Happy Birthday to ME

Happy Birthday to the most awesome person .... ME!

Right, I am off to lunch with the family, then off to drink ... its a hard life, but y'know

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to all ...
i am getting in early this year, cause i will forget otherwise or not care, depending the amount of vodka ...
soooooooo, may all your santa's be peeping toms, and brings you what you REALLY want - not the crap he got you last year!

The Bucket Suprise

I was cleaning up today, and I came across a lovely surprise. It was a gift to me from me that I had completely forgotten about. It was ‘margarita in a bucket’.

I can’t actually remember when I bought it, though the vague hazy feeling is that I bought it for Christmas last year. I remember making one up to drink for Xmas, so the feeling is I bought two so I would not run out. Anyways, I found it and that put an end to any cleaning that I was going to do. Procrastination in all its fully fledged beauty! Like the time years ago I found drugs under my bed when I was cleaning. End. Of. Cleaning. The next time I attempted the cleaning, I found a half drunk bottle of vodka under the bed. I don’t remember how that got there either. The cleaning was then promptly forgotten again. I was most gleeful the 3rd time I went to clean, cause who knew what the procrastination fairies had left as a surprise. But alas, lightening doesn’t strike in the same place under the bed 3 times, proving thus, that the fairies hate me and refuse to help me wallow in debauchery. Bastards

Spam

both arms have mutinied against mebrutes - tired of being limp?
Pilules of lions stamina with her?

I was looking through my spam folder for stray emails that i haven’t received, and near wet myself laughing at the absurd titles of this spam. These are my 2 favourites of the moment. I must say, the spammers are getting a little inventive with the titles they choose ...

Songs that incite me to Violence

There are certain songs that I cannot listen to ... like

That fuckin punk rocker with flowers in hair piece of crap shite song. I spent a couple of months travelling in Ireland and it was on EVERY fucking radio station over there. I turn on a radio, and it was there. It was like having food poisoning that I couldn’t get rid of. I left to come back home to Australia, and a week later it was playing on the radio stations here. It fuckin followed me home!!! So I was forced to hear it all over again for the next however fuckin long it stayed on the charts here. And I never understood it either and I mean that by never having heard of punks putting flowers in their hair. Safety pins through noses and ears, and Mohawks for hair, but not ever freaking flowers! Who writes this shite? I wanted to shove those fuckin flowers so far down her throat that she would be farting perfume for the next week. *shudder*

Achy breaky heart incited me to violence. It still does. Achy breaky this you cunt! I want to punch you in the head you mullet headed moron.

That fuckin titanic song. I wish to Christ that song would hit an iceberg and lodge itself there so it can be frozen for all of eternity and never defrost! Actually, anything by Celine Dion and Mariah Carey sends me into a rage and makes me want to put my foot through the radio or throw it across a room. Probably best that I stick to my iPod, cos its stuff I like. Mainstream radio sucks dogs’ balls ...

Another I hate is I will always love you sung by Whitney Houston. It sends me into homicidal frenzies. I want to stab sharp things into people to cheer myself up. Why oh why is it a popular song for men to sing to their girlfriends at karaoke? They are usually drunk and their singing sucks. I know that my singing voice is like a bullfrog on heat, but I certainly don’t inflict it on the public. That’s a home job, like masturbation – it’s not polite to do it in public.

Double Choc Chip Mint Frappuccino

A double choc chip mint frappuccino (with whipped cream, thank you very much!) and a resignation letter. Can life get much better than that? Sad fuck that I am, but as I say, it’s the simple pleasures and wants for a girl like me.

