rantings, ravings & daily chocolate cravings: musings of a simple mind...

And I wait with baited breath...

Let me preface this post by saying this: stealing is wrong. OK? Wrong, wrongity wrong-wrong. Nothing good will ever come of it. It's a blatant disregard for the laws of our great land and... and... it's just not a good thing, OK?

OK. Good. Now...

Guess what I'm doing tomorrow... go on, guess. You know you wanna. I dare ya....

OK. Alright. Quit your whining. I'll tell you.

Tomorrow afternoon, at around 3PM, the delicious Ms C and I are having a Grey's Anatomy marathon.

So what? I hear you ask. That's not particularly exciting. Didn't you have one of those when you went on your All singin', all dancin', woo-hoo, ye-ha, ride 'em cowgirl, four day foray into catatonia girlie weekend last year?

True. Kinda.

OK, what if I told you that the delicious Ms C are having a Grey's Anatomy SEASON 3 marathon... as in the yet-to-be-aired-in-Australia season 3 of Grey's Anatomy that some evil, wicked, naughty, smack-smack-on-the-botty movie pirate (arggghhh!) illeagally downloaded off the internet. What would you say then???

I know what I would say. It'd be something like: YIPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Now, I know the people who know me are about to jump up and down in their well padded seats now, and absolutely SHRIEK: Hey! You hypocrite! You back-peddler! You... you... bad person with the double standards! Where have all your morals gone? Where are all your precious ethics now???

Not that I blame them for all the name calling, mind you. I understand their outtrage. Because you see, I'm very well known for my nagging; nagging and lecturing and berating of people who steal music off the internet. Yes. I said "steal". It's not downloading. It's not sharing files. It's stealing. You're taking someone's property without paying for it. Even if it's virtual property it's still wrong. It's stealing.

So, (and I can practically taste the question forming on your lips), what's the difference between stealing music and watching pirated copies of Grey's Anatomy all afternoon whilst gorging yourself on Cheese and Bacon Balls and Crispy M&Ms? I hear you ask.

The answer, of course, is: absolutely nothing.

I'm a bad, bad person. Bad. Bad. Wicked and woeful. Smack me with a moist towlette and poke me with a hat-pin. I am bad... And yet, I succumb. I succumb to the temptation, to the lure of McDreamy and McVet and George and Izzy and Preston and Christina and yes, even Miranda -- damn it! I succumb! The mind is strong, but the body is weak and I succumb to the snappy dialogue, engaging storylines and oh-so-pretty-people filling the little screen.

Deep in my subconscious, I justify my crime by stating, unequivocally, that I will purchase season 3 of Grey's Anatomy as soon as it's available over here (or over ebay... either one), but until then, curiosity (being the cat killing fiend that it is) will undoubtedly get the better of me, and I will indulge in the fun of sneaky, pirate viewing.

So, let me say again, stealing is bad... but Grey's is so, soooooo good.

Still too fucked to blog...

... but I'm going to have a go, anyway.

Good God, what a fortnight I've had. Work. Well, work's been a fricken spaz house... seriously. My incompetent (now ex-) boss resigned at the end of last year and finished up at Christmas. In lieu of the arrival of my new (hopefull NOT-so-incompetent) boss, my GM asked if I'd like to take on the acting manager's role. I reluctantly agreed, swayed I must admit, by the lure of the juicy, increased $$$ dangled in front of me by Mr GM. I mean, how bad could it be?????

What an idiot I was.

Now, not only do I have to do my old job (the one I'm counting the days to return to), but now I also have to do incompetent Mr Ex-boss's job... which it turns out he hadn't been doing all that well in the weeks leading up to his departure (ie. he hadn't been doing a fucking thing!) Suddenly, as I find myself drowning in a sea of totally screwed-up budget variances, engineering reports, water and sewerage engineering schematics, oh, and not to mention about a year's worth of unopened mail, the increased $$$ I fell for -- hook, line and sinker -- don't seem that... juicy. Apparently, there's a sucker born every minute, and my minute was called up on the 8th Jan.

Siiiiigggghhhhhhhhh!

They assure me that it will only take another six or eight weeks before the new manager is recruited... hrmph! (note how I'm not holding my breath on that one.) Oh, well... 5 472 000 seconds to go 'til my life returns to normal... but who's counting????

