**pulls out a fresh tissue**
H and her Youth Group went off to the snow at 4.30 this afternoon. Nearly five hours later they realised they were not where they were supposed to be. Someone forgot to tell the drivers that they were staying in Turangi and when H sent me a txt at 9.02, they were just leaving Taihape.
Taihape? WTF?
An hour+ further south than was desirable. In the dark; in the cold; without a clue.
Several txts back and forward discussing where they were and making sure they were indeed on Highway 1 and not National Park route and wanting to know "how long to Turangi", a Google search and a 2 phone calls later, they were confirmed to finally be heading in the right direction back up Highway 1. Last txt from H was "here nw nite love you".
A good lesson in planning a trip in daylight and pre-trip communication. Especially by the drivers. At least wasn't snowing on the Desert Rd - I'm sure she would have mentioned it.
As an aside, modern communication technologies do make some things so easy, eh. Here they are rocking on down the road at probably 80k in the dark on a strange road and the drivers don't even know where they are going and these upstanding Church Youth leaders are probably trusting God was taking care of them tonight when in reality it was Telecom, a satellite or 2 and Google courtesy of 50,000 years of Geekdom.
Geeks rock, eh.
PS - I'm back. ;0)
Friday, July 10, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Where's the oinkment
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
Missed me? I missed you :-)
I got sick - a flu thing. I couldn't talk, I couldn't swallow for days. I'd drag myself out of bed and pretend to take care of business then crash back into it wishing I could stay there. I had high fevers, MS spasticity for Africa and at times couldn't walk, stand or lie down from the pain. My legs gave up along with my voice and I got a wee bit stuck one morning when the kids were asleep and I couldn't "do" for myself and needed help but couldn't get anyone's attention.
It wasn't great so I am going to get a personal alarm that will wake the dead which probably means it will wake sleeping teenagers as well.
Old people, young people, everyone still wanted a piece of the sick, middle aged person's pie and the plate came up empty.
Highlight? The sexy doc at the after hours clinic where I ended up being taken when I couldn't cope and a chest infection was looming to go with the throat infection.
Two weeks down, my anti-b's have run out, my chest infection is almost gone and I can almost talk without straining a foofoo valve but dayam, it's been a rough few weeks. I've barely even walked outside, let alone achieved any gardening.
Other selected items of importance:
Wacko Jacko snuffed it and so did Farrah Fawcett. So did lots of other people around the world, but they weren't famous so I can't tell you who they were.
Thomas has an abscess on the side of his face by his whiskers but decided doctoring wasn't required. It's almost gone. He also decided that eating at only one residence wasn't enough so has been dining in style at the neighbours before coming home for dinner and bed with Ads. Except for one night when staying by their fire was preferable to cold tootsies in the frost.
Frosts have been extreme and a pain in the bum washing ice off the car in the mornings.
I finally bought a new oven, but I haven't had a chance to get a sparkie to come and install it yet.
Best of all, I finally got to see the new Star Trek movie and it was GOOD.
At least I didn't have swine flu - I have no idea where I would have stashed all that pork.
Missed me? I missed you :-)
I got sick - a flu thing. I couldn't talk, I couldn't swallow for days. I'd drag myself out of bed and pretend to take care of business then crash back into it wishing I could stay there. I had high fevers, MS spasticity for Africa and at times couldn't walk, stand or lie down from the pain. My legs gave up along with my voice and I got a wee bit stuck one morning when the kids were asleep and I couldn't "do" for myself and needed help but couldn't get anyone's attention.
It wasn't great so I am going to get a personal alarm that will wake the dead which probably means it will wake sleeping teenagers as well.
Old people, young people, everyone still wanted a piece of the sick, middle aged person's pie and the plate came up empty.
Highlight? The sexy doc at the after hours clinic where I ended up being taken when I couldn't cope and a chest infection was looming to go with the throat infection.
