Monday, November 30, 2009
The night is still ( EXCEPT FOR THE FUCKING CAT! - will you STOP scratching at the door?! There's already a hole in it. Bloody cats)
I am going to go re-read the bit in Eclilpse where Bella wakes up all bruised after her wedding night with Edward, cause it's kind of hot and it's been along time and probably the last time doesn't count cause there wasn't penetration which means its been sevenish years celibate and I am about to turn 38 which means the last time I had actually fullblown sex I was mostly unconscious and technically I should have had a hissy fit about the episode, but like, it was novel, and he stole my stockings (?!wtf). Nobody has evern felt the urge to steal my small clothes before. I can't be angry.
I am not sure how our Christmas Decoration making went on the weekend. The lass I was working with called in sick for the movie yesterday and work today, so I've not had opportunity to look them over in the cold light of day.
Eleven more days till my birthday.
In my imaginary world, I ate beautifully cut up fruit and toast in a chair outside in the shade with a view of lush green leaves and flowers instead of coffee in a paper cup and a cold apple muffin.
And after breakfast, in my imaginary world, I read the paper and sipped tea.
I know where I would rather be.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
I went to check my internet prepaid balanced to see how much of the $100 I'd used up and it reckons I've $198! Checked the little inbox and it mentions something about double data allowance. What? Why? When? If I'd known before hand I'd have only put $50 on. I can't use up $200 worth of internet in 30 days.
They are taunting me.
It's a conspiracy!
*wanders off muttering*
cats splayed out and scattered like used socks
it is starting to get warm
the ceiling fan pushes air over sweat soiled hair
humid moist air
its like I'm enveloped in my childhood security blanket
or a hug that never goes away
possibly a slightly sweaty hug, but thats okay
Friday, November 27, 2009
Myself and a lass at work are getting together tomorrow to make christmas decorations for work which will be sneered at by most and possibly gain us glory in offices down south. I am aiming for the glory. The faults in my nature which make it impossible for me to stop guessing poets before Squib remembers the one she is trying to remember have ascendance - I WANT TO WIN! Sustainable and environmentally friendly decorations. I shall make myself a crown from scrap paper.
Caught a glimpse of Better Homes and Gardens on telly. Somebody visit and dig up a patch of my lawn and make me a draughts board from pavers for Christmas. Please.
I shall hide some money away for Christmas presents for my kitties. They shall have smoked salmon for Christmas lunch (and perhaps tins of crab meat and lobster for other times around then - I should freeze some fish, eh?)
They charged me for fixing all the things they broke during the other services on my scooter. I wish I had such moxy. I'd go far.
or be in jail
I have trouble using the rubber rails on escalators because it occurred to me one day that one could easily and discretely place razors dipped in sewerage held with chewing gum under the rim and probably security cameras wouldn't even pick you up. Isn't it a good thing I am not an angry person and have such a stick up my arse about honour.
Edit: I have a dreadful craving for pineapple fritters now :(
I have googled your Oodgeroo and while I am happy to concede to her greatness, I am finding her a little depressing.
Municipal Gum by Oodgeroo Noonuccal
Gumtree in the city street,
Hard bitumen around your feet,
Rather you should be
In the cool world of leafy forest halls
And wild bird calls
Here you seems to me
Like that poor cart-horse
Castrated, broken, a thing wronged,
Strapped and buckled, its hell prolonged,
Whose hung head and listless mien express
Municipal gum, it is dolorous
To see you thus
Set in your black grass of bitumen--
O fellow citizen, What have they done to us?
I rang them because ever since the first service there has been an issue with refueling. In that it is overflowing out the bottom when I fill up and I am a little worried I might set my scooter on fire one of these days.
I rang them at lunchtime and they asked if I could bring it in now.
Perhaps they were worried I might set it on fire too?
They think that a hose has "come loose" from the fuel tank or something. No doubt the "hose coming loose" after the service is mere coincidence. I am curious to see how much they are going to charge me for this. I am finding it all quite amusing. I have been cursed ever since I left Sydney, but I refuse to give in. Bring it on, I say.