On a very happy note, though, super sexy Mr S's surgery has been rescheduled (YET AGAIN), this time to the 16th Feb. Hoo-fucking-ray! Although, secretly neither of us is getting overly excited this time because as you know, we've been burned several times before. Hopefully, this time, said surgery will eventuate and my little man (yeah, yeah I know... not so much of the little...) will finally get the surgery he so desperately needs. Having said that, could the timing of this surgery be any worse???? Cos I've got NO CHANCE of getting two weeks off work to care for the super sexy (and decrepit) Mr S (stupid, seductive $$$), which means I'll have to hire a nurse to come in and look after him (sobbing quietly as I wave good-bye to the stupid, seductive $$$). I'm not an idiot though. The nurse isn't going to be some boobed-up, mini-skirt wearing floozy called Tiffany... nope, he's going to be a burly, Birkinstock wearing, biker-type called Bruce.

I'm an evil, evil woman, aren't I?

Anyway, to reward myself for all my recent hard work (and to flitter away some of the juicy $$$ I so definitely deserve), the delightful Ms J and I decided to endulge in some well earned retail therapy on the weekend. I was sooooo looking forward to it. Just me and my little gold piece of plastic with nothing but shoe shops and clothing boutiques as far as the eye can see. Perfect.

Bollocks.

It turned out to be a monumental waste of fricken time! There was nothing, NOTHING, worth buying! I don't know how many shops I walked out of empty handed... EMPTY HANDED!!!!???? That never happens to me! Thank fuck for ebay, that's all I've got to say cos otherwise I'd be eying up the edge of the Westgate right about now.

And to top of a perfectly fabulous fortnight, today I got my period... and it's like bloodbath at the house of death down there. Not. Pretty.

Can I go to sleep now... please?

Teaser...

PS: I have new shoes to show you... and veeeeeeeeeeeeeery purdy shoes, at that... but you'll just have to wait til Saturday to see 'em :-)

Too fucked to blog...

... sorry, guys. I know. I know.

Why haven't I updated my blog?

When am I going to update my blog?

What's the fucking point of having a blog if I'm not going to update it?

Yeah, well, unfortunately time has not been my friend these past few days, and judging by my workload between now and Friday, things aren't really on the improve.

In summary:

Work load: insanely frantic, sprinkled with a good, healthy dose of: "what the?"
Pesky prolapse disk: pesky
% of brain-drain experienced by the end of the work day: 100
Chance of me blogging something coherent between now and Saturday: Zippo

Sooooo, unfortunately, you're going to have to wait... until Saturday, that is, when I get some rest and more importantly, time to sit down and actually think of something interesting and clever and vitally important to the welfare of the free world, to write about.

Til then, I shall leave you with this... I found it incredibly amusing:

Has everyone on the planet joined Weight Watchers...?

It feels like it (based on the number of point-counting conversations I've had in the past two weeks). Don't get me wrong; I say a big YEY! to all the people out there who have decided to get healthy, lose weight and feel better about themselves. You should be proud of yourselves. You should feel good about making such an important, life affirming decision. Hip hip hooray to you all...

Having said that, if I have to have one more discussion about the point differences between cottage and riccotta cheese, I may have to stuff said cottage cheese up someone's nose. Get it?

I'm a little cranky today, can you tell?

I think I know why though: it's bloody new year's resolutions. That's what the crankiness is about. All those people who joined Weight Watchers to uncover their healthier, hotter inner-selves; all those people who have stopped smoking; started spending more time with their families; promised to sleep more and work less, blah, blah, blah... it all reminds me that whenever I have made a new year's resolution in the past, I've failed to achieve it -- miserably.

So far, in my 30-something years on earth, I've "resolved" to stop smoking at least 7 times; to lose weight a dozen or more years in a row; to stop swearing; to watch less TV... yadda yadda yadda. And how many times have I done what I've set out to do?

NONE!

Zippo.

Never.

Which just goes to reinforce what I've said about myself since I was in my mid-teens: I'm lazy. I'm lazy and I have no will power. Case closed.

But then, the other day I got to thinking about this manic, on-going, failure pattern that I've perpetuated with all these new year's resolutions over the years, and I realised something: all my resolutions have always been about denial... more specifically: denying myself things (cigarettes, chocolate, Australian Idol). It's never been about giving myself permission to do something, or have something. It's always been about stopping, cutting-back, curbing.

Well, that's just bullshit, don't you think? What kind of a life is that?

Don't do this.

Can't have that.

Stop it, you'll go blind... you get the picture.

Well, why not just lie down and die right here, right now? I mean, I may as well since I'm not allowed to have anything I want or do anything I like.