Two weeks down, my anti-b's have run out, my chest infection is almost gone and I can almost talk without straining a foofoo valve but dayam, it's been a rough few weeks. I've barely even walked outside, let alone achieved any gardening.
Other selected items of importance:
Wacko Jacko snuffed it and so did Farrah Fawcett. So did lots of other people around the world, but they weren't famous so I can't tell you who they were.
Thomas has an abscess on the side of his face by his whiskers but decided doctoring wasn't required. It's almost gone. He also decided that eating at only one residence wasn't enough so has been dining in style at the neighbours before coming home for dinner and bed with Ads. Except for one night when staying by their fire was preferable to cold tootsies in the frost.
Frosts have been extreme and a pain in the bum washing ice off the car in the mornings.
I finally bought a new oven, but I haven't had a chance to get a sparkie to come and install it yet.
Best of all, I finally got to see the new Star Trek movie and it was GOOD.
At least I didn't have swine flu - I have no idea where I would have stashed all that pork.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
In his own words
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
Adam came out of the kitchen tonight and said this;
"I hate cat food containers. No matter where you go in the room, the cats on them are looking at you".
I would have thought that was a good enough reason to get off his butt and put the shopping away, eh. He's right, though. I think it's a conspiracy...
Adam came out of the kitchen tonight and said this;
"I hate cat food containers. No matter where you go in the room, the cats on them are looking at you".
I would have thought that was a good enough reason to get off his butt and put the shopping away, eh. He's right, though. I think it's a conspiracy...
Friday, June 5, 2009
4am wake up call
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
From this
to this
All I had to do was elbow him in the rib and he was all lovey dovey.
No wonder I can't get any sleep at night!
From this
to this
All I had to do was elbow him in the rib and he was all lovey dovey.
No wonder I can't get any sleep at night!
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Pouring
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
It's a beautiful sunny day outside and I am sitting inside fixing the kids bloody computer. It fell over with a virus a month or so back, a nasty one and I just couldn't be bothered cleaning up the mess left behind when one of them visited something dodgy on the net and Avast let me down and didn't stop the infiltration of cyber-germ warfare. They have been forced to use the old, slooowww dual boot linux/XP box in the meantime and I finally got sick of the whining and started fixing it.
And fixing it.
And, well, you get the picture.
Their trouble free, goes and goes and goes old Compaq box just didn't want to go. I got the damn thing working fine except for a small problem of damaged components that wouldn't open ports to the outside world - ie no internet. It wouldn't let me repair them. Replacing them didn't work. I couldn't restore their disk image because Ghost couldn't read the hard disk.
It wouldn't even let me reinstall XP. Bastard thing.
So I took the hint that their main drive isn't a happy camper, stripped it back to the chassis and rearranged all their hardware, cleaned every nook and cranny of it, replaced all the proprietory Compaq screws that only a butter knife will undo with proper screws, replaced the CD writer with a DVD writer, put another spare hard drive in as a master drive and now, finally, it is installing XP like a good little computer on one partition of the drive.
Then all I have to do is move the data on partition #2 to another drive, format it, repartition the disk to be full size minus a small pagefile partition and reinstall all their multitude of games and apps and God knows what else.
A couple of days pissing about will have cured the whining, whilst the fighting over whose turn it is on the PC will crank up again.
A girl just can't win.
I think I'll go hide in my room and write a shopping list - it's time to replace my nearly 6 year old generic PC with a new, built by me jobbie and consign this one to being a movie and music network media server tucked away under my desk and thus free up a shit load of hard drive space on all the machines.
All I gotta do is figure out how to pay for the components... and not fuck it up during construction!
It's a beautiful sunny day outside and I am sitting inside fixing the kids bloody computer. It fell over with a virus a month or so back, a nasty one and I just couldn't be bothered cleaning up the mess left behind when one of them visited something dodgy on the net and Avast let me down and didn't stop the infiltration of cyber-germ warfare. They have been forced to use the old, slooowww dual boot linux/XP box in the meantime and I finally got sick of the whining and started fixing it.
