Facebook. I was invited to join a Blog-Friends group by the lovely BEVIS and then realised I couldn't do so without revealing by blog to those-I-know-in-real-life-and-on-Facebook. Which I don't want to do. Boooo. Does anyone have a solution to this slight conundrum?

So here's the deal-io.

2007-08-06T15:39:00.000+10:00

Facebook is taking up a lot of my time. Time that should be reserved for other things. Like work. And blogging. Thank goodness I don't have the interwebs at home or I would never leave the house. As I don't have the interwebs in my home I have been doing a lot of going out "on the turps" as they say. It's getting silly. We drink, we dance, we are completely moronic, and it's heaps of fun. I have re-learned how to make sleepy eyes at boys who range from delightfully beautiful to "don't touch that with a plastic one" and more often than not they then kiss me, such is the influence of bucketfuls of vodka.

But it is all good.

I am playing my last game of netball for one team tonight, for a while at least. It is our grandfinal. Wish us luck.

I have two games left for my other team, and I will be glad to finish that as well. I need to give netball a wee rest for a bit. I need to get back into the gym. I need to swap gyms. Again.

I saw Josh Pyke play the other week - is he not the most delightful young scruff? Before the gig I was standing upstairs in the designated smoking area of the tiny venue we were at, waiting for my friend to return from her ablutions. The man himself came up the stairs and was about to head straight into the women's toilets and I directed him to the right place. Such a good citizen. He looked embarrassed and made a wincey face. I laughed. He played in front of about 60 people and it was utterly lovely.

I need to do my tax. I need to attack my garden with high-powered machinery. I need to ring my Gran.

So many things I need to do. But all I want to do is play Scrabulous.

2007-08-02T16:15:00.000+10:00

Ohmygoodnesscan'tblogtoobusybeingobsessedwithfacebook

The dizzying heights of my life as a complete moron.

2007-07-20T14:37:00.001+10:00

I woke up with a bit of a scratchy throat this morning, which has rapidly escalated into biting pain, just on the left side. I said to a colleague "I wonder if I can see my tonsil and see if it's icky", because I am a bit of a grot at the best of times. I pulled out my hand mirror, opened my mouth and took a peak. Yes! It was most definitely gross. Yellow. And swollen. I couldn't see it very well , so I tentatively poked my finger in my mouth to see if I could touch it.

I clean forgot about the gag reflex until it was almost too late.

2007-07-16T11:19:00.000+10:00

The new house is good. No, it's great. The girls and I are settling in, fighting for space in front of the actually-functioning-warmth-producing-heater. I am burning candles and incense like a crazed hippie to try and make the place smell like my own. I have found that it doesn't matter who was living in a house before you, it always smells like 6 nannas and a couple of pops when you move in. I still haven't unpacked everything properly, but will get there. It is amazing how much better your furniture looks when it's against a neutral background, as opposed to crazily patterned carpet from the 1950's.

I had to spend two days last week in Melbourne, learning. It wasn't particularly fun. What was fun was sneaking off to meet with mates in the evening, legitimately drinking ciders on the street (I'm really not adjusting to the no-smoking laws). We got completely mangled in just over 3 hours, which was a fair effort in the circumstances. I then slinked back to the firm's apartment and tried to act straight whilst dropping bits of dressing-covered lettuce from my burger all over my black coat. Classy.

Each time I go into the CBD, I fall back in love with Melbourne a little bit more. The narrow streets and the grime and the noise and the eclectic wonder of everything. Yes, that sounds bumpkin.

I am bumpkin.

On a more personal, let's share everything with the internerd type of note, I finally gave up on my 'it's my body, you can't touch it' campaign of too many months to mention, on the weekend. I'd forgotten how it felt. I'd actually forgotten how it felt. How bizarre. The old riding a bike adage applies, however.

I am tired, disorganised and desperately sick of work. The man who I am supposed to have my babies with* is leaving town and I am quietly devastated. I need me some time off to sleep and regroup and get happy and iron my clothes.

*According to a psychic, some moons ago. Also independently confirmed by my mother, who is never wrong in these things.

2007-07-09T12:07:00.000+10:00

I am moved!

My new house is lovely. And warm.

I am so exhausted I can barely string a sentence together.

Will. Blog. Later.

Agghdhdhsoaidsjn d

Been slack with the blogging/Am back with the blogging.