Since TSFKA isn't doing a poetry friday, I have gone googling for my fix myself. Quite like this :)
If Death is Kind - Sara Teasdale
Perhaps if Death is kind, and there can be returning,
We will come back to earth some fragrant night,
And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending
Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white.
We will come down at night to these resounding beaches
And the long gentle thunder of the sea,
Here for a single hour in the wide starlight
We shall be happy, for the dead are free.
So far they have all been about death though?
Do not stand at my grave and weep - Mary Frye
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!
You know yesterdays list of things to do? I got a haircut.
Moseyed around shops, but couldn't find anything I wanted to buy. It was frustrating. Then I bought myself a bottle of wine and ruined myself for the evening.
I never manage restraint after a period of abstinence. Am hungover. But this is good! Sort of. Because I have absolutely no urge to drink now and I am back on my no drinking kick.
I woke up at 5:30 this morning (as I tend to do if I drink), so impulse took control of my legs and I wandered out to my hammock for further kippin'. It was lovely outside. Michael-Cat hopped into the hammock with me (which he has never done before) and there was loving and patting and cuddling and sleeping and it was a lovely way to start the day.
I may do it again tomorrow :)
Thursday, November 26, 2009
would prefer not to be at work
but it is not an option
Edit: I have three and a half hours flex and am taking the rest of the afternoon off - woo-hoo! it is good to consider your options :D
what shall i do?
I've had a pie for lunch
am going to look at shops
going to look at paper
going to buy glitter and glue and ribbons and cat food and kitty litter and food and perhaps some drink? maybe
i shall have to make multiple trips cause ize only gotz a little scooter
clean kitty litter
mop some floor (around the kitty litter trays)
clean cat bowls (that cat food gravy sets like glue)
clean floor under cat bowls (messy bastard cats)
buy myself a present
bye bye darling ones
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
I frequently daydream about a little house in the country and no neighbours and at times like this I realise that perhaps that wouldn't be such a good idea afterall.
Though admittedly this is after I've won the lotto and have a kick arse garden to keep me busy and a large netted dome with jungle like interior with trees for the cats to safely roam in and a computer and paytv, so maybe I wouldn't go stir crazy afterall.
Twenty minutes to go
i can't work like this
i need to be busy
Edit: my brain with half an hour to go -
Is it a case of kill or be bored to death?
Policeman asks why I threw the chair threw the door and then stabbed a passer by with an arm sized slice of glass.
Well I had nothing else to do.
I’d been googling all day and we’d compared movie actors we thought were cute and then, well, what was I supposed to do next? You tell me?
no no, not that kind of frustration - sheesh - one track mind already what
I don't want to be at work
I don't want to be in Townsville
I want to go shopping
I want ...
It's because I have been without spare cash for nearly six weeks now. It gets to me. It makes me feel edgy. It makes me feel trapped. All the things I like to do are money dependant.
Gardening isn't money dependant, well might you say
Perhaps not, but establishing a garden is.
Library's are free, you might say next
I fucking hate libraries. They give me the heebie-jeebies. They never have the books I want either anyway and even if they did I would probably need to go on a waiting list and I am sure I have previously established patience is not one of my strong suits.
Family is free, you could potentially say then
I would respond by vomiting at the soppiness of your reply and tell you to go write greeting cards. Pfft. Family is free. Pfft.
Have googled a few ideas and some of them are a little more complicated than I can deal with because I am a clutz and have never been good with my hands, not to mention the small issue of lack of patience (jigsaw puzzles drive me insane and I frequently end up trying to hammer pieces into places they refuse to go).
I think I might be able to do this one and maybe this and potentially (if some kind of character changing miracle occurs) I might try and do this.
There are some other ones that are much simpler, but I don't have a link for them.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
This however, is not a usable excuse to escape the week long visit she says I am making.
(only a week late)
(he was probably busy)
(I shall stop pouting now)
Entry Three of the Dan Kelly Album diary is up :)
link off to the left hand side of the screen, mon petits
(or is it the other left?)
(shit what hand do i write with again?)
*pauses looking at her hands*
(Okay - the right hand side of screen)
Edit: oh nah, fuckit - just click HERE
Edit Edit: what/who the heck is Tim and Eric?
Monday, November 23, 2009
I saved one plant for yesterday.
