Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Aren't they too too adorable? I guess I'll be needing a cute passport cover soon too because I'm going to get to America or die trying. You can live on one kidney right?
I like nice. It's why I read blogs. If everyone turned mean and nasty I wouldn't come here anymore. I just don't want anyone to have to pretend their own opinions don't exist just to make everyone else happy. It stems from my insecurities of constantly letting people treat me like a doormat.
15 years ago I was in a check out line in a grocery store. This woman came up, stood right in front of me and started putting groceries on the conveyor belt. In these situations I never say anything but it always makes me mad and I stew about it for days so at this particular time I decided to be assertive and not let her get away with it. So I very politely said 'Excuse me, I think I was here first'. She turned around and very snappily said 'Well actually I was here first. This is my stuff'. She pointed at some items that were on the end of the belt that I hadn't even noticed. I was absolutely mortified. I embarrassingly apologised and stood there red faced hoping the world would open up and swallow me whole. I have not said a single word to anyone who I think has pushed in front of me since, even those who I know for absolute sure weren't there before me. In 15 years! I know, I'm a total coward.
My sister is worse though. She has way more friends than me. I know this because she is constantly rubbing it in my face as though this little fact somehow makes her better than me. But the reason she has more friends is that she has 'Please walk all over me' tattooed on her forehead (figuratively not literally although sometimes I wonder).
I am a good friend. I will listen to you cry about your latest break up. I will help you move even if its from the middle of nowhere to a 5th floor apartment. I will babysit your kids. I will invite you to all my parties and not ever expect a gift. I will lend you money. I will pick you up when your car has broken down or run out of petrol. I will do all these things for you but if you are never there for me when I need you, I will cut you from my life. I have better things to do than constantly be running around after selfish ungrateful prats who don't appreciate me.
My sister is the exact opposite. Her 'friends' are a bunch of users but she will never stop being friends with these people because she wants (needs!) the friend count on her Face Book page to be a higher number than mine. She has one friend who invites her shopping all the time....but only when she needs to purchase a large item (my sister owns a van and she does not). She has another friend who has moved houses 5 times in the last 2 years. Of course my sister has done all the heavy lifting each time but her friend was unavailable to help her out when she moved last year. She looks after the children of another friend on a regular basis but has never had the favour returned. Another of her friends invites her to all her parties...the ones where you have to buy something that is. Tupperware parties, lingerie parties, kids birthday parties, yes. New Years Eve parties and dinner parties, no.
And how do I know all this? Because everytime I see her she bitches and moans about the latest hurtful thing they've done. I'm not sure if she enjoys being a doormat or if she just likes to whinge. Maybe her need to be surrounded by people is greater than her need for a nice stress free life. Who knows? But these people have been invited over to dinner numerous times. I've never been invited once. She makes time to go out and do things with these people. I've never received an invitation although I've been rejected many times. She'll buy things for their kids, never mine. I think I might have some more cutting to do :)
Saturday, August 29, 2009
But it did get me thinking about replying to comments on my posts. My followers, being the absolutely brilliant and thought provoking writers that they are, often leave comments that I would like to reply to purely because they made me think. But I wasn't sure how I should go about it. I noticed that some people reply to their comments in their own comments section but I thought I have so much trouble keeping up with the original posts, I never go back and check to see if the blog owner actually wrote a reply to my comment so I'm guessing most of you don't either so then you wouldn't see it. Then I thought about posting a reply on your actual blog pages but it seems silly to reply to a comment you made on my blog by putting a comment on your blog about my post. Nobody would understand what I was talking about. So I am just going to write any comments I feel I need to share at the end of my actual posts. I figure you must be receiving my posts to be able to comment in the first place so then you'll actually see my replies.
Did any of that make sense to you at all? I'm sorry, I haven't been sleeping much lately and I'm not even making sense to myself.
Erin - I love you too! Don't get me started on the religious stuff. People act like I'm some sort of freak because I'm not religious. It matters not that I don't look down on them for being religious but they seem to think its ok to condemn me for my beliefs. Must be that good old Christian attitude I hear so much about. Be religious, don't be religious, its all good to me. I don't condemn although apparently I'm going to this thing they call hell. I just don't feel very religious when everyday I see children dying, suffering, being physically and sexually abused, being kept for 18 years in a backyard within a backyard (what the??) Thats just me.
