Archive for the ‘it’s all about me’ Category

Last Train to Snoozeville

January 21, 2010

I often time my departure from work to coincide with a nice comfy country train. Normal suburban trains are the norm to my local train station, however sometimes (about once an hour) you can catch a country train headed for the mountains that happens to stop at my station. They are faster than the suburban trains – they stop at few stations. The seats are roomier and more comfortable. The air conditioning actually works! They are also quieter, for most of the passengers are traveling further and want to catch up on work, or reading, or sleep.

One of the locals found out a while ago that I often caught a particular country train, and being a creature of habit that I always sat in the same carriage and seat. Since then, he has been catching the same train. I have often wished he wouldn’t – he’s a bit of an annoying character. His heart’s in the right place though so I put up with his nonsense all the way home, on what used to be a peaceful and quiet trip home, away from the rowdy rabble on the suburban trains. When you walk on a country train, the atmosphere is almost hushed, as if you are entering a church. Not this friend – he leaps on board, greets me VERY loudly, and keeps up a long conversation the whole way, no matter how many times I tell him to keep his voice down, the people in the next state can hear him, and no matter how many of the regular country train goers frown at him.

Yesterday for the first time, I was actually pleased he got the same train as me. I must have been exhausted – I’d gotten on the train and gone straight off to sleep, not even waking as the train pulled out of the station. By the time my stop came along, I was well into a very complicated dream about how to make the best scrambled eggs in the world (Damn it, I can’t remember how now!). My loud fellow traveler came to wake me up at my stop – lucky he did or I’d be writing this post from who knows where!

Hungry Hungry Hippos

November 23, 2009

I loved that game as a kid. Must have driven my poor mum mad with the noise of it!

I decided to host a party next weekend. A Divorce Party, to celebrate the fact that my divorce is official after lots of time and money have been invested! (Remind me next time I think it would be a good idea to get married, to just find someone I don’t really like very much and just hand them a cheque for several hundred thousand dollars, it will save wasting time next time). Anyway, apparently a divorce party is not a very nice reason, it’s been turning a few heads. The caterer (for once, JUST ONCE, I want to spend an entire party having fun rather than cooking food, and have hired a mob to make spit roast lamb and pork) paused when he asked the reason for the party and I told him it was a Divorce Party, then said “Well, how about we just put Christmas Party on the booking form then, shall we?”

So the hippo alluded to playing the game was me earlier this evening. I bought some nibblies for the party this afternoon. Since then I have eaten some brie and bickies, smoked salmon and cream cheese on mini toasts, and some garlic chive cheese. I do believe it is important to do a proper taste test before a big event. I think we mught just call it that.

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.

I’m Not Surprised I Scored 0% on Discipline

April 24, 2009


Your result for The Best Thing About You Test…

Passion

Hot! Passion is your greatest virtue

Passion is an intense emotion that compels feeling, enthusiasm, or desire for anything, and that often requires action. Get that? Requires action. It’s very likely you submit to your deepest needs and live life with a flair few others achieve, but many envy. All 7 virtues are a part of you, but your passion runs deepest.

Passionate types: artists, writers, composers, athletes, and heroine addicts.

Your raw relative scores follow. 0% is low, and 100% is perfect, nearly impossible. Note that I pitted the virtues against each other, so in some way these are relative scores. It’s impossible to score high on all of them, and a low score on one is just relatively low compared to the other virtues.

YOUR VIRTUES

30% Compassion

44% Intelligence

38% Humility

33% Honesty

0% Discipline

57% Courage

58% Passion


Take The Best Thing About You Test
at HelloQuizzy

Any Other Time I Would Have Been Angry

April 23, 2009

Yesterday I was on my way to work. I was feeling pretty tired and second hand after a late night cheering up a friend with a broken heart. I must have looked a sight. Of course, there was no seat available on the train – there never is when you really need it!

It was pretty chilly and I was wearing a read coat that only buttons up high and flares out to mid thigh level. A bit like this one, but possibly less fitted around the waist.

A young man who was sitting near me caught my eye and very politely said “Excuse me, would you like my seat?” Halleluiah! I gratefully accepted, on account of the fact that I felt a million years old, had not enough hours of sleep behind me and a raging hangover. As I thanked him and sat down, he frowned at all the men nearby and murmered something along the lines of how he hated it when men did not stand for pregnant ladies.

I was torn for a split second while it computed in my brain. Flared coat that is not fitted around the belly. Tired looking woman. He thought I was pregnant! It took only a moment to decide between telling him he was mistaken and giving his seat back or leaving it as it was. I smiled at him really sweetly as I thanked him and rubbed my belly in the way I have seen pregnant women do. I like to think I made his day for his thoughtfulness – he would have bragged that all over the office. He sure made mine, and I got an extra 25 minutes of shut eye on the trip that was desparately needed. And I paid back karma wise by making myself almost miss my train home that afternoon by stopping to let work security know someone had left their headlights on in their car which was parked in the work carpark. Oh, and it made a screamingly funny story to tell later at The Local.

Why Does It Always Rain On Me

April 1, 2009

This morning I had two choices.

1. Catch that train, and not find my umbrella. (Thought process: It’s raining outside, but it’s sure to stop by the time I get to work. It’s a full city block walk to the work building from where the bus drops me off, but I’m a good person – I deserve to get a break today! Right?)

2. Find the umbrella and miss my train, putting into jeopardy the carefully timed dash to the train, then dash to the bus, then dash to the work building from the other side of the business park. (Thought process: I hate missing the fast train! I don’t want to get the next train, it’s always full of smelly and annoying people and I never get a seat!)

I picked number 1, of course. Then the train was late so I would in fact have caught the fast train anyway if I had stopped to get the umbrella. Then when I got off the bus? It wasn’t just raining cats and dogs, it was hailing taxis. I was so drenched by the time I got to my desk that I wrung water out of my hair and clothes as if I were freshly out of a shower that I’d taken and forgotten to take my clothes off for first. (Thought process: It’s pretty empty in my office area. Surely if I take my pants off to dry nobody would even notice? heh. I restrained myself from doing that.)

Now I’ve worked out why this happened. It is because I am greedy and lustful.

Greed: Very High
Gluttony: High
Wrath: Medium
Sloth: High
Envy: Medium
Lust: Very High
Pride: Medium

Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz

Act Your Age!

March 16, 2009

People often comment that they are surprised to learn my age, they always think I’m younger than I am. Actually, it’s caused me a few issues at work before, with people not realising I could in fact have enough experience to do a role, because I’m older than I look. I’m now wondering if perhaps it’s not my looks but my maturity that makes people wonder how old I am 🙂


You Act Like You Are 24 Years Old


You are a twenty-something at heart. You feel like an adult, and you’re optimistic about life.
You feel excited about what’s to come… love, work, and new experiences.

You’re still figuring out your place in the world and how you want your life to shape up.
The world is full of possibilities, and you can’t wait to explore many of them.

What Age Do You Act?