And fixing it.
And, well, you get the picture.
Their trouble free, goes and goes and goes old Compaq box just didn't want to go. I got the damn thing working fine except for a small problem of damaged components that wouldn't open ports to the outside world - ie no internet. It wouldn't let me repair them. Replacing them didn't work. I couldn't restore their disk image because Ghost couldn't read the hard disk.
It wouldn't even let me reinstall XP. Bastard thing.
So I took the hint that their main drive isn't a happy camper, stripped it back to the chassis and rearranged all their hardware, cleaned every nook and cranny of it, replaced all the proprietory Compaq screws that only a butter knife will undo with proper screws, replaced the CD writer with a DVD writer, put another spare hard drive in as a master drive and now, finally, it is installing XP like a good little computer on one partition of the drive.
Then all I have to do is move the data on partition #2 to another drive, format it, repartition the disk to be full size minus a small pagefile partition and reinstall all their multitude of games and apps and God knows what else.
A couple of days pissing about will have cured the whining, whilst the fighting over whose turn it is on the PC will crank up again.
A girl just can't win.
I think I'll go hide in my room and write a shopping list - it's time to replace my nearly 6 year old generic PC with a new, built by me jobbie and consign this one to being a movie and music network media server tucked away under my desk and thus free up a shit load of hard drive space on all the machines.
All I gotta do is figure out how to pay for the components... and not fuck it up during construction!
Monday, May 25, 2009
Plumb going dry
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
I haven't done anything at all interesting in the past week. The gas hot water tank shat itself and we had no hot water for over a week, so we all got to see the inside of a few of other people's bathrooms whilst begging ablution facilities from those who did have hot water. The best part of 2 grand later, our new hot water tank was fitted and all nice and hot (well, what's the point of cold, hmmm?) when the greater pressure of the new system blew the hot tap fitting apart in the top floor "kitchen". Then all the water had to be turned off and the mess mopped up.
Currently, that fitting is plugged off while we make a few modifications to the existing pipes and fit some new hardware up there, making it more practically usable in the long term. This means we finally have the freedom (yes that's what it feels like after so long) to stand nekkid in a hot shower and luxuriate in hot water for as long as one wants. I didn't realise how much I loved a nice hot shower until I couldn't have one on demand.
Tonight, I made a yummy chicken curry with poppadoms for dinner. Not a bit of it was left over and everyone cleaned their plates with gusto.
Two hours later, I was emptying my stomach regularly for an hour or so with much greater gusto when something in the dinner (I'm picking it's the poppadoms) disagreed with my cast iron constitution and finally sent me crawling into bed with a basin, moaning and groaning like the broken arsed sad thing I was at the time. Hours later, I don't feel sick any more but I feel damned delicate and in need of pampering and coffee. Seeing as how the kids had all gone to bed by the time I woke up, I've made my own coffee and gone without the personal pampering a good coffee-making child can give.
Oh, such a sad existence. I've gone right off poppadoms after only one taste. Thank the Goddess, Ads is on exam week so isn't off to school at sparrow's fart in the cold every day and I can have a few sleep ins. All this stress just knocks me flat.
I haven't done anything at all interesting in the past week. The gas hot water tank shat itself and we had no hot water for over a week, so we all got to see the inside of a few of other people's bathrooms whilst begging ablution facilities from those who did have hot water. The best part of 2 grand later, our new hot water tank was fitted and all nice and hot (well, what's the point of cold, hmmm?) when the greater pressure of the new system blew the hot tap fitting apart in the top floor "kitchen". Then all the water had to be turned off and the mess mopped up.
Currently, that fitting is plugged off while we make a few modifications to the existing pipes and fit some new hardware up there, making it more practically usable in the long term. This means we finally have the freedom (yes that's what it feels like after so long) to stand nekkid in a hot shower and luxuriate in hot water for as long as one wants. I didn't realise how much I loved a nice hot shower until I couldn't have one on demand.
