Sole redeeming feature.

The only upside of Mr K having purchased that noisome, malodorous and frequently filthy piece of detestable junk that festers away in a corner of my  kitchen under the innocuous and seemingly innocent pseudonym of ‘coffee machine’... is that one can, on occasion make oneself a decent hot chocolate about twice a year.  :

As anyone who has been to a coffee shop with me might know, I like my hot chocolate to actually be hot as compared to lukewarm – and if at all possible not too sweet (I know it’s a conundrum).  Anyway not long after Mr K bought the espresso machine from the 5th circle of hell I purchased some Cadbury’s Caramel Drinking Chocolate which surprisingly enough isn’t as sweet as the regular Cadbury Drinking Chocolate.  Well do you think I’ve been able to find it in the stores since?  No!  Not on your life.

I assumed that it had gone the way of my favourite purple Revlon nail polish (called 344-08 Purple Twilight in case any one has a bottle laying around that they don’t want) and ended up on a list of Discontinued Product lines. 

Woe was me….

until today where I fortuitously stumbled over some at Chris ‘n’ John’s (note to the non-local… Chris ‘n’ Johns was the local shop when I was growing up owned strangely enough by Chris and John 😐  Anyway it got taken over by a smallish grocery chain years ago called the IGA – Independent Grocer’s Association – but fucked if I can’t seem to stop calling it Chris ‘n’ John’s even though I understand John buggered off from the business yonks ago… but I digress) 

What was I talking about again?  Damn these drugs….
Oh yes… Reader’s Digest version –
Hot chocolate.
Caramel flavour.
Happy dance  πŸ™‚
Stop.
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A messy desk is a sign of a creative mind….

Desktops covered in icons (useful, disused or otherwise) make me twitch.
They’re always lurking in the background and even though you can’t always see them…. you’re aware of their inherently malignant presence.   They hide underneath the programs you have running like insidious little dust bunnies that hide under your bed and whose sole purpose is to evade the vacuum cleaner and multiply when you’re not looking.

I hate them.  They remind me that I’m less organized than I should want to be…. and they seem to reflect the state of my house.  If the house is untidy my desktop tends to likewise be in disarray.  Why is it so?

And why can’t I just leave them there? Multiplying to their heart’s content?  In truth they’re not maliciously causing any tangible or particular injury to myself or others.  They’ve even been known to be useful from time to time… and yet I despise them so completely I’m constantly compelled to cull.  And it’s not usually because I’m finished with them, but rather because I can’t stand seeing the detestable digital detritus scattered all over the desktop! 

It’s normally right about when they start to overrun  “Rip-My-Still-Beating-Heart-Out-Of-My-Chest” Bear is when I start to really twitch.. which of course leads to randomly deleting the little fuckers or at the very least moving the unholy little bastards off the desktop in order to keep my sanity.

If the day ever comes when they start to invade my second monitor and  “It-Wasn’t-Me-The-Cat-Spontaneously-Combusted” Bear seems like he too might be overcome.. well… that’ll be the day they send for the little men in their white coats to come and take me away. 

Perhaps this quantifiable manifestation of my latent OCD tendencies is something I need to devote some time to with one of the multitude of allied health professionals who are supposedly monitoring my mental well being…

And while we’re at it, perhaps we might need to examine the rationale behind my having saved the image below to my aforementioned ‘creative’ desktop….   😐


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The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain.

Every now and then I get mistaken for being English.  Happens occasionally, usually when I’ve just met new people or what not.  I’m not sure why.  I guess it is probably something to do with not having a typical Aussie accent and being in possession of a passable vocabulary.  For the record that ‘typical Aussie’ accent is something that makes me absolutely cringe.  I can’t stand that ‘Kath and Kim / Croc Dundee / Steve Irwin’ stereotypical ocker accent that pervades the various media of our popular culture. The only thing worse than Australians over doing it in movies and in various TV shows is hearing it totally murdered altogether by a foreigner  – think Meryl Streep in Evil Angels delivering that ‘Oh my gawd… a deingo tuk moiy baybe!’ … must have been the worst Australian accent I’d ever heard – total disaster.