Yesterday I handed in my resignation letter for my current job – YEE FUCKIN HA!!! I cannot stop grinning and my cheeks hurt cos of it. I have been doing quite a few little happy dances and skippings all day that my boobs hurt from all that jiggling. My current employers are a pack of cunts and should be burnt at the stake or at the very least, shot by a firing squad (I wanted a French Revolution with effigy burnings and making guillotines fashionable again, but the idea was outvoted) – but do I care? Nope, I am outta there with what little sanity, soul and dreams that I have left. No more Christmas carols, no more arsehole customers bitching. (For fuck sake, it’s not like it’s a fuckin miracle that Christmas is here, it’s on the same date EVERY FUCKIN YEAR! It doesn’t leap out from behind a door and yell “SURPRISE”. The shops have been advertising the freakin fact since September. Fuckheads. Get your act together). After a few years in retail, you really hate Christmas and all it entails – but this year I find myself in a more pleasant mood. Isn’t it amazing what quitting will do for the soul? I no longer want to shoot stereo speakers and people singing carols, I no longer want to stab people for saying ‘now you have a merry Christmas’ after they have yelled at me for the past 5 minutes cos we are sold outta the shite they are after, and I no longer want to stab people for being complete fuckwits. (I still want to do the last part, doesn’t matter what time of the year is). I find myself smiling fondly at small children with their excitement over Christmas and not wishing that Santa will bring them a gimp gag to shut them up. I also find myself going out of my way to find crunchy leaves to jump on instead of avoid people and snarling. My general mood has improved. I am finding that I am no longer wrapping presents haphazardly in brown paper (if I could be arsed to wrap them in the first place) ... well, I still wrap in brown paper, but this year I have stuck pretty bows on! See, it’s the little things that make all the difference. Like quitting a shitty job ...

*note to self – see, Santa doesn’t hate you ... he brought you a new job!

Eric Schweig

I was on my way to work to the other day and got to thinking ... about Eric Schweig. You know the Canadian actor that played Uncas in ‘Last of the Mohicans’. I found him far more attractive than Daniel Day Lewis – those dark eyes that bore into you and knew exactly what dirty thoughts you were having about him. He has these wonderfully expressive dark eyes and a sexy voice to match. I’m telling you, that voice is made for sex lines, its pure porn for the ears! (fuck, I’d pay 20 bucks a minute to listen to that!) Oh yeah, goose bumps when this man speaks with that molten chocolately voice of his and those eyes, god, you could be lost for days looking into them! He was way way hotter than Daniel Day Lewis.

So, I got to thinking about him, and wondered if he was still alive, still hot and most of all, still worthy of all those erotic thoughts that I had about him that involved me, him, chocolate ganache and a waterfall. Or was it a spa?

Anyhow, doing a little googlin brought me up some results. I dunno why I thought he could be dead, it’s just the way my mind ticks when it’s stuck on a bus in peak hour surrounded by dipshits. I probably should check up on Lauren Bacall too.

In any case, he is indeed alive and kicking and very busy in doing his, well, everything! Bloody hell, he’s busier than a hooker on half price night!

When he is not slaving over his art (he hand carves these shit hot traditional Inuit spirit masks and various other bits and pieces - with a chainsaw and knives!), making music (he plays bass, guitar and drums) and acting (Big Eden, the Broken Chain) - he is found working with the disadvantage youth at street level as an active volunteer and speaking to the youth of Aboriginal and Native backgrounds about alcohol abuse, adoption, homelessness and suicide prevention. In 2008 he received an honorary Doctor of Education degree from the Nipissing University for all the work he does with the disadvantaged young of Canada. One wonders if he makes anytime for himself with all the various projects he is involved in!

I tips me hat to you sunshine, you get 10 gold stars and angel wings for each and every thing that you do. And yes, you are still involved in all those erotic thoughts about waterfalls and chocolate. And yes, you are still waaaaaaaaayyy hotter than Daniel Day Lewis.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have a date with the DVD player and an Eric flick.



Eric Schweig then


Eric Schweig now

Insomnia

It’s late at night again, and the insomnia goblin is still fuckin lurking around – the little shite. I would much prefer the sandman, but it appears that he is off god knows where, probably supping on his own wares and shagging the tooth fairy. Bastard.

Vegetarians

Grrrr, if one more person tells me to become vegetarian, I am going to rip their balls off and staple ‘em to a tree as a warning! If god had wanted me to be a vegetarian, he woulda given me buck teeth, big ears and a little pompom tail.

Fact 1 – I like meat.

Fact 2 – I REALLY like meat.

Fact 3 – FUCK OFF!

Bollox

Don’t you hate it when you sneeze, forget to cover your mouth and you snot on the computer screen. It now means that I now have to clean the screen and I was hoping to put it off til I could be bothered. Damn it.