2007-07-02T10:50:00.000+10:00

Not that things haven't been happening, oh noooooo, just that I haven't blogged about them. Something about getting a call out of the blue from my ex who was up-to-date in all of my goings on despite us not having spoken in some six months….slightly disconcerting. But I don't want to be put off because I like this here blog. Also I am a narcissist and enjoy rambling about myself.

Moving at the end of this week - hurrah! I cannot tell you how excited/ fearful I am of moving house. I like the idea of having a new space to live in and to make my own, with just my very own memories to colour it. But it's the details of moving, all of the things I am convinced I will forget to do, and the packing and unpacking…if only I could cross my arms and blink in some I dream of Jeannie type of manoeuvre. Yeah, that would be good.

Cute boy of a few weeks ago who I kissed turned out to be a bit of a weirdo/knob. Never mind, found another cute boy to kiss the following week. How great is drunken pashing? It makes me feel young.

Agnes caught me another rat on the weekend. It did not appear to be on steroids as the last one was, but it was big and dead nonetheless. And she barged into the toilet to snook around my feet and purr and let me know that she was pretty bloody pleased with herself. Clever girl she is.

I have taught Lucy how to 'High Five', initially causing her much confusion as the hand signal for 'High Five' is the same as the one I used to use for 'Sit'. She has worked it out now however and patiently indulges me as I still find it amusing.

Esme is still a bit dumb.

Had an overdue haircut last week which has transformed my mop into a sleek curtain of shiny goodness. My miracle worker of a hairdresser took a lot of hair off/out, and I amused myself by collecting the bits that fell on me into a pile on my lap, happily telling him how I could make a wig, before realising that I was very close to compiling a mirkin over the top of the cape. I quietly brushed it to the floor and said nothing else. I am in love with my new hair, as I always am when I get it 'done', except this time there is a flippy bit that is falling over my eyes and causing me to get cross from time to time.

We had our staff reviews last week and mine took one hour which could have been summarised simply by saying "Hey, we love you and we love your work, just not enough to give you a decent pay-rise". I drank heavily on Friday night and once again am having a crisis about wtf I am doing. Not a baaaaad crisis though. I have rediscovered drinking and socialising and that takes the edge off somewhat.

Cardboard box be damned…..

2007-06-19T13:08:00.001+10:00

I gotstme a house, people. Move in 3 weeks. Best of all, it's heated, so I won't have to spend my evenings looking like I'm about to hit the slopes and entertaining myself by watching my breath in the air.

Lets do a recap. In the last week I have;

Lost 2.7kgs - Check.

Avoided homelessness - Check.

Pashed a very cute boy - Check.

Got approached by another firm (with an inadequate offer, but nonetheless, it's flattering) - Check.

The world's coming up Kymmy.

Still got it - such a relief.

2007-06-18T11:05:00.000+10:00

Decided to get out of my doldrums on Friday night and went out on the booze with some long-neglected friends.

So much fun! I'd forgotten that letting my hair down is actually enjoyable. And talking to those with only two legs instead of four is interesting, even if they do talk back (minor inconvenience). Dancing is fun too, busting the moves recently reserved for my lounge-room, laughing at yourself with friends at being the oldest people in the club when we're only in our mid-twenties.

I'd also forgotten the loveliness of meeting new boys, having them chivalrously walk you home and kiss you (lots) and leave your knees trembling while standing on the crunchy frost of your front lawn, wondering if the churning feeling in your belly is from too much champagne or simply lust.

Sweet.

2007-06-08T12:26:00.000+10:00

Entirely indicative of how I feel today.

I'm craving a trip to the pub. This is a bit weird. I don't think I'm craving drink as much as I'm craving some social interaction. With people I don't work with. And perhaps some booty. Not sure. It's been a while and I'm not sure I've still got the madskillz (or gumption) to do a random pickup. Sometimes I think back to my early twenties and wonder how the fuck I used to do that. No fear, just a gut full of piss and a set of majorly impressive cans.

I am still trying to find a new house to live in. I know it will happen but I just want something to come up quickly which isn't in the ghetto. For those not in the know, that requirement precludes about 85% of the town that I live in.

It will happen.

It will happen.

Blogger is being a cock

2007-06-06T12:10:00.001+10:00

It won't let me put all my links up.

I am about this far* away from throwing a tantrum, but then I would bring attention to the fact that I am not working very hard at the moment.

*not very far

2007-06-06T10:58:00.001+10:00

Have just taken delivery of a new top for the work netball team I've agreed to play on. It's black with the company logo embroidered on the left cap sleeve.

Perfect shirt - if we were going to the pub to have beers and pick up dodgy men.