4evernite - I was actually quite flattered when you said I was above you in higher education and self dependence because that is everything I crave to be. I let things hold me back too though. I hold on to certain horrible things from my past which causes me to live in fear in certain situations. Its not good and I'm trying to overcome it. I recently bought a book called The Essential Laws of Fearless Living but I'm too afraid to read it. Ha ha. That last part was actually a joke, I just haven't got around to reading it because I've been reading all these fabulous blogs!
Friday, August 28, 2009
But I digress...
While those are all stories in themselves (quite a few actually), I actually wanted to talk about why I feel out of place here.
I haved lived here (or in areas surrounding here) for 14 years now and I am still yet to meet anyone who is even vaguely like me. For starters there are an awful lot of elderly people. There seems to be a new old age home being built every day. All the women want to do is talk about their medical ailments and put their pensions into the pokie (slot) machines. All the elderly men spend their day in the pub, drinking beer and putting their pensions into the pokies. I don't drink or gamble and I like to keep my medical problems to myself so score 0 for having anything in common with them.
Then we have the bogans whose uniform is tight black jeans, flannelette shirt and of course, your standard goatee. While flannelette shirts are comfy in bed at night, I can't grow enough facial hair for a small moustache let alone a full blown goatee. I also don't like car parts on my lawn or sitting on a ratty old sofa on my front porch making lewd comments to everyone who walks past wearing a skirt. I also have all of my own teeth. So score 0 on the compatibility scale.
Then we have the young mums. Now of course not all young mums are the same. I'm sure plenty work or go to school and they look after their children just fine. I just haven't seen any around here. Now we do have kids in common. Unfortunately I'm not too fond of dropping my kids off to anyone who will take them while I dress like a whore and go clubbing and cracking onto other people's boyfriends. Its just not me. Compatibility score : 0
We also have a lot of single mums around here. I am a single mum. You would think this would be the perfect category for me. And believe me I have tried to get along with this crowd. But all they want to do is talk about their kids and smoke. 'So read any good books lately?' 'No but little Johnny read his first book the other day. The Little Engine That Could. Isn't that just precious?' ** Puff puff ** How about movies? 'No but we were approached by a talent scout the other day that said Little Johnny was just born to be in the movies. He gets his looks from me. Isn't he adorable?' ** Puff puff ** Any prospect of anything exciting happening to you at all in the foreseeable future? 'No, its all about Little Johnny and what Little Johnny wants. I have absolutely no bloody identity of my own!!!!' ** Puff puff ** Grrrr.... I love my kids like crazy but I also like when they are at school and I have hobbies and other interests to fill up my life. And I don't want to bore other people with the little things that my kids do that are too adorable to me but aren't really of any interest to other people. And I don't smoke so there's another zero.
Lastly, we have the mothers of my kids friends. My kids go to private school in the next suburb over and most of the mothers live there. For some reason they think their suburb is Beverly Hills and my suburb is Beirut. The houses there are only around $50,000 more than mine but they don't have any back yards. They are all squished in there on top of each other. I like my big backyard even though I am often too busy to mow the lawn. My kids like the big backyard too. They earn about the same as me but I don't spend my money on big flashy things. I don't have a credit card, I don't hire purchase anything. I like to go to sleep at night feeling good that I am not in debt. They are in it up to their eyeballs with the house and the school and the new cars and their kids walking around with the latest mobile phones. It's all a big charade...I know it, they know it. One of them loses their job and they lose the lot. But they look down their nose at me because my car isn't as new as theirs or I didn't go as far away on my last holiday. One of these woman (that I know of, there are probably more) has her 9 and 10 year old daughters walk home by themselves everyday to an empty house. How do I know this? Because they make it known to everyone within earshot. One actually rang me yesterday and asked if she could come to my house after school because she was going to be alone in the house and was scared. She did this on a mobile phone in front of the school with untold amounts of people walking past her. I only hope that a paedophile doesn't walk within earshot and follow her home one day. I might not have a fancy car or a house in their suburb but I pick my kids up from school everyday and I'm able to answer the phone without screening for debt collectors. So obviously I have nothing in common with them either.
I used to think that there was no-one like me. Until I started reading blogs. I no longer feel alone. There are several blogs that I read that make me think 'why are you writing about my life/the way I feel/what happened to me/what I think and believe?' I hope that I can meet some of them in person one day so I'll finally get to know what it feels like to understand someone and have them understand me. I just hope that if I do meet them, I don't end up disliking them because they're too much like me. What would that say about me????