Tonight, I made a yummy chicken curry with poppadoms for dinner. Not a bit of it was left over and everyone cleaned their plates with gusto.
Two hours later, I was emptying my stomach regularly for an hour or so with much greater gusto when something in the dinner (I'm picking it's the poppadoms) disagreed with my cast iron constitution and finally sent me crawling into bed with a basin, moaning and groaning like the broken arsed sad thing I was at the time. Hours later, I don't feel sick any more but I feel damned delicate and in need of pampering and coffee. Seeing as how the kids had all gone to bed by the time I woke up, I've made my own coffee and gone without the personal pampering a good coffee-making child can give.
Oh, such a sad existence. I've gone right off poppadoms after only one taste. Thank the Goddess, Ads is on exam week so isn't off to school at sparrow's fart in the cold every day and I can have a few sleep ins. All this stress just knocks me flat.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Burning desire
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
The snails are at it again, bonking that is and Mrs S has laid a third lot of eggs. God help us.
The butternuts are about ripe; the gardens are almost weeded and pruned; the bath just needs some black polythene, rocks and water to transform into a pond and some fish to make it a fish pond. The gas hot water cylinder is on strike; the mongrel fucking neighbours on the next section over cut our macadamia tree off without asking everyone; there are few MS'y things I'm attempting to come to terms with and I'm not Happy.
I'm not any of the other six dwarves, either, but H could be when she slouches. We don't call her our Evil Little Circus Midget because she looks good in bright colours, you know - we call her that because she's Grumpy.
Being short was just a bonus.
The snails are at it again, bonking that is and Mrs S has laid a third lot of eggs. God help us.
The butternuts are about ripe; the gardens are almost weeded and pruned; the bath just needs some black polythene, rocks and water to transform into a pond and some fish to make it a fish pond. The gas hot water cylinder is on strike; the mongrel fucking neighbours on the next section over cut our macadamia tree off without asking everyone; there are few MS'y things I'm attempting to come to terms with and I'm not Happy.
I'm not any of the other six dwarves, either, but H could be when she slouches. We don't call her our Evil Little Circus Midget because she looks good in bright colours, you know - we call her that because she's Grumpy.
Being short was just a bonus.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Sticky
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
I'm going to be a Nana.
I don't quite know when because the mother-to-be hasn't told me and indeed, doesn't even know nor care herself and you know how there is never any definite date for these little occurrences because babies usually arrive when they are ready, but I have to say I'm not particularly surprised given the amount of time they have been spending joined at the proverbial pelvis.
Anyway, here is a pic
That's my babies, there in that pinky thing stuck on the glass. There is another one just like it stuck to the glass 8 inches away from that one and some time in the next 2-4 weeks they will hatch out, drop into the tank and either get gobbled up by the waiting guppies or start growing.
I'm not quite sure what I am going to do with tons of baby apple/mystery snails... and no, eating them is not an option.
I'm going to be a Nana.
I don't quite know when because the mother-to-be hasn't told me and indeed, doesn't even know nor care herself and you know how there is never any definite date for these little occurrences because babies usually arrive when they are ready, but I have to say I'm not particularly surprised given the amount of time they have been spending joined at the proverbial pelvis.
Anyway, here is a pic
That's my babies, there in that pinky thing stuck on the glass. There is another one just like it stuck to the glass 8 inches away from that one and some time in the next 2-4 weeks they will hatch out, drop into the tank and either get gobbled up by the waiting guppies or start growing.
I'm not quite sure what I am going to do with tons of baby apple/mystery snails... and no, eating them is not an option.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Watch the S car go.
**pulls out a fresh tissue, wipes**
They have hardly stopped fucking, today. Or is that, they have hardly fucking stopped, today.
Either way, I'm think a short, but potentially sweet life could be had as a snail next time around. Beats the hell out of being a fat, desexed and pampered cat, which is what I was planning.
Just...
The only difference is the pampering, you realise, and I'll have to find a way to handle getting wet.