I don’t know anyone of my acquaintance who actually speaks like that at all – perhaps with the notable exception of some of my country cousins whom I rarely see and have nothing in common with.  When I travel through Europe (even in the UK!) I get taken for English all the time… quickly followed by various speculation as to the possibility of my being either German, Swedish or Norweigan and once even Danish (it’s the blonde hair, blue eyes thing I’m sure).  Anyway the most recent occasion where I was asked if I was English was on the Pain Management Course a little while back.  One of the instructors asked where in England I was from and I had the pleasure of telling him that I was born in Toowoomba and grew up about 30mins drive away.  When he suggested that I sounded like I spoke with an accent, I responded with a cheeky smile that – "No I am not English, I just have a decent vocabulary, an above average grasp of the English vernacular and choose to speak all proper like!"   πŸ˜‰


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Tail of Mouse… :(

I am stoofed.  It’s been a big day o’ driving round BrisVegas – something that is now firmly in my "List of Things I’d Rather Not Do Because I Might Get Dead" and it’s right up the top of the list along with poking Rottweillers and Morris Dancing – which I believe can (and should) be considered potentially fatal in certain company.

It started with the airport to get my Mum and that went okay, I distracted myself with a small pile of car brochures which I was comparing safety specifications on for that part of the drive.  Then out to the shops to do the grocery shopping and checking the fucking eggs yet again.  Then home again home again jiggety jig to bring the groceries home (can you believe the cost increases in most groceries items lately!!?!?!   Unbelievable.)  Then out to Spotlight at Springwood with Mr K cos I’ve given Mum back her tank.  Then back to Carindale for something that Mr K forgot earlier and finally home…. where, after the stressful and anxiety inducing day of driving, I then prepared dinner for the family… all of them.

I’m exhausted, my head hurts and my back is killing me… I’ve taken more than a few pain killers in a manner other than directed (and no… that doesn’t mean I decided to use them as suppositories!) and if the pain persists there’s no point going to see my doctor.  I’ve also had a few glasses of champagne. Which leaves me with the following equation:

Driving = Anxiety + Shopping = Stress + Egg checking = Exhaustion + Analgesics + Champagne = Mousetails!

Yep that’s right.  I’ve got mousetails for the first time in years and that can’t be good.

So if you want to join me and are unfortunate enough to be using a Windows PC… Click on the Start Menu, select the Control Panel, then the Mouse, then select the Pointer Options tab and tick the box that says ‘Display Pointer Trails’ and move the slider to ‘long’ – cos that is roughly what’s happening with my vision about now!  Not good Batman.
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Grace invaders!


Amok! Amok! Amok! Amok!!Β  Someone please remind me to ask them over the day BEFORE the cleaner comes, not the day AFTER.


Monday’s child is fair of face

Tuesday’s child is full of grace
Wednesday’s child is full of woe
Thursday’s child has far to go
Friday’s child is loving and giving
Saturday’s child works hard for a living
But the child that is born on the Sabbath day
is Blithe andΒ  bonny, good and gay…. apparently!

I had a houseful of children this morning and most of the were Tuesday children….. or so their mothers assured me.

‘Full of grace’ my arse!Β  One knocked a bottle of wine off the wine rack (luckily it did not smash), another spent most of her visit jumping on the couch (despite several entreaties on my part for her to refrain from doing so), another spent several minutes smacking my coffee table about with a Transformer (though I know not what offense the coffee table may have offered) and yet another, God bless her cotton socks, upchucked on my Turkish rug!Β  The same Turkish rug her brother peed on when last they came to visit!
askforhelp
Come to think of it… I’m a Tuesday too… obviously came a day early!Β Β  :S
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