So now I have a couple of passionfruit vines and eggplant and tomato bushes. I chucked all the out of date seeds in there as well, completely neglecting to stick to the spacing instructions. I figure if they come up, they can fight it out amongst themselves.
The bean seeds weren't out of date - i just felt like planting them.
I hate the open unobstructed fenceline. Neighbours have been cleaning up their yards and cutting down banana trees and shrubs. I don't want to see them working in their yard. I don't want anyone to see me working in my yard. I want a walled garden and intricate fretworked bars covering my windows and meals delivered through a small hole in the door big enough for the plate to fit through.
Sounds rather like solitary confinment in jail?
It would have to be a luxurious jail with unlimited internet and cushions. Fancy cushions.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
I winter in my discontent
Warmed by slights
Wrapped in bitter brooding bound resentments
If I would let go
Look out instead of in
Perhaps it would open the way for spring to begin
But I squat
In icy contemplation
Of every glancing chance personal interaction
- figured I should do one myself since I was posting other peoples poems :)
The bonsai tree
in the attractive pot
could have grown eighty feet tall
on the side of a mountain
till split by lightning.
But a gardener
carefully pruned it.
It is nine inches high.
Every day as he
whittles back the branches
the gardener croons,
It is your nature
to be small and cozy,
domestic and weak;
how lucky, little tree,
to have a pot to grow in.
With living creatures
one must begin very early
to dwarf their growth:
the bound feet,
the crippled brain,
the hair in curlers,
the hands you
love to touch.
and i like this one too, but it is longer
What Are Big Girls Made Of? - Marge Piercy
The construction of a woman:
a woman is not made of flesh of bone and sinew
belly and breasts, elbows and liver and toe.
She is manufactured like a sports sedan.
She is retooled, refitted and redesigned every decade.
Cecile had been seduction itself in college.
She wriggled through bars like a satin eel,
her hips and ass promising,
her mouth pursed in the dark red lipstick of desire.
She visited in '68
still wearing skirts tight to the knees,
dark red lipstick,
while I danced through Manhattan in mini skirt,
lipstick pale as apricot milk,
hair loose as a horse's mane.
Oh dear, I thought in my superiority of the moment,
whatever has happened to poor Cecile?
She was out of fashion, out of the game,
disqualified, disdained, dis- membered from the club of desire.
Look at pictures in French fashion magazines
of the 18th century:
century of the ultimate lady fantasy
wrought of silk and corseting.
Paniers bring her hips out three feet each way,
while the waist is pinched
and the belly flattened under wood.
The breasts are stuffed up and out
offered like apples in a bowl.
The tiny foot is encased in a slipper
never meant for walking.
On top is a grandiose headache:
hair like a museum piece,
daily ornamented with ribbons,
vases, grottoes, mountains,
frigates in full sail, balloons,
the fancy of a hairdresser turned loose.
The hats were rococo wedding cakes
that would dim the Las Vegas strip.
Here is a woman forced into shape
rigid exoskeleton torturing flesh:
a woman made of pain.
How superior we are now:
see the modern woman thin as a blade of scissors.
She runs on a treadmill every morning,
fits herself into machines of weights
and pulleys to heave and grunt,
an image in her mind she can never approximate,
a body of rosy glass that never wrinkles,
never grows, never fades.
She sits at the table
closing her eyes to food hungry,
a woman made of pain.
A cat or dog approaches another, they sniff noses.
They sniff asses.
They bristle or lick.
They fall in love as often as we do, as passionately.
But they fall in love or lust with furry flesh,
not hoop skirts or push up bras rib removal or liposuction.
It is not for male or female dogs
that poodles are clipped to topiary hedges.
If only we could like each other raw.
If only we could love ourselves
like healthy babies burbling in our arms.
If only we were not programmed
and reprogrammed to need what is sold us.
Why should we want to live inside ads?
Why should we want to scourge our softness
to straight lines like a Mondrian painting?
Why should we punish each other with scorn
as if to have a large ass were worse
than being greedy or mean?
When will women not be compelled
to view their bodies as science projects,
gardens to be weeded, dogs to be trained?
When will a woman cease to be made of pain?