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
So why am I bringing this all up again? Because there was another article about it today. Apparently the blogger called the model a "psychotic, lying, whoring ... skank" which is much worse than what I had been lead to believe. But now the blogger is suing Google for releasing her name! Google was forced to by the courts but, as 4evernite says, why have the anonymous option if the anonymity part of it doesn't work?
I thought the Blogger put forward some very good points but my favourite part was when the model's lawyers said 'If we had thought for a minute that the Google case would have brought more attention to the anonymous blogger's site, we never would have started it.' Yeah right.....
Friday, August 21, 2009
Read the article here
She wants to know the bloggers name so she can sue them. This got me thinking....
First I tried to remember how many people I have called a skank either in my posts or in comments on other people's posts. Did I name names? Was it an individual or did I refer to a group of people as skanks? If it was a group of people, could they possibly start a class action against me????
Then I started to think about what this means for bloggers in general. Obviously you're anonymity cannot be guaranteed for a start. What exactly can we and can we not say? If calling someone a skank is crossing the line, what isn't? Isn't skankiness in the eye of the beholder? Or is there an actual definition for it?
Then I started to think about what the court case would actually be like. The blogger would have to prove that the model is a skank. I would love to be in that courtroom for that argument. Dictionary.com defines skank as:
1. A rhythmic dance performed to reggae or ska music, characterized by bending forward, raising the knees, and extending the hands.
2. Disgusting or vulgar matter; filth.
3. One who is disgustingly foul or filthy and often considered sexually promiscuous. Used especially of a woman or girl.//-->
So according to this definition, they have to prove she is either a filthy slut or a dance!
I think we all have our own definition as to what a skank really is. I, for one, think it's pretty skanky when someone flirts outrageously with someone else's boyfriend/husband right in front of them. Other people would not reconcile this with skankiness.
What is your definition of skankiness? And do you ever worry that you're crossing the line with your posts?
Monday, August 17, 2009
First we went to the fabric store. They have set this thing up where the line for the checkout kind of wraps around the two checkouts and nobody is ever sure where to go. The check out furthest away had a girl serving someone else and the check out closest to me had a sales assistant yakking on the phone (surprise!). I didn't want to go around and stand by the one furthest away in case the one closest stopped talking on the phone and served the person behind me so I stood by the sign and waited to see which one would want to take my money first. Not surprisingly, the one who wasn't on the phone opened up first. She yelled across the room at me to go around to the end of her counter in a crabby tone that suggested maybe I was the one with the lower IQ. She scanned my items while constantly scanning the room for more interesting people. So busy was she looking for people who were not me, she didn't even notice when I handed her my money. I just stood there wondering how long it would take for her to notice. I got the feeling that I would have warranted more attention if I'd had a penis. Don't you just love women like that?
Then it was off to the bank. First I went to the teller who told me I'd have to go to the desk to do my transaction. So off to the desk I go to be told I would have to put money into my debit card account in order to complete the transaction. So back to the teller I go, put my money in and return to the desk. Oops, the debit card isn't working; can I go back to the teller, get my money out of the debit card account and into my chequing account? Sure, why not? I only have a life to live, what is that worth these days anyway? So off to the teller again and back to the desk again. Ah relief, it is finally done.
Then to the hardware store where once again it seems as though nobody wants to take my money. Of course only one check out is open and the person in front needs a price check. Can't these people check that there are tags on the product before schlepping it down to the front??? But wait, what is that over there? Is it a check out complete with sales assistant who doesn't seem to be doing anything? No, it's not because this sales assistant is actually doing something....she is gossiping very loudly with another sales assistant who is also not doing anything besides gossiping about her weekend. Given the choice between being served and going home or hearing about some teenagers drunken slutty weekend, I think I'll pick the former. Especially since I've been towing all 4 kids around with me this entire time and they are starting to grate on my nerves. And they also don't want to hear how the sales assistant spent the weekend with her legs wrapped around her head, puking into her own hair...nor do I want them to hear it.
But wait, there's more. I had to pick up a parcel from the post office. I walked in and it was totally empty. I can't tell you what a rare occurence this is. I am beaming from ear to ear at the thought of being served straight away. But then I spot them. The gaggle of hens laughing it up out the back. One looks at me and all of a sudden her face turns into a haggard scowl. I have obviously ruined her whole life by my very existence in that room at that moment. She drags her feet (and her knuckles) over to me, chomping hard on her chewing gum as though they have just sent her down the Green Mile. I politely ask for my parcel and she gives it to me as though she has just done the biggest favour in the world for me and I might have to give her a kidney one day in order to repay her.