They have hardly stopped fucking, today. Or is that, they have hardly fucking stopped, today.
Either way, I'm think a short, but potentially sweet life could be had as a snail next time around. Beats the hell out of being a fat, desexed and pampered cat, which is what I was planning.
Just...
The only difference is the pampering, you realise, and I'll have to find a way to handle getting wet.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Getting screwed
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
I bought a couple of golden apple snails for the fish tank last weekend. I just wanted something a little more interesting than a guppy to look at, you know? But they are cool and sprint around the tank on their feet, doing all sorts of strange things. We've had the little brown snails in there for ages but they are really boring despite their prolific breeding.
I'd never really thought about sexy snails and what they do to get their funk on, but sort of thought baby golden snails would be nice. A bit of Googling suggested, not being hermaphrodites they needed a Mummy and a Daddy snail to perform snail intercourse to fertilise a bunch of eggs to be laid on the glass above the water line. I knew about the eggs - the Mystery snails used to leave them all over Mum's big tropical stock plant tanks back in my fish farm-teenagehood, dotting the concrete like crispy, pink berry fruits. But I was ignorant of their reproductive necessities.
Our snails have filled in every possible visual blank imaginable - Snail Sex 101
They fuck for over an hour a day. Every day.
Who would have thought snails had it so good, eh?
I bought a couple of golden apple snails for the fish tank last weekend. I just wanted something a little more interesting than a guppy to look at, you know? But they are cool and sprint around the tank on their feet, doing all sorts of strange things. We've had the little brown snails in there for ages but they are really boring despite their prolific breeding.
I'd never really thought about sexy snails and what they do to get their funk on, but sort of thought baby golden snails would be nice. A bit of Googling suggested, not being hermaphrodites they needed a Mummy and a Daddy snail to perform snail intercourse to fertilise a bunch of eggs to be laid on the glass above the water line. I knew about the eggs - the Mystery snails used to leave them all over Mum's big tropical stock plant tanks back in my fish farm-teenagehood, dotting the concrete like crispy, pink berry fruits. But I was ignorant of their reproductive necessities.
Our snails have filled in every possible visual blank imaginable - Snail Sex 101
They fuck for over an hour a day. Every day.
Who would have thought snails had it so good, eh?
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Cheesy
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
I haven't been feeling myself for a few weeks and spent a bit of time playing with Facebook applications instead of blogging boringly if methodically without motivation.
If you are already on Facebook, you will know about applications and if you aren't, you probably don't give a shit anyway, but these little gems are fun. Why, just this past week, they have managed to point out what sort of Dwarf I would have been -
Grumpy. Lack of excrement.
What sort of brain I have -
Fence-sitter.
How smart I am -
*cocks one eyebrow"
Where I should live -
I don't think so, Tim.
What book character I should have been (like wtf??)
um...
Then I found proof I was sane
*does a little dance*
and rounded it out with a really big woodpecker.
Because I could.
PS - Oh and my eyes are fine, just a little optic hypertension creeping in but I've buggered my shoulder replacing the chain that broke on the swing seat under me and Ads the other day.
It was very funny at the time :0)
I haven't been feeling myself for a few weeks and spent a bit of time playing with Facebook applications instead of blogging boringly if methodically without motivation.
If you are already on Facebook, you will know about applications and if you aren't, you probably don't give a shit anyway, but these little gems are fun. Why, just this past week, they have managed to point out what sort of Dwarf I would have been -
Grumpy. Lack of excrement.
What sort of brain I have -
Fence-sitter.
How smart I am -
*cocks one eyebrow"
Where I should live -
I don't think so, Tim.
What book character I should have been (like wtf??)
um...
Then I found proof I was sane
*does a little dance*
and rounded it out with a really big woodpecker.
Because I could.
PS - Oh and my eyes are fine, just a little optic hypertension creeping in but I've buggered my shoulder replacing the chain that broke on the swing seat under me and Ads the other day.