Sonnet 13 - And wilt thou have me fashion into speech by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
The love I bear thee, finding words enough,
And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough,
Between our faces, to cast light on each?
—I drop it at thy feet. I cannot teach
My hand to hold my spirit so far off
From myself—me—that I should bring thee proof
In words, of love hid in me out of reach.
Nay, let the silence of my womanhood
Commend my woman-love to thy belief,
—Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed,
And rend the garment of my life, in brief,
By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude,
Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief
Being an airhead is such a drain. Do you suppose it is because my hair is the wrong colour? I tried to dye it blonde once, but fried it by accident. I should let a hairdresser do it next time.
Who knows? One day I may even have spare cash to buy Christmas Cards from his store - sigh - one day.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
chicken, bacon, red onion, cheese, toasted panni - so much bacony goodness
I forgot to pack my lunch and my resistance was low. I am now doomed to rice and vegetables and NO COFFEE until Thursday.
I lack the ability to think ahead rationally. Now-goodness always wins against future-goodness. I am also shit at chess.
(I always make sure I have enough cat food first though)
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
I have been pining for them. The teacher always looks so laid back and calm and happy. Like he has taken drugs and is just waiting for the kids to start so that he can laugh at the audience listening to them. He clicks his fingers louder than the children play. He actually blushed tonight, when one of the little songs came apart half way through.
None of the children cried on stage, though there was one violinist who didn't actually play the whole time she was out there. She did look very pretty posed to bow. There was however a crying girl escorted through the audatorium by her mother. Possibly distressed by her performance? I don't know. They all look the same to me in their little blue and white shirts and plaits.
Queen has never been quite the same for me since hearing 1st year wind play a short mishmash of "We will rock you" and "Another one bites the dust".
The two ladies next to me couldn't hold it together during 1st year strings and collapsed into giggles. My pregnant sister felt the need to leave the room. Sadly no older fathers stiffling curses at their wives for dragging them along. Most parents seemed quite happy to be there.
Shame that, but one can't have everything.
The trumpets and trombones seemed to sound more duck like than earlier in the year. Depressed ducks in need of prozac.
My 13 yr old niece threatened to punch me very very hard if I sang along to Jingle Bell Rock. Luckily it turned out I don't actually know the words. Tortured her by leering at the drum teacher.
She called me a freak and a loser.
I reminded her I have not yet bought her Christmas present and she might want to rethink that one.
All in all, a most satisfactory evening
(My nieces arm and saxophone)
((the one at the back on the left))
I think there is choir as well
primary school music recitals are a special night
watching the parents who uninhibtedly haunt the stage with film cameras, whilst others seem to be wishing they could transform into a wolf caught in a trap, so they might have the option to chew their own leg off to get away
the exercise of willpower (or in my case the hand clapped over mouth) so one does not giggle when a small nervous child causes their instrument to make a sound like a distressed duck
earlier in the year one poor girl was overwhelmed by the stage and just stood there with her hands over her face weeping silently whilst the other two girls kept playing
tradegy and triumphant in the same night
I've been cursed at
and told I am 'fucking stupid'
by a somewhat excited gentleman
who telephoned the office this morning
when i could not hear his surname properly
over the screaming of the child in the background
i am unperturbed
I am dressed in grey
one cannot get excited when monotone?
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
I wonder if out going people ever experience this?
Or whether it is a trait peculiar to the introverted and self-conscious.
Oh lord love a duck!
I am so bored, I become boring.
Something interesting better happen soon before I start waffling with existential angst.
I am now very very bored
somebody do something
Jesus wept tears of blood in the garden at midnight
so very very bored
other people list the keywords that have bought people to their blogs
frequently they are funny and interesting
keywords for finding my blog are:
"I am a bad person"
"I am so immature"
The unconnected cable at front of scooter turns out to be the electrics and with "the screw falling out" (otherwise known as the cable that was not reconnected after the tyres were changed) has caused the inside wiring to also fall out and they have had to order a new cable. Have no idea how much that is going to cost. Have reminded them I won't have any money until thursday week and he said they would work something out.
If this were a television show or a movie I could get an offer for sex out of that, but taking into account it is neither and I am a good 20 kilos overweight, I don't expect that is going to be the case.