Not so good for huffing around a netball court. It's v-necked and frigging tight. And I mean 'is it cold in here?' tight. Tight.

Not so sure this is the sort of image the firm wants to put forward. Not sure I want to be sharing such personal info about my bazoongas with my workmates either.

Hmmmmm.

I lied

2007-06-05T14:17:00.000+10:00

Okay, this is the final one.

2007-06-05T14:16:00.000+10:00

2007-06-05T14:15:00.000+10:00

2007-06-05T14:12:00.000+10:00

2007-06-05T14:04:00.000+10:00

I'm sorry

2007-06-05T13:58:00.000+10:00

I have spent the last tiny bit of time looking at lolcat pictures.

Fuck me dead, that shit is FUNNY. I know, I'm a bit behind the other kids.

Indulge me while I get this out of my system and stop doing happy wee from my eyes.

2007-06-05T13:57:00.000+10:00

2007-06-05T13:40:00.000+10:00

Things I did on my weekend (not in chronological order)

2007-06-04T13:51:00.000+10:00

Buggered up opening a nice bottle of red which I had been saving then strained the cork remnants through a (new) pair of stockings, avoiding the gusset part on principle, as I dislike the word 'gusset' immensely. Drank the wine.

Spent over an hour doing the BIG suduko from the Good Weekend, almost nearing the end before realising I had somewhere, somehow, despite being so careful and concentrating (not my strong point) fucked it up a bit. I screamed "I CAN'T PUT A FUCKING EIGHT THERE" to myself/The Age, threw the whole thing across the room and stomped outside to have a cigarette.

Pissed the cats off by constantly picking them up and arranging them in my arms like a baby, then refusing to put them down when they were squirming. They both hate being held like babies, and this only motivates me further.

Hung some clothes over the treadmill to finish drying. Avoided actually getting on the treadmill to do this, as if I actually got on it, I would then feel guilty about not using it (as an exercise machine).

Spent an inordinate amount of time in bed as this is the warmest part of the house.

Did a lot of lawn-edging. Without a motorised contraption to assist. Still not finished as the lawns are monstrous and my arms were getting sore.

Sent and received cheeky late night texts.

Made poached eggs and toast on more than two occasions.

Read the careers section in the paper on both days and lamented at how much more I could be getting paid.

Watched "The Rage in Placid Lake" and got annoyed with Ben Lee's speaking voice.

Watched "Biglove" and was happy that I'd found something good to watch on Sunday nights.

2007-06-01T11:17:00.000+10:00

Right now, our office has descended into a forced silence. Someone, unknown to us, is sitting an exam, supervised by one of the lawyers in the office. So from 10am til 1pm we have to be veeeewy quiiiiieett…..

I'm not coping.

2007-05-29T15:17:00.001+10:00

My mum tells the story of when I was little, and my parents were still together (so pre-4 years old) when I was playing in the red-dirt backyard of our Port Headland home. Mum and Dad were in the kitchen and they looked outside through the window to see me singing earnestly into the electrics plug of our trailer, putting on my own 'concert' to an imaginary audience. For the record, it was Stevie Wonder's "I just called to say to I love you". I don't recall this specifically, but as I have dramatic tendencies and love an audience in my adult life, I don't find it hard to believe.

I am technically an only child and had to find ways to entertain myself throughout my early childhood, until the first of the plethora of half-siblings were born, when I was nine years old. I do recall putting on a lot of 'cooking shows' to my audience of one (a black Labrador called Zoe, who would sit patiently and watch as I 'created' dishes comprising of grass, sticks and mud) and I always dreamed of having loads of tiny glass bowls when I was grown up and cooking real things. You know how on real cooking shows all of the ingredients are lined up in little glass bowls just ready to be added to the mix? In truth, I would still like a set of little glass bowls, and I vow to purchase them one day. Also, embarrassingly, sometimes when I am cooking (by myself) I will still commentate as though I have my own show, explaining to the audience about the importance of creaming butter and sugar properly. I'm sure Lucy finds it informative….

So there's my revelation for the day. Was anyone else particularly weird as a child?

Agnes has stopped doing The Trick.

2007-05-29T10:16:00.000+10:00

I am quite disappointed, naturally, however I can sort of understand why. She is not one to want to please me, being a cat, she just wants to please herself. And me being so pleased with her, this is motivation enough for her to stop doing The Trick. She knows she can do it, I know she can do it, and now she doesn't have to prove herself so she won't do it. No matter how much I follow her around, tapping my collarbone and whining "Come on Ag, hop up! Hop up Ag! AGGGG HOP THE FUCK UP". She just lifts her tail in the air in recognition that I am speaking to her, then sits down and cleans her bottom in that special way that only cats do, with a leg flung carelessly in the air. I'm sure she is trying to give me a message.