I then do the best thing I could have done and go home. Whatever happened to a smile? Whatever happened to helpfulness? Whatever happened to taking pride in your work? I don't know but I miss it and I wish it would come back. Or else I might have to start running errands with hand grenades....
Sunday, August 16, 2009
On a different note, I discovered what my daughter really thinks of me today when she became hysterical after I wouldn't answer her through the bathroom door. She thought I was still in the bath but I had snuck into my bedroom for some peace and quiet. When she called out to me and I didn't answer she became convinced I had fallen asleep in the tub and drowned. Yes, my daughter thinks I am so old and tired that I am unable to keep myself from accidently drowning. How nice...
Thursday, August 13, 2009
There's been quite a few deaths from swine flu in this state. Everytime someone dies they say they had underlying health issues. Who doesn't have an underlying health issue? You can say that about anyone really. What if I had an infection from an ingrown toenail? The news could say that was an underlying health issue. Mild asthma? Scoliosis? They don't ever say what the actual underlying health issue was. It could be something mild for all I know.
I don't know who the child is but I'll keep my fingers crossed that they only get a mild case...and that they don't have an underlying health issue!
I try so hard to like cooking. I really want to be a good cook. But I'm lousy at it, I can't make anything decent and the other day I actually felt rage brewing inside me when I realised I'd have to make dinner (I know, I know, I need help...any information on self help groups for people with kitchen rage would be greatly appreciated).
The thing I hate most about it is when I can't figure out what the ingredients are. This is usually because its an American recipe and we Australians have different words for different things.
Summer from Sublime Happiness (a very cute and funny blog that you should definitely check out) wrote about buying a bacon and egg biscuit from Macca's. In Australia, a biscuit is a cookie like thing, like an Oreo (an Oreo is the only cookie I can think of that American's would know). I can't imagine sticking bacon, egg and cheese in between 2 cookies so I'm thinking that a biscuit means something else over there. I've also heard in an American TV show before about sopping up gravy with biscuits and at the time I thought it sounded really disgusting.
So I asked Summer to explain what it was. She told me and it sounded yummy so I looked on the internet for recipes thinking I could try to make my own. I was going to brave the kitchen, make these biscuit things that nobody I know has ever eaten before and I was going to take lots of pictures to put on this blog so everybody would be really proud that I managed to bake such good looking and delicious biscuits. Of course by now you have probably realised that it didn't quite work out that way since I am obviously being sarcastic.
The first step in the recipe says to sift all the dry ingredients together. That doesn't sound at all hard except they don't tell you what the dry ingredients are!
Next it says to add the shortening. WTH? If we have shortening here, I have never heard of it. I don't know if we call it something else or if it is called shortening here and I've just been walking past it in the supermarket every week for my entire life, totally oblivious to its existence.
The next step is to add the buttermilk. Yes I have heard of buttermilk I'm just not sure where to get it from. Is it with the normal milk? Is this another item that has not crossed my radar?
This is just all too hard. The kitchen will not be getting a visit from me today...
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
I still can't think of what COAO could possibly mean. Usually when I forget something it would have popped back into my head by now but this one hasn't. I can't for the life of me figure out what it stands for and its driving me nuts. Does anyone have any guesses?
P.S The pic has nothing to do with this post. It just pleases me to look at it ;P
Mr 6: I think I have eczema
Me : You don't have eczema
Mr 6: But B has eczema
Me : That's because B's dad has eczema. Your parents don't have eczema.
Mr 6 : Well what do you have then?
Me : I don't have anything. I'm perfectly fine.
Mr 6 : Then what caused your brain damage?
I sincerely hope he was talking about my recent spate of headaches :)
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Here is a sample of my list of ideas:
books - classic
naughty kids (COAO)
What the??? I don't know what any of this means. Why do I write these things down and assume I'll remember what they were about? I know I have no memory left. Just another reason to pine for the good old days when I still had half a brain....aahhh good times. I guess I'll have to be more specific in the future :)
What would you call a woman who was smart, funny, beautiful, giving, had a great personality, job, basically someone who has it all. I can't think of the word.