Fuck that.

So, this year, I've decided that my new year's resolutions are going to be something more positive:

In 2007, I will allow myself to be imperfect. I will allow myself to slacken off, without guilt. I will not think negative thoughts every time I look in the mirror. I will sing badly in the shower whenever I want. I will dance in the rain if I feel like it. And I will not judge myself based on other people's standards.

Oh, and I'll allow myself to eat as much chocolate as I like and not fret about the pimples that spring up on my chin as a result.

Now, there are some resolutions I think I can acutally achieve.

Roll on 2007...

Back to the bullshit...

Well, I'm back at work after two fleeting weeks of annual leave over the Christmas and New Year period. Yey... OK, not even I can fane enthusiasm about being back in the office. It just makes me feel dirty. On the upside, however, I've enjoyed seeing my work buddies again: Matty G and Princess Sheila, in particular. On the downside, I can't do any more of my preferred, happy-happy, annual leave, fun-time activities, such as watching DVDs, sleeping and shopping (same as every other day really, except without the pesky interruption of work to break my rhythmn).

I thoroughly enjoyed my holidays this year (although I could have used another week, to tell you the truth). My wonderful mother-in-law bought me the Sex and the City Overnight Collection for Christmas... check it out:

All I can say is: YIP-FUCKING-EEE! I've been HANGING out for this box set for AGES!!!! It's sooooo cute, and not only does it come with the DVDs, but also this gorgeous, very roomy overnight bag, a hairbrush, funky nail file, skin hydrating shmoo and really, really gorgeous foofy, frilly eye mask thingy... none of which I will ever use, but it's so fabby!). Anyhoo, in light of the glorious gift, I spent the better part of two weeks lolling around the couch watching all six seasons back-to-back, and it was sooooo good to re-live Carrie's adventures and to see Mr Big again (although I'm so utterly over whiney, spineless Aiden and his Mr Holier-than-thou 'tude... but I digress). Of course, the super sexy Mr S has told anyone who'll listen that if he hears the Sex and the City theme song one more time, that he's going to rip his ear drums out and feed them to me with some fava beans and nice bottle of chianti... or something like that. Anyhoo, I managed to get through all six seasons with hubby's ear drums intact and chianti-free, so yey with the goodness.

Been topping up my shoe and handbag collection of late. I bought a beautiful purple, patent leather, faux croc-skin bag from Esprit yesterday. It's an absolutely gorgeous find, and it was on sale to boot: $29 down from $149!!!! Don't you just LURVE the post-Christmas sales? Speaking of which, I think I've found an eternity ring that I'd really, really like (OK, there's aboslutely no segue between post-Christmas sales and my potential new eternity ring, but hey, a girl's gotta talk diamonds!)

Anyhoo, it's just beautiful: 1.6 carats, platinum band, pave setting... and it fit me absolutely perfectly! Here's a picture of a similar ring (not exactly the same, but you'll get the idea):

Isn't it purdy???? It's just perfect... OK, well, not exactly perfect. There is only one, small, teensy-weensy problem with it: the price tag. Weighing in at a whopping $3 200, I'm not entirely sure that the super sexy Mr S will gleefully haul out his out his wallet once he cops an eyeful of the ticket price. But still, a girl can live and hope... right? Can't she? I mean, there is a slight chance he'll say yes, isn't there..? Yeah, and maybe John Howard will eliminate all taxes, denounce cricket and skip merrily through Coff's Habour wearing a pink tutu and Minolo Blahnik espadrills whilst singing I am woman, hear me roar...

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Sighhhhhhh....!!!

Separated at birth..?

I can see an uncanny resemblence between my glorious cousin, the imposing Mr A, and this hair cut... what do you think?

Above: the imposing Mr A... Below: the hair cut...

Can you tell them apart?

More NYE piccies...

Here are a few more photos taken on NYE... I'd have more to show you, but a certain someone (not naming names: GLORIOUS MS K!!!!) hasn't sent me hers yet.

So, til she does, you'll just have to make do with these:

Above: the withholder of photos, the glorious Ms K...

Above: the super sexy Mr S dreaming of more exotic locations...

Above: the delightful Ms J highlights her... errr, attributes...

Above: OK, so we're a little blurry, but I'm not sure if it's the photo or if it's us (too many bevvies)...

Above: the schpunky Mr A, the super sexy Mr S and the amazing Mr A get cozy...