My bosses hubby admired my crooked teeth yesterday. Seemed to think them charming?
Perhaps he is another who is freaked out by the too white perfect teeth seen nowadays. So creepy. Our local newsreader, who is far to pale and gelled, has teeth whiter than the whites of his eyes. Gives me the shivers every time I see him. Want cute boofy looking Chris Reid back, damnit.
Perhaps when I get my broken tooth (from falling of the scooter in the wet last november) fixed, I might be able to get a gold tooth. I've always wanted one.
(like this, but without the stubble - though god only knows what will happen when I hit menopause - lap of the gods)
Monday, November 16, 2009
I tend to do the same things, at the same time, most times.
Some habits are acquired quickly.
Once is enough.
In conclusion: it is monday morning and Dan Kelly has not updated his album blog yet
*quick breath followed by heavy sigh*
(one of the most annoying noises a person can make)
*trudges away to daily drudgery with shoulders slumped disappointedly*
Tells herself, "I don't need it. I can give it up any time I want. I could pour this coffee down the sink too. If I wanted."
mutter mutter mutter mutter work have blocked twitter too crivens
Saturday, November 14, 2009
He came out with three pixie sticks and I thought he had thieved them from his eldest sister's room and ran to dob him in to my niece, but it turns out they actually gave them to him. Eldest has friend visiting. Other niece was then also given pixie sticks. In her favourite colour too!
I have never seen eldest generous before.
I am shocked.
She is quite stoked. Today is her 19th anniversary of moving in with her man and they have now gone out to watch 2012. Not exactly the kind of movie I'd been inclined to go to, but her guy will leap like a landed fish at every sudden surprise and perhaps even shriek a little like a girl, which is always kind of fun to witness.
Eldest niece has a friend over and they have taken over the 'good' computer and are talking to other friends over msn and possibly other friends on the phone. The phone has been glued to her ear since she turned thirteen. I think she was just waiting for the excuse.
They have 'done' my nephews hair. It is all slicked down at the front and spiky at the back, like a cartoon character. Now they are taking photographs of him.
We used to put our brothers hair in pigtails and make them wear makeup.
How times have changed.
I feel old.
Edit: I started off so well - I done lots of clothes washing, done some plate washing, done some tidying and sweeping, done put music dvd of crowded house on and have been mostly sitting about singing along since.
I feel possessed - w00t!
They said they didn't need me for babysitting. I checked, darnit! Now they need me for babysitting and I can't drive. They are coming to pick me up, but, like, I hate it when they have to do that. Makes me feel like an alcoholic. But I checked! argh
It makes cleaning up so much more fun if one is slightly merry and listening to loud music :( oh well
Am reading book by John Connolly called "The Gates" or possibly "The Gates of Hell are about to open, Mind the Gap" it is a childrens book, of course. I quite like childrens books. It is quite enjoyable, even though John appears to be trying to teach 7 year olds quantum physics. I'm fine with that. Confuse the little suckers as much as you want John. Do them good. 'sprobably character building :)
Friday, November 13, 2009
My scooter is ready.
It is a beautiful day.
The only thing stopping me from blowing this joint is the need for continued employment and therein a weekly wage.
*shakes fist at god of lotto who is so stingy with his favours*
So far it has brought me a lift into work from the owner of the place where I've dropped my scooter off to have the tyres replaced.
It was so sweet of them.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
usually I am a good sleeper
i have a routine
when i do achieve slumber
it is intermitent, unreliable and unsatisfying
last night, nearly on the verge of unconsciousness
the cats conspired
taking turns to make loud noises
knocking over the suitcase standing against the wall
filled with clothes that will never fit me again
drag races up and down the length of the house
gallumping on polished wooden floors
4 feet x 5
then up the bookcase to land on screen
a dispute between males outside the bathroom
a curious, vaguely distresed meow from an outside cat
discrete vomiting noise from under the bed
wake wake morning has come
I must have slept, mustn't I?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
As she reached further there was a dark mist and the floor fell away from underneath. Under the floor, under the bed. Falling and falling feet over head.