It was very funny at the time :0)
Monday, April 27, 2009
Dork
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
I was sitting out in the Bahama Hut a few minutes ago thinking how pleasant it was out there at 11pm with the night sounds being blown around by the wind and the gentle cracking of the possum crashing around in the bamboo and I got to thinking, as you do, what the Hell is so fascinating about a clump of bamboo when it has no fruit on it? Why live in a barren waste just to trot across to the neighbours to nosh on their avocados? Why not live in the avocado tree at the neighbours? Cos, like, I was stuck in that bamboo for fully 5 minutes the other day and I can quite confidently say, I didn't see anything exciting about it at all.
Of course, this not seeing might be because my eyes are a bit naff, that ridge of high pressure invading my eyeballs that I was yapping about a few weeks back but it's more likely that the possum is just a dork...
Dork - slang for penis, amongst other things. Sometimes an affectionate nickname, sometimes spat out in frustration. But I bet this takes the cake for Dorkdom. It came to me in my mail (thanks, Shane) and just goes to show how big a dork someone can really be.
I was sitting out in the Bahama Hut a few minutes ago thinking how pleasant it was out there at 11pm with the night sounds being blown around by the wind and the gentle cracking of the possum crashing around in the bamboo and I got to thinking, as you do, what the Hell is so fascinating about a clump of bamboo when it has no fruit on it? Why live in a barren waste just to trot across to the neighbours to nosh on their avocados? Why not live in the avocado tree at the neighbours? Cos, like, I was stuck in that bamboo for fully 5 minutes the other day and I can quite confidently say, I didn't see anything exciting about it at all.
Of course, this not seeing might be because my eyes are a bit naff, that ridge of high pressure invading my eyeballs that I was yapping about a few weeks back but it's more likely that the possum is just a dork...
Dork - slang for penis, amongst other things. Sometimes an affectionate nickname, sometimes spat out in frustration. But I bet this takes the cake for Dorkdom. It came to me in my mail (thanks, Shane) and just goes to show how big a dork someone can really be.
Dear Diary
Tomorrow I am going to see the eye specialist about the pressure in my eye balls that is much too high to be normal but has existed too long without making me go blind to be glaucoma.
It was noted in the eye man's report in 2001 when MS first came to live with me on a permanent basis.
I want my MRI, dammit.
:0(
Tomorrow I am going to see the eye specialist about the pressure in my eye balls that is much too high to be normal but has existed too long without making me go blind to be glaucoma.
It was noted in the eye man's report in 2001 when MS first came to live with me on a permanent basis.
I want my MRI, dammit.
:0(
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Crochet, a dying craft?
**pulls out a fresh towel**
My Nana didn't knit or crochet, but if she had, I don't think they would have looked like these...
This is my, er, favourite. I think.
Certainly something a little different to give that beloved new grand child, eh.
PS - spot what's wrong with the co-joined teddies...
My Nana didn't knit or crochet, but if she had, I don't think they would have looked like these...
This is my, er, favourite. I think.
Certainly something a little different to give that beloved new grand child, eh.
PS - spot what's wrong with the co-joined teddies...
Friday, April 24, 2009
Lookalikes
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
Our old girl had her birthday the other day - Nushie is 9, definitely a graceful old lady.
Looking at her, I got to thinking how right that old saying might be, the one so many people have trotted out and giggled at in the years we have been the owners of a mighty Shar Pei.
"Dogs look like their owners".
Oh I just laugh and laugh every time someone (usually the same friend) trots that one out but maybe they have seen a truth I missed until tonight - we do have some resemblances...
And what more could a fat, old bitch want on her birthday than scones, cake, pikelets with jam and 3 rides in the car.
Speaking of middle age, I thought sex in the Middle Ages was Nookie in the Norty Forties, but it looks like I was wrong...
Our old girl had her birthday the other day - Nushie is 9, definitely a graceful old lady.
Looking at her, I got to thinking how right that old saying might be, the one so many people have trotted out and giggled at in the years we have been the owners of a mighty Shar Pei.