Above: yes, we're wearing the same colour...just for something different...

Anyhoo, stay tuned for more photos... as soon as someone pulls her finger out... ahem...

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

You know how sometimes you have an idea and it seems completely brilliant in theory? But in practice, somehow, the brilliance often fades into, oh, I don't know: utter obsurdity?

Yeah?

Well, case in point: the super sexy Mr S decided that it would be a brilliant idea for us, and all our unsuspecting friends, to participate in a Karaoke night for our New Year's Eve Party. Simple concept, really. We each pick three songs (18 total) for the super sexy Mr S to learn on the guitar. Then, on New Year's Eve, he plays the songs and the rest of us sing along (in super-star fashion, of course).

"It'll be great!" he assured us.

"It'll be fun!" he swore.

"It'll be humiliating beyond all reckoning!" he neglected to mention.

Hmmmm.... it might have helped if he'd actually learned all the songs; it might also have helped if the CD we were using as a backing track didn't fuck-up; it definitely would have helped if we'd actually learned the lyrics (fairly logical, when you think about it); and it most definitely would have helped if just one of us could sing in key/time/tune or hold a note...

I suppose the question at the end of it all remains: Did we have fun?

The answer, of course, is a resounding: YES! We laughed and clapped and gyrated and screeched our way through the absolute worst renditions of 18 (not-so) classic songs you've ever heard. It was so bad, I'm pretty sure that there were cats in Brazil with their ears pricked up, meowing: "Hey, Jose, did ju hear sometheeeeng?". I'm also pretty sure that the glorious Ms K now has neighbours who are about to take legal action against us all for creating enough noise-polution to yank a DC-10 out of the sky, but still... we enjoyed ourselves. I mean, who needs Australian Idol when you can have Keilor Idol?

OK, don't answer that. Just be thankful that you didn't have to listen to it all... lest your ears would still be bleeding.

Anyhoo, here's the programme for the evening, followed by some lovely photos of some of the performances.

Congratulations to the delightful Ms J for winning the trophy for overall "fabby" performance on the night; to the amazing Mr A for bringing the Young Ones back into pop music; to the schpunky Mr A for all that Tom Jones-esque hip-wiggling; to the super sexy Mr S for pulling the whole thing together and somehow managing to bluff his way through 18 songs; and last, but definitely not least, to the glorious Ms K for choosing the most challenging, and definitely mind-boggling songs of all time... and actually singing them!

Three cheers for the Keilor Idols:

HIP! HIP! HOORAY!

HIP! HIP! HOORAY!

HIP! HIP! HOORAY!

Song list:

Delightful Ms J:
Turning Japanese (The Vapours)
Cold as Ice (Foreigner)
One (U2 -- duet with the super sexy Mr S)

Glorious Ms K:
I will survive (Gloria Gaynor)
My heart will go on (Celine Dion)
Bohemian Rhapsody )Queen)

Amazing Mr A:
Vertigo (U2)
Make me pure (Robbie Williams)
People are strange (The Doors)

ME:
April Sun in Cuba (Dragon)
Let me entertain you (Robbie Williams)
Copacabana (Barry Manilow)

Schpunky Mr A:
It's not unusual (Tom Jones)
Moondance (Van Morrison)
500 miles (The Proclaimers -- duet with super sexy Mr S)

Super sexy Mr S:
Blister in the sun (The Violent Femmes)
Hit me baby one more time (Brittaney Spears)
Easy/Hey Jude medley (Faith No More/The Beatles)

And now for the piccies:

 

Above: the super sexy Mr S and the schpunky Mr A belt out "500 miles"... not sure who had the better Scottish accent, though...

Above: the glorious Ms K assures us that she will survive, but will we???

Above: the amazing Mr A shows us how to Neeeeiiiiilllll...

Above: the schpunky Mr A schwings those hips...

Above: the super sexy Mr S shows us all how it's done...

Above: the delightful Ms J is a little more subdued than usual... perhaps she's missing her tap shoes?

Above: Their hearts will go on... the glorious Ms K and amazing Mr K are the "Kings of the Woooorld!"

Above: Their faces say it all, don't you think?

Anyhoo, to all of you, near and far, I wish you a safe, healthy and happy 2007...

A few more piccies...

Here are some photos of us taken at the Robbie Williams concert:

Above: The amazing Mr A and the super sexy Mr S...

Above: The super sexy Mr S, the delightful Ms J and me...

Above: The delightful Ms J and me...