And the blackness had voices and the blackness had eyes, that screamed and raged and whistled and sighed. From the gloom in her room. Under the floor. Under the bed. Falling she was feet over head.
and then maybe end with soemthing along the lines of
and the kind of the underbed screamed it's your fault that all this junk is lying about and he marched her too the top of the heap of the junk in the gloom under the bed in her room, its time for you to face the consequence, on your head be it or be it on your head and with that he tossed her off the heap and now she is dead.
and then a moralisticee something or other about
so that is why you should always clean your room
never just shove everything under your bed
you don't know what is lurking in the dark and gloom
you just might end up dead
This was a couple of weeks ago.
Last night when she called and she was mentioning tolls and the gateway and desperate for something to say, I mentioned I'd heard they weren't doing paper train tickets anymore and she said something along the lines of yes it's ridiculous, but I'm sure we can work something out for when you're here.
She thinks I only have three cats.
She's been over thrusting her good intentions onto my poor Uncle Sidney and cleaned out his fridge for him. He didn't want her to. He found the whole experience quite traumatic and wasn't his usual cheery self when he called. His voice gets all stressed and shakey, cause the only way to stop her when she gets like that is to have big knockdown melodramatic fight with her. Now she is feeling all powerful and confidence after bullying Sid. She'll want to come over to my place too. Damned if I know how I am going to stop her?
Maybe this weekend I will ask around some of the department stores about christmas relief, so that I can try and get out of this 'assumed' visit.
Edit: In all fairness I must admit, there was some stuff that has been in the fridge since 2002.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
When I stop patting him to go do whatever it was I was doing, he lunges at my legs and tries to herd me back to where the loving was happening by biting my ankles and feet.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Day Two adventures of Dan Kelly is up and I wish he would not talk about food. I've turned into a locust this last week. No food in the house lasts longer than a few hours. The night before last I ate two of those little frozen dinners and half a cambert with avocado on biscuits.
I've eaten quite enough for today too, but am now craving soup.
Am down to my last bottle of wine and the three dessert wines. Just as well too. I think my internal organs have pickled.
in their opinion - not withstanding that I've had dermatitis on my hands for over six months and have everybody reminding me to stop scratching because the palms of my hands are looking leprous :) - that I should be doing all the washing up after the lunch?
chook 2 is treating me like an office junior and keeps going on about how young i look (I am 38! for heavens sake!) and chook 1 is worried i am going to take her job and therefore doesn't put any calls through to me
i don't think they believe me about the arthritis either? Chook 1 was suggesting I should do some mango picking after I finish up with them
People are weird
I would quite like to go back to my data entry and my headphones
make them red, make them blue
deep and drowning passionate hues
change the bedlinen to dark chocolate brown so i can imagine myself wrapped in your eyes
what care i for golden sunlit walls
i would rather darkness and your sighs
take the sun away
let there be only night
(aye currumba - one of these days I will manage to write a nice little love poem without it sounding hokie - persistance is my watchword!)
I turn away
I prefer the view inside the window
(and originally the last line was "it contains you" but then I proofreading and it made me vomit a little in my mouth, so i figured that was too cheesey- lol)
Friday, November 6, 2009
I can never shrugg anything off.
I always admired and envied the bad kids at school. The cheeky ones. The naughty ones. The ones who would play up and take what was coming. Like water off a ducks back.
Probably they didn't really. Probably they went home and cried. Maybe cut themselves or had unsafe sex - I don't know. They gave good show anyway.
Watching 'Can we Help" - question asked is "Why do men have nipples" - regardless of the answer provided, which is that we all start as female embros and then change and therefore men have nipples - I just want to say that I am very fond of nipples and am also very fond of men's nipples.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
I am quite entranced with the idea of this book - lol
Mr Darcy Vampyre - by Amanda Grante
Elizabeth Darcy is the happiest woman alive when she steps into the carriage that is to take her on her wedding tour - until she sees the look of torment on Mr Darcy's face and discovers that he has a deep, dark secret that nearly destroys their love, their marriage and even her very life.
Darcy and the rest of his family are vampires that cannot be outside during sunrise or sunset.
Lady Catherine is at the source, having turned Georgiana into an undying friend for her vampiric daughter, Anne, and then Darcy as the perfect mate for Anne.