"Dogs look like their owners".
Oh I just laugh and laugh every time someone (usually the same friend) trots that one out but maybe they have seen a truth I missed until tonight - we do have some resemblances...
- She is short. So am I.
- She a natural brunette. So am I (underneath whatever dye I'm wearing, anyway).
- She is stiff and sore after lying or sitting down, so am I.
- She's as ugly as sin to those who value outward appearance over worth, and so am I.
- She is old and wrinkled, need of a face lift and mostly taken for granted. So am I.
- She is resigned to spending her days in useless sleepy boredom and so am I (almost).
- We both like riding in the car, we both have trouble getting to the loo in time, we both have a facial hair problem and we've both been spayed.
- Best of all, we both get told to move our fat arse.
And what more could a fat, old bitch want on her birthday than scones, cake, pikelets with jam and 3 rides in the car.
Speaking of middle age, I thought sex in the Middle Ages was Nookie in the Norty Forties, but it looks like I was wrong...
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Hot
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
This young lady, Adele has a wonderful bluesy, blowsy voice.
I love it.
I'm sorry to say I was not familiar with the song, even though it's been covered by more artists than you've had hot crumpet (well, than I have, anyway), nor did I realise it was a Dylan song and there are some excellent versions of it on YouTube, but I'm also sorry to say the worst version is definitely the one done by Bob. No-one can murder a terrific Dylan song like Bob.
*waits for Flattie to untangle his knackers and deliver a withering broadside*
I'm dead meat now, aren't I?
Thank God the car was repaired today; they can put my box on a trailer behind it and tow me up to the Crem. Speaking of boxes, I still haven't finished designing mine. I'm still leaning towards flaming currency, though. After all, everything in life is some form of currency, isn't it? God knows, we seem to never stop paying, one way or another...
This young lady, Adele has a wonderful bluesy, blowsy voice.
I love it.
I'm sorry to say I was not familiar with the song, even though it's been covered by more artists than you've had hot crumpet (well, than I have, anyway), nor did I realise it was a Dylan song and there are some excellent versions of it on YouTube, but I'm also sorry to say the worst version is definitely the one done by Bob. No-one can murder a terrific Dylan song like Bob.
*waits for Flattie to untangle his knackers and deliver a withering broadside*
I'm dead meat now, aren't I?
Thank God the car was repaired today; they can put my box on a trailer behind it and tow me up to the Crem. Speaking of boxes, I still haven't finished designing mine. I'm still leaning towards flaming currency, though. After all, everything in life is some form of currency, isn't it? God knows, we seem to never stop paying, one way or another...
Monday, April 20, 2009
Mongrel fucking cars
**pulls out a fresh kitchen towel roll**
I don't like my car. It failed a WOF this morning on front brake pads, not unexpected cos it's been a bit spongy and soft for a wee while and I'm a hard braker lol. I didn't mention the rough CV joints on accelerated turning, and neither did the WOF guy so maybe they aren't bad, just annoying, but tonight the transmission shat itself. By that, I mean it stopped moving and started grinding when I was backing up at the vege shop. It didn't want to go forwards, either. Going via reverse to get to park was interesting - the grinding got louder. Starting in Park was fine, until one exited via Reverse and then everything ground and it still went nowhere. It even grinds in Neutral.
Now it's parked up at the vege shop locked in their yard, me and the dog walked home (not far but too far for me *sigh*) and I'm kicking myself that I remembered to lock the bitch up. Maybe tomorrow I could be claiming the insurance money cos some shits burnt it out, being parked in the dark, isolated area it is. My insurance still covers me for $2500 agreed value, it won't be worth the cost of a new tranny, the car's only worth $800 on a good day.
Up side?
I could have been in the 5 o'clock rush, or way over the other side of the Bridge, or somewhere on the open road - Open Road might not have been pretty.... Instead I was 300 metres from home and a 1km tow to my mechanic.
