Lucky Coins

On Saturday I melted this 5c piece to the ice that was forming on the taps at The Local.

By Sunday it had a thick glassy sheen of ice over it (and its two friends that I had also added after taking the photo). I suppose it is wrong that this was what I was most proud of myself for over the weekend.

Last night (early this morning?) I woke sobbing after having a terrible dream. The Boyfriend found it very hard to understand why I was so cranky with him. After all, I suppose it was all only in my dream that we went on a road trip to meet up with his other girlfriend and he couldn’t understand why I was so upset. (That’s the short version – in reality it was a very long and complicated story and involved a vast array of characters.) Odd how dreams can seem SOOO real! I blame the Steak, Mushroom, Guinness and Oyster Pie I made for dinner. (Or perhaps I just wanted to show off about they yummy dinner I made last night.)

Toilets and Teeth

Work has been keeping me pretty busy lately. At least I am finally starting to feel like I can do the job. You know I can always still make time for popping in to The Local. Last night I put my footy tips in on the way home. Someone’s been drinking in the toilet again. Weird. Who does that? Then again, I suppose, who takes photos of toilets with drinks left on them with their bad mobile phone camera.

I suppose it’s no worse than the photo I took on the mobile phone last weekend at The Local. One of the local boys was worried someone would take his beer. So he put his false teeth in his glass. Mmmm, tasty.

Lick This!

Yesterday, I smelt something odd on my hand. I sniffed it and couldn’t identify what it was. It smelt sort of citrus like, but in a medicinal way. I licked the back of my hand, and still couldn’t identify what it was, so I washed my hands. Then I got a drink of water, because whatever it was it tasted feral.

Today I was dropping some papers off to the big boss and onthe way, used some of the anti bacterial hand gel that’s been put up throughout the building since the great Swine Flu Fever hit. It suddenly occurred to me – aHA – that’s what had been on my hand yesterday!

And then it suddenly occurred to me – who licks their hand when there’s something unidentified on it? Only me.

Too Few and Too Many

The last two weekends have been a complete contrast. One was filled with nothing. The next was filled with people, some of whom I could have done without!

The weekend before last, The Boyfriend went to Melbourne for the weekend to watch an AFL game. I decided it was a good weekend to go and visit my girlfriend and her two kids. Unfortunately, I left my call until too late and when I called to arrange it, she already had plans. I made alternate plans to keep myself busy and they fell through as well. It was a pretty lonely weekend, and I was a bit at a loss for things to do and people to talk to. It was a long weekend, and it felt like a wasted one.

Last weekend, I went away for a few days with The Boyfriend. He brought a couple of mates with him, as the weekend was in celebration of The Boyfriend’s birthday. (It was a big one. I won’t give the number away, but it started with a 4 and ended with an 0. And no, he’s not 400 years old.) The contrast to our usual weekends away, with just the two of us, was remarkable.

One of the guys who came along for the trip loved the house (we stayed at my parent’s beach house) and he spent lots of time poking around, taking photos and exploring the nearby beach. Some of the poking around got a little hard to take, for example when he broke the garage roller door, but in general it was ok – in other words, he fixed it before we left. I’d take him away again, he was cheerful and pleasant to have around.

The other of Boyfriend’s friends? I actually would really like to slap him across the face. On the first day away, he went for a walk for an hour. 5 hours later we picked him up from a nearby pub after ringing to find out where he was. That night when we all went out for dinner at a nearby club, he didn’t eat, but walked away from the group to play pokies on his own. The next day, he was nowhere to be found when lunch was being served (he was later found sitting outside the front gate – what the?). Then after dinner that night, he just got up and went to bed – no goodnight. And in the two times I’ve seen him since the weekend? He’s insulted me and said I was rude on the weekend. That slap sounds pretty tough to resist. I can’t promise not to at least throw a drink on him if I run in to him over this next weekend.

Pig Out

I think I must have swine flu. Why? Because I ate like an absolute pig yesterday. Perhaps it’s related less to swine flu though and more to having stayed out too late the night before drinking beer and watching the State of Origin match at The Local.

I have a habit of eating my way out of a hangover, but I did outdo myself yesterday. I had the following:

• Junior Whopper burger with cheese
• Toast with cheese spread
• Home made steak and mushroom pie
• 1 Jam filled Krispy Kreme doughnut
• 2 Original Glazed Krispy Kreme doughnuts. One of which I bought for another girl at work but found I ate it before I had a chance to give it to her.
• Cheese and crackers
• Garlic bread
• Large-ish bowl of pasta

Yes, I know you all think I am a pig now, but there was no way I was leaving a post up about my poor underwear choices over the long weekend, was there!

Undies are Evil

On the weekend, I went to a wedding. Since it’s important for all women to be uncomfortable at these events, I wore a dress and strappy high heels.

A few days before the wedding I tried on the dress I planned to wear and asked The Boyfriend if it looked ok. He looked me over and said “You know what comes to mind when I see you in that dress?” I waited eagerly for his next statement. “A schoolma’am”.

So I wore a different dress. And, because I wasn’t a fan of the belly bulge that was a little too obvious under that dress, I bought a pair of old lady fat-holder-inner undergarments to wear underneath. I was talking to a girlfriend before I left, and told her I wasn’t sure how much fat they could be holding in, and perhaps I bought a size too big, because they felt too comfortable. We even joked about perhaps I had no fat to hold in. Oh I should never have mocked the fat-holder-inner-undergarments.