Now Lizzy and Darcy must travel across the Continent to the Pyrenees to find a way to break the curse. But Lady Catherine won't give up her undead without a fight.
Very straight forward approach to issues.
Universal solution proposed = blow them all up.
So far 'them' encompasses: boat people, iraq, afghanistan, christmas island (so boat people can't land on it)
Possibly Indonesia has been included as well. I am not sure. I've departed earshot.
oh and asian doctors - they should all be sent home as well apparently.
Edit: and according to Chook 1 it is the boys from Good Charlotte's fault that the teacher quit idol because they are such airheads and must have put the teacher off the music industry, not the visit home and to his school making him realise that being a teacher was more fulfilling (lol) so she is watching border security now instead and she says all the murders are asian and we shouldn't let them into the country
So, I've decided to tunnel my way out.
Luckily I have been keeping a stock of the plastic knives and forks wrapped in napkins from the local cafe, that they give me with my morning ham and cheese croissant. I only have four sets and two loose knives, so I shall have to be careful when sawing through the carpet and digging up the concrete.
I plan to tunnel under reception until I hit the storm water pipe, follow it along for a couple of blocks and then sneak out through the drain in the gutter in front of coles, where I shall stop for supplies of malteasers and peach flavoured iced-tea.
After that? I am not quite sure.
Freedom is such an awesome responsibility.
I am soo bored i want to quit my job out of hand and instantly, go home to my bed and never get out of it ever again.
I want to be like that woman in that movie by David Byrnes which had all those beautiful camera shots of very flat dry land.
John Goodman was in the movie and ends up with the woman who never gets out of bed.
That would be fine too.
I've always thought John Goodman was a cutie.
Why, I hear you ask, have you posted a picture of a zombie kitten?
God or Amorphous All-Powerful Being implied that I had to, that's why.
Howzat? I hear you respond.
Well, you see, it was the signs. They were very clear.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. The signs.
Yes - the signs. I posted a blog on myspace which mentioned mutant zombie kittens. Then yesterday somebody on a blog mentioned dead russian marxist zombie nazi kittens and today they have posted a lolcat of a kitten who wants kitten brainz. THE SIGNS!
*wanders away gibberring*
silence seeps into open pores
the ring of the phone sounds faded and unreal
receptionists coughing self-interrupts causing accidental slam of drawer
and the low grade background hum of the printers and copiers burrows into my brain like maggots and I feel less than sane as I contemplate another day at the office
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
positive reinforcement for my stalking
feel free to give me subject to look for on the net :D
floating away on a haze of alcohol
1993 tamberline reserve red called 'the chapel'
things are a little blurry
i like wakes
maybe somebody should knock off another of my cats
provided they supply me with excellent booze before hand
its only Wednesday!
I was working on the understanding that it was Thursday all day today and I had to have seventy folders stuffed with stuff before i left work at 4:30 pm - i only got the final list of documents to include at 4:00 pm - feel foolish for stressing - stoopid days of the week being wednesday instead of thursday like wot i thunk it
i should write to somebody!
am at loose end now
it is twiddle or tweedle?
*drums fingers on table*
A dual cab ute of young men (muscular nubile young men) pulled up beside me at the lights last night when I was heading home after babysitting. Started hooting and calling out stuff at me (not bad stuff necessarily - nothing vulgar). Invited me out. Said it would be free drinks for me. Called out their mobile number and invariably, as always happens, somebody called out 'pop a mono' (which means do a wheelie/wheelstand), which sadly is not possible on a little beatup 50 cc scooter.
Next set of lights I decided to pull in behind them instead, cause all that whistling and stuff makes me feel a little self conscious. Particularly since I am not a skinny or impressively breasted lady and it is soo very obviously a pisstake. They pulled over into the turning lane at the last minute to be beside me again.
am probably old enough to be their mother
Simon has been blogging about how his friend Scott wishes he knew more about this musician and am going to play at googling this today. Not that my search skills are going to be anything compared to Simon's who is much more computer literate than myself or probably Scott's though I don't know for sure as I have no idea who Scott is.
C. C. La Due.
- He was in Brisbane at one stage (and might still be).