Pearl Jam

Pearl Jam, yay, Pearl Jam!!! I saw them in concert the other night, and fuck me, they still sound shit hot, even after all these years! My grunge roots came to the fore this evening, lemme tell you! It was most excellent seeing them live - Eddie Vedder’s voice still has that gravel range that we expect from him, and the way he holds his hands, like a cerebral palsy victim. Ahhh, it takes me back. Back to the days of my late teens and early twenties. I might be older, more cynical, experienced and maybe a little wiser, but the music took me back. Listening to their songs reminded me of things, people and places that are my past and how it has shaped my future. You guys still fucking rock!!!

Toilet Humour

You know you are having a cracker of a time searching on the internet, when you stumble upon a web site all about the where about of public toilets (along with rate my dick, the missing sex scenes from pride and prejudice and a ‘dismember me plush zombie’ – I have varied choices of viewing, and weirdly enough, these page results came about cause I was looking for cemeteries. Odd. )
As I was saying, public toilets. Now, as one who has had no hesitation about where I pee when desperate, this came as a somewhat revelation to my bladder. All this time I have squatted and nearly fell over in rocky terrain, hoped I was never bitten on the arse by a snake and hoping against hope that I never peed on a bull ants nest (this has happened to a friend and I nearly wet myself laughing, though she never saw the funny side), and all I had to do was search this site to be told where all the public loos are in Australia. Yessiree, its federal web site. Nice to know where my tax dollars are going. I can even log into this site to see what I have saved from previous trips (man that sounds so wrong on so many levels!), plan a trip (all around toilets, yay!), and display your toilets, places and searches. It’s like a fucked up ‘choose your own adventure’. Why hadn’t I found this bloody site when I went to Tasmania? It would’ve saved me a whole lotta bladder pain and scouting for the perfect place to pee. You know what I mean? Making sure that there was no one else around, making sure that there was gonna be no trucks or other cars going past and spotting my exposed lily white arse cheeks and most of all, trying not to piss on my own foot. The bain of every woman while travelling and camping. They need a website showing you how not to piss on your own foot. Scratch that last sentence, I just googled ‘how not to pee on your own foot’ –result is this
http://www.ehow.com/how_2309540_pee-woods-keep-dignity.html

Hmmm, I obviously have been doing wrong all these fuckin years. But that’s the key, dignity. Of which I must have none. I must have lost it many years ago, cause I kept pissing on my own foot. At least I don’t have athletes’ foot - lots of piss smelling shoes, but no dignity and athletes foot. It’s a trade off I am willing to make for the greater good of me. Men piss on their own feet too, ok so they are drunk and their aim is shite at times, but they have been known to piss on the old foot falcon too. Lucky bastards though, being able to pee standing up, write their name in the snow (when women try, they end doing moves like a Mr Whippy ice cream machine!), how high up a wall can you pee contests and trying to hit items that are far away or bobbing up and down in water. Unless you are that unfortunate bloke that got bitten on the willy by a brown snake in Northern Queensland. All men cringed and grabbed their dicks and moaned, while women had a laugh. Hehe just another day in sunny Queensland.
Anyways, the moral of the story is, he should’ve looked up this federally funded site, and found out where all the public dunnies are. Would’ve saved a WHOLE lot of embarrassment and ribbing from his mates.

For your viewing pleasure, go to http://www.toiletmap.gov.au/default.aspx

Miss Midnyte has a dolly who is up the duff

Shit on a stick - you can find, buy and sell any amount of crap on eBay. One is constantly awestruck by the amount of stuff that is for sale. Picture it, its two in the morning, and the insomnia goblin has struck again. You are looking at random shite on the internet, and you decide to go to eBay, and type random words into the search line. You type in ‘pregnant doll’, cause you feel like it, and lo and behold there are a few listings for pregnant dolls. You see a barbie knock off and you think to yourself ‘I need a pregnant dolly for my art’. So you buy her. $15 later, you are now the proud owner of a knock off knocked up barbie type thing called Steffi – and when she arrives in the post, you cannot for the life of you remember what you wanted her for. Stupid two in the morning ideas.