Monday, August 10, 2009
I think it did probably have a lot to do with stress. Most people think that stress is caused by having too many things to do but it can even be caused by not having enough to do or by the gap between how your life is and how you want it to be. I'm constantly walking around with my jaw clenched so its not surprising that my body said 'enough!' So this morning I tried to meditate...
I've never been into meditation because it is of my understanding that you are supposed to be able to clear your mind of everything. This seems an impossible task as my mind is constantly racing even when I'm asleep. However, for the good of my mental health, I decided to give it a shot.
I decided to do it outside because I wanted to be at one with nature and there were no kids there. Unfortunately the first thing I had to do was go back inside and get a blanket because there wasn't one dry spot to sit. So then I sat on my blanket, crossed my legs, closed my eyes and began thinking peaceful thoughts. Or tried to. 'Where did I put the keys when I got home? I have to remember to ring those rip off merchants at the bank. Mr 16 better be at school. What is that smell? I don't think I have anything for dinner tonight. Did that bastard next door just hit my fence with his whipper snipper?????' Then I thought that maybe this was what all that ohmming was supposed to be about. Maybe it helped to drown out the racing thoughts. So I started ohmming my little heart out. Ohmmm ohmmm ohmmm, its raining! And the wet grass has seeped through the blanket and my butt is wet. So much for peaceful meditation.
So I came inside, lay on my bed and decided to try a relaxation technique that I read about in a time management book a few years ago. You're supposed to take deep breaths and imagine blue air going into your mouth and down into your belly. I imagine pink because its my favourite colour. I think blue is supposed to calm you but my mind does what it wants. Anyway, then when you're feeling calm you're supposed to imagine getting into an elevator and pushing the button to go down. You count backwards from 10 and when you get to 1 the door opens to your happy place. You're supposed to take care of your problems while you're there, get back into the elevator, count back up and open your eyes when the door opens. However I tend to linger in my happy place. When my elevator doors open, I am in my dream house (that I will build one day!). The floor to ceiling windows are open (don't ask me how, they just are) and a beautiful breeze is blowing the white sheer curtains in a sexy music video clip kind of way. Its 21 degrees (celcius for you American readers, I am not freezing in my happy place :) The room is empty except for a black recliner in the middle of the room and Kiefer Sutherland is sitting in it. Hmmmmm! Now that beats meditating in soggy grass anyday...
Where is your imaginary happy place?
Saturday, August 8, 2009
I truly believe that the universe is constantly pointing us in the right direction with gentle taps on the shoulder. I also believe if you don't listen to the gentle taps, it will hit you in the head with a brick!
I have been incredibly lazy! No beating around the bush here. No excuses. I have been just plain lazy. I have a to do list a mile long but lately I have not had the motivation to even look at it. The universe gently tapped me on the shoulder; scales were creeping up, to do list was getting longer, kids were yelling at me because I didn't fill out a form for after school activities, skin was getting spotty from too many take aways and not enough home cooking. But did I listen to these subtle signs? Of course not! I waited for the brick...
The brick hit me on Monday. I had the worst headache I've ever had in my life. Tuesday was the same, stayed in bed with the light and the tv off. Wednesday didn't get any better. Thursday I went to the doctor who told me to stay in bed with the lights off...duh! When it wasn't gone on Friday, I did the same thing...surely it had to go away soon right?
By Saturday morning I had had enough! I still had the headache but I wasn't staying in bed anymore. I read everyone else's blogs and they were all out having a good time, living life, making memories and I couldn't stand it anymore. That is what I should've been doing before I got hit with the brick. So that's what I'm going to do now, headache or no headache.
I am going to pay attention to the universe and listen to what it is telling me because I don't want to know what it will hit me with next!
So what about you? Are you ignoring the gentle taps or have you already been hit with the brick? And has anyone ever had a headache with stabbing pains for this long? Any advice on how to get rid of it would be greatly appreciated...
Friday, August 7, 2009
One of the rules of that option was that he couldn't leave school until he got a job first. So today he went to school. His class went to a Science & Engineering Careers Expo (which I believe is the only reason he even went to school). Something must have happened there because he came home and told me he wanted to stay at school and he wanted to improve his grades! I am extremely pleased. I guess everything works out in the end.
They are real sweethearts when I am unwell. They give me lots of hugs and kisses and my daughters send me 'I love you so much' text messages.
There's not much to blog about when you've just been asleep all day so I'll leave you with this:
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Saturday, August 1, 2009
They were so well behaved and got along like a house on fire. I am so proud of them..