- He made a CD called Magical Risk.
- The CD is excellent.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
My supervisor has been wearing a fake moustache since she arrived this morning. She is seeing clients with it on.
I have ten each to place on Basaltico and Cest La Guerre.
Edit 12:28 pm: have stuck my moustache on now too - will post a photo this evening :)
Edit 14:13 pm: phooey - i no winny. Stoopid horse race.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Her mother was a feral kitten. I suspect she was dumped at my sydney rental by the drunken mad cat man that roamed the neighbourhood looking for his lost cat that had snuck into his van when he went to do his grocery shopping and then run away in fright. I think he saw my three fat tabby cats and sympathetic eyes and decided I was a likely one.
I'd been feeding cookie for a couple of weeks when I noticed her getting fatter than I expected. She seemed far to small to be getting preggers. She gave birth when I was away from home for a fortnight catsitting my brothers cats. I'd asked my flatmate to keep putting food out for her. I didn't manage to sight the kittens for weeks. They were so quiet. She would hide them under the bbq before calling to me for food. New Years Eve long weekend I caught them and bundled them in the vacant granny flat at the back of the rental which was probably full of asbestos. They were unfriendly and athletic. Loved to play. Two metres of ribbon with a toy mouse tied on the end and tripple somersaults and metre high leaps.
Her brother Michael became more friendly, but only to me. Tina just never seemed that interested. She was the prettiest of all my cats. Little girls immediately fell in love with her and were then were very very frustrated when she ran away and hissed at them.
I brought them with me to Townsville when I moved. At first they all stayed inside, but summer was so hot that in all good conscience I could not keep them locked inside, even though I have issues with letting them roam free. Partially to do with the effect on wildlife, but mostly because my first cat owned from out of home was hit by a car and killed.
After some time of freedom she became more approachable. Where previously she would make me chase her twice around the flat before crouching still to let me pat her, she took to inviting me to touch her - as long as I kept to the rules. She started to meow and nag me for food, which she had never done before. There was invitation to interact. If I were outside in the yard, she would come over and see what I was doing and keep company.
Picking her dead body up, still soft and warm lying in a halo of blood from the driveway of the house opposite will haunt me for awhile.
I couldn't dig a hole deep enough to bury her, but I can't face the thought of putting her in the wheelie bin with the used kitty litter to be thrown out with the trash.
I have wrapped her in a favourite dress. It cost a couple of hundred at the time. The skirt is soft and flowing, though not as soft as her fur was. Rest assured. I am not going to keep her bloody body in the freezer. At present she is as deep a ground as I can get her and I am buying potting mix to pile atop. One bag a day for the rest of the week, I guess. It is all I can fit on the scooter.
She was dead in all the dreams I had last night. Her blood stained collar is sitting on my bookcase.
Dan Kelly is/has written a diary of the recording of his new album. The afternoon of Day One has been posted. It is shaping up to be very very entertaining.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Stocking up on cat food and litter.
Maybe go out and take some photos of Townsville for the blog. A friend contacted me to ask me about things to do in Townsivlle, cause her parents were maybe coming her on holidays. Made me think about perhaps writing a weekly Townsville post .
Bustled out early, cause IGA is open from 5:30, but decided to go get petrol in the scooter first. Filled up. Strangely more than usual. Was pleased. I get embarrassed just paying 3 and 4 dollars.
Come back out and petrol appears to be pissing out of the underside of scooter. Paniac. Telephone brother-in-law and move scooter away from bowsers. Whilst waying it stops. Maybe only half or one litre lost. Maybe. I am not good at amounts, but it didn't seem like it all came out or anything.
Am crouched on the ground trying to look at the underside but it is all covered by plastic siding etc. Brother-in-law arrives. Same difficulties. Conclude is some kind of overflow or a crack high up in the filling pipe, rather than the fuel tank.
Scooter is in for a service Thursday, so am just going to be alert and cautious until then.
Could do without this.
Suspect fate conspiring to make me ride the darn bicycle.
So instead of virtuous domesticity, I am going to drink some wine and watch the DVD I bought yesterday - Zombie Strippers (who could resist a movie called zombie strippers, eh? who?)