The wedding started at 1:30. By 1:22, I was texting the same friend with “Wedding has not yet started and I am already starting to rethink the fat holder inner undies and wondering if I can take them off in the loo”. Yeah, those things are evil, man.

Added Bonus!

After a mad day at work, today at around 3pm I realised why I felt so hungry – I hadn’t stopped for lunch. With the madness yet to subside, I decided to go to the bottom drawer of my cupboard, which holds my emergency supplies, and go the quick 2 minute noodle option.

Upon grabbing the packet, it felt slightly bulgier than usual, and closer inspection revealed a pleasant surprise – bonus vegetable packet inside.  When I opened the packet, here was my surprise.

Yeah, 5 peas and some tiny red things of dubious vegetable origin. Wow. How overwhelmingly generous. Since I don’t like peas and the red things looked like pieces of plastic, I tipped the veggies out and went with the standard. My only other surprise was that instead of the radiation look, my phone seems to have decided on a green tinge today. Seems somewhat appropriate.

Also Known As?

A while ago I went to my 20 year High School Reunion. Interesting, but eh. I had the same in common with most of them that I did at school, which was not an awful lot, except for one friend who I talk to all the time anyway so I didn’t need some kind of organised reunion to talk to her, I could have just had her over for dinner.

Recently I was contacted by my cousin, who said she had a student teacher who I used to know at another school – we moved from the country back to the city as I went into year 10 of high school so I went to more than 1 high school. Apparently I was one of the ‘listed as missing’ people for that school’s reunion later this year, and her student upon finding out the link, asked for my email address. After having some curious thoughts on how my name came up in a conversation (have I a new stalker?), I agreed and had a rather hillarious catch up email session with an old friend from school. So I have RSVP’d and agreed to go to the school reunion. After all, it’s not till October, and that’s heaps of time to lose 20kg, get a great haircut and new wardrobe, land that dream job and win lotto.

Several of the old school friends are on Facebook. I don’t do Facebook. I do not want my employer to know what I get up to after work, or my mum for that matter, and I’m sure I’d stuff the privacy settings so that would happen. The suggestion is to sign up under a pseudonym. One of the other guys from school has a rather amusing pseudonym for the same reason (who I spent all of Year 7 lusting over, but after several emails with the old school friend who found me, that’s not uncommon, there were at least 4 or 5 boys I said that about – “Oooh, him! I used to want to pash him so badly!”. Heh. I must have been one frustrated young thing because I pashed exactly none of them, but I’m fine with that because some people are just late bloomers, ok! And it was clearly a lucky escape, for school friend’s response to one admission was “What? You wanted to pash him? He would have eaten you!” Which means that either I was a tasty looking little schoolgirl, or that guy was really hungry, I’m not sure which.) Obviously, I need a facebook account so I can go and look at the pages of all those boys who I desperately wanted to kiss, and look at how fat and ugly they are now in some kind of odd validation. (Not really – I’m just curious to see the pages of people I was friends with way back when.)

Unfortunately, everything I think of either gives NOT the image I was hoping for (witty, funny, smart, etc) but something else – Farty McFartypants probably sounds a bit… well, smelly. The only other ones I’ve thought of sounded decidedly smutty. Like a porn star name. (ooh, interesting idea – use your ‘porn star name’ – the name of your first pet and the first street you lived on – I’d be Minty Bambara if I picked that.

Any suggestions? Minty Bambara’s the only one I have right now – and I just thought of it 5 seconds ago so it probably sucks too.

Handy

I may still be somewhat ‘armless, however I am making up for that by being extremely handy. Got a requirement? Let me solve it for you just by looking in my handbag.

Case in point: This morning during the mad dash to get to the train station on time, I was fishing around in my handbag looking for my keys. The keys to my office door, which I lock on those days I leave the laptop at work just in case of any light fingered team members, so I really needed to have them unless I wanted to sit outside my office door all day. (Hindsight: That sounds like more fun than being in here, working! What was I thinking!)

I didn’t just find my keys, I also found big heavy silver nutcrackers. I don’t remember even putting them in there or where they came from. That is curiously handy, I will give them to The Boyfriend’s mum, who was given a huge bag of macadamias on the weekend that all need cracking.

I think it is time to clean out my handbag. Either that, or there’s a psychic leaving strange gifts in my handbag when I’m not looking.

I’m ‘armless

Yesterday I went to a specialist I had been referred to see about a lump on my arm, the size of a small pea, that had been bothering me for a few months.

I was expecting just an initial consult. I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear “That’s a tumour and we’d best take it out right now if you have time.” Even if they did follow that sentence up with “Don’t worry, it’s probably benign.”

I’m not sure if specialists have a dry sense of humour or none at all.

I am such a trouper that even having had half my arm cut off (well a small bit of it anyway) I was at work by 11. However today it hurts more than yesterday, and if anyone’s ever tried washing their hair without getting one arm wet they would know it is very difficult, involves a willing partner to pour water over your head for you, and is best not done when the morning is a chilly 5C (41F) and the bath is not terribly full, leading to violent shivering and a rather rushed affair.

I have no idea why it looks like my arm and desk glows in the dark, because it actually does not – I suspect my crackberry’s camera function is not quite cutting it – however this is the new look I am sporting.