Here are some pics of Steffi and Boniface ...

Yelp Day

Have you ever had one of those days when you look in the mirror and you actually yelp at the sight of yourself, so you studiously ignore and avoid all mirrors and reflective surfaces for the day? Mirrors suck

Happy Birthday

Today was my niece’s 6th birthday. She is rapidly growing up, her vocabulary is vastly expanding, and she is almost finished her first year of ‘big school’.

Take for example the talk we had tonight when I went outside on the veranda and she followed me out (they say don’t smoke around kids, but they don’t mention what to do when they follow you around like a sticky fart)

Me – how does it feel being 6 now kiddo?
Kiddo - *shrugs* ok.
M – You don’t like being 6? It’s a good age.
K – There is so much that I have to do
M – That’s what happens when you grow up
K – it’s the responsibilities. Daddy says I have them now. I have to keep a look out for toddler and baby (her younger sisters, aged 18months and 4months respectively), and help out around the house
M – Well, that’s what being a big sister is all about. I was a big sister to daddy when we were little
K – *squinty 6 year old look* I don’t believe you
M – Why? You don’t believe that I am a big sister to daddy?
K – No, cos daddy is older than you!
M – Ha ha, bless you my child, but I am older than daddy. It’s cos I am short isn’t it?
K – Yes. I’m almost as tall as you; soon I will be TALLER than you
M – Thanks, that makes ME feel better about myself
K – *evil giggles* haha
M - Hmm yea. Anyhow, the point is, we all grow up and have responsibilities that we don’t like to do, but have to do it anyways. And on the plus side, you will be taller than me!
K - I can’t deal with all the crap (Wha? Not my influence surely as a loving aunt with a big mouth, and with lipstick and lollies in my handbag) *waves arms around expansively* there has to be more to life than this.
M - Uh oh. What crap are we talking about?
K - I had to set the table last night
M – Yeah?
K - And I had to eat ALL my dinner before I could leave the table
M – Uhh huh
K - ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL of my dinner. *wails* you’re not listening to me!
M – I am listening. Just wait til you reach adulthood kiddo, you wish that setting the table and eating ALLLLLLL your dinner was the least of your problems.
K - You mean it gets worse? *evil eye*
M - Yup, just wait til you get a crappy job to pay the bills, and you struggle to make a living as an artist.
K - Is your life crap?
M - Babycakes, It’s a great big pile of steaming crap at times. So enjoy the all the good times of being under 12
K - I don’t want to grow up, there are too many responsibilities. I want someone to read me a bedtime story forever.


So happy birthday my beautiful niece, may all your years be like reading bedtime stories!




a most excellent birthday present to herself, a beard drawn onto her doll!

Dishes and Shite

I hate doing the dishes. I would rather lick windows clean. I will quite happily do your laundry, but I really really hate doing the dishes. You go looking through the house for dishes, think that you have them all, finish the load, turn around and a bowl and spoon have beamed down from god knows where, just to give you the shits. This is also the very reason why, when I was living on my own in Sydney, I survived on a diet of vegemite toast. Or for a change it was peanut butter and very rarely, raspberry jam or honey. I ate over the sink, so I didn’t have to use a plate, or I ate off paper towels. Those paper towels were a godsend; I buttered and slathered my toast on it, ate off it then threw the bugger out. No mess, no fuss. Some weeks I would use every dish in the house and refuse to do the dishes, and when i gave myself the shits (or bribed myself, whichever came first) cause I hadn’t washed up, I would load everything up in the shower cubicle and shower the dishes with a crapload of dishwash liquid and clean them that way. God, I lived like a bachelor in those days. It is a complete fallacy that women are the clean freaks in houses. The only think that I am pedantic about is the toilet bowl. I am like a nazi when it comes to the toilet bowl. The rest of the house can go shit, but the toilet bowl has to be pristine. Why? I hate throwing up at the best of times, and when I stick my head down the porcelain telephone, I DO NOT want to be staring into skid marks on the inner bowl. I am already throwing my guts up; I don’t want to be there any longer than I have to. My stomach is in turmoil and looking at the grottiness of the toilet make me heave up more.