In other news, my nose has stopped behaving like a Mount Vesuvius of mucus, which is nice.

It's balancing out

2007-05-26T11:01:00.000+10:00

Bad News - I have a cold of epic snot-filled proportions.

Good news - I have taught Agnes to jump into my arms! I have always wanted to have a cat who can do things, a bit like a dog but without the demandingness. And now I have one. So not only can she catch huge rats and open all internal doors, she can now jump into my arms on command. And I am tall, so this feat is even more impressive*

As you were.

*to me

Yesterday....

2007-05-23T09:52:00.000+10:00

After a long, long, frustrating day being an observer/quasi instructor in Court I saw my first ever client being handcuffed and led away to the Big House by Police. In my time, only 2 clients have ever 'gone down', which, out of hundreds of matters, is a pretty good record, really. And both those times each client was 98% certain that they should pack a toothbrush. Both those times I was safely sat at my desk and my boss came back and reported the result and we made jokes of wrongness about Vaseline*. But yesterday, when the Magistrate handed down the sentence and the Police swiftly moved over to my client, who was standing in front of me, and he reached into his pocket and handed me his squashed packet of cigarettes before resigning to putting his hands behind his back and allowing the copper to click on those cuffs, his girlfriend behind me crying in loud, gulping sobs, I didn't feel very good about it at all.

The wheels of justice keep on turning. Or something. It was fucked.

And it was my birthday.

So the girls at work took me out to the pub and bought me champagne and I drank a bit and then when I got home I poured myself a glass of red wine and smoked cigarettes in my lounge-room. I never smoke in my house, but I thought fuck it. And I took calls from the small number of friends and family who remembered it was my birthday and I appreciated every minute of talking to them and their warm wishes and that they cared enough to pick up the phone. I talked to my Gran for a long time and cried to her for the first time ever and then felt awful for making her upset too. And I put a blanket down on the couch and let Lucy curl up with me and I drank my wine and smoked my cigarettes and felt sad for feeling so hopeless.

Another year gone. Ugghhh.

So, I have resolved, at some stage in the very very near future, to pull my head out of my arse and do my utmost to make good things happen in my life so I never again have to sit on my own, on my birthday, and feel so shit.

*don't judge us, it's a coping mechanism.

'Cos she is Esme-zing....

2007-05-16T11:00:00.000+10:00

Say Whiskas Minced Chicken in Gravy...

Doesn't she just look so.....happy? My animals are so used to my paparazzi-type antics that usually as soon as I get my camera out of the case they shut their eyes against the impending flash, so this photo is special, if only because Esme is so obviously cross about being manhandled again.

Contented cat

An update on my downward spiral to a living in a cardboard box

2007-05-14T09:05:00.000+10:00

I got a call last week from the property manager at the estate agents saying that the landlord (agent) had reconsidered and decided that I could stay, given that I am (usually) such a good tenant. I declined, explaining that I felt very uncomfortable about the fact that he had come into my house without telling me. I confirmed with her that my reference would be fine, and said I would be in touch when I found a new property. She was very good about it. I felt quite strong after that, but wondered if I'd made the right decision. I think I have. I think if I stay here I would feel like I was being monitored, or feeling as though I owed him for his 'reconsideration'. I mean, what if I had a stray weed in the garden bed, would that be enough for the next time he wanted to crack the shits and tell me I have to leave?

So, the next weird thing I did was wait until after work and then went and had a talk to the partner. I actually tried to resign, explaining what was happening and that the only funds available to me at the moment is the ludicrous amount of annual leave I have banked up. He refused to accept my resignation and promised he would 'sort it out' for me. He offered to deal with the agent if I wanted him to, to which I said that I appreciated the sentiment but that I was a big girl and could fight my own battles. He went on a lot about how they think I'm a star and how much they value me which I said was nice but praise doesn't pay my bills. He indicated a salary review. I think it's all a load of shit.

I'm now in the process of trying to find somewhere to live which a. isn't in the ghetto, b. will allow me to keep my 'girls' and c. won't send me broke. Talk about a challenge. At least, hopefully, I will soon have a functioning heater, as my house is nine parts fucking freezing at the moment due to my heater not working/landlord not caring about fixing it.