Archive for May, 2009

Added Bonus!

May 27, 2009

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?

May 25, 2009

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.


May 19, 2009

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

May 15, 2009

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.



May 4, 2009

I’ve had troubles with one particular door at the new workplace. I can never get it to open for me. I swipe my security card and can never seem to open the door, and the security guards in the foyer are always having to rescue me. To the point where I have started walking a different way around the building.

Today I worked out the trick. As I swiped and swore, pulling the door unsuccessfully with every swipe, I read the sign on the door. Yep, the one that says PUSH.