It did it BEFORE I spent $150 on it on Friday to get the new brake pads fitted.
I have the Corolla to use as necessary, but being a manual my legs aren't too good for too long.
I have so far managed to withstand the impulse to drive the Corolla down there and unlock it.
It just caps off a really, really crappy week.
I don't like my car. It failed a WOF this morning on front brake pads, not unexpected cos it's been a bit spongy and soft for a wee while and I'm a hard braker lol. I didn't mention the rough CV joints on accelerated turning, and neither did the WOF guy so maybe they aren't bad, just annoying, but tonight the transmission shat itself. By that, I mean it stopped moving and started grinding when I was backing up at the vege shop. It didn't want to go forwards, either. Going via reverse to get to park was interesting - the grinding got louder. Starting in Park was fine, until one exited via Reverse and then everything ground and it still went nowhere. It even grinds in Neutral.
Now it's parked up at the vege shop locked in their yard, me and the dog walked home (not far but too far for me *sigh*) and I'm kicking myself that I remembered to lock the bitch up. Maybe tomorrow I could be claiming the insurance money cos some shits burnt it out, being parked in the dark, isolated area it is. My insurance still covers me for $2500 agreed value, it won't be worth the cost of a new tranny, the car's only worth $800 on a good day.
Up side?
I could have been in the 5 o'clock rush, or way over the other side of the Bridge, or somewhere on the open road - Open Road might not have been pretty.... Instead I was 300 metres from home and a 1km tow to my mechanic.
It did it BEFORE I spent $150 on it on Friday to get the new brake pads fitted.
I have the Corolla to use as necessary, but being a manual my legs aren't too good for too long.
I have so far managed to withstand the impulse to drive the Corolla down there and unlock it.
It just caps off a really, really crappy week.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Determined
**rummages for a new box**
I wonder sometimes, as a somewhat uncommitted believer in pre-birth spiritual self-determination, whether some of those self-help, spiritual awareness books might just be pulling the wool. Just a tad.
I think of it like this...
All these books leading us to Spiritual Awareness (a bargain at only $44.99 or two for $90) speak of healing the mind and soul, using the power of positive thinking to bring to us that which we would most like to have (Love, money, fame etc), paying it forward when giving back to the One, the Universe in return for the bounty It provides.
All good stuff, yes?
But, like, what if we really did choose this existence to further our spiritual learning as we reap/sow Karma with gay abandon and encounter endless unhealed pain and sickness, unanswered wants and needs, warts and all? Giving up would be the smart thing to do, yes? Cos we already chose it so we can't change it when we don't like it.
Then either we are some seriously fucked up bunnies, or I want some of the drugs those enlightened authors are on, and Mick Jagger, too. He reckoned that you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you might find you get what you need.
Right.
Maybe it's all in the drugs I am on...
Of course, if you want to delve into the whole "One" issue, you could always read 'One' by Richard Bach. He had the best drugs of all.
Oh God yes.
I wonder sometimes, as a somewhat uncommitted believer in pre-birth spiritual self-determination, whether some of those self-help, spiritual awareness books might just be pulling the wool. Just a tad.
I think of it like this...
All these books leading us to Spiritual Awareness (a bargain at only $44.99 or two for $90) speak of healing the mind and soul, using the power of positive thinking to bring to us that which we would most like to have (Love, money, fame etc), paying it forward when giving back to the One, the Universe in return for the bounty It provides.
All good stuff, yes?
But, like, what if we really did choose this existence to further our spiritual learning as we reap/sow Karma with gay abandon and encounter endless unhealed pain and sickness, unanswered wants and needs, warts and all? Giving up would be the smart thing to do, yes? Cos we already chose it so we can't change it when we don't like it.
Then either we are some seriously fucked up bunnies, or I want some of the drugs those enlightened authors are on, and Mick Jagger, too. He reckoned that you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you might find you get what you need.
Right.
Maybe it's all in the drugs I am on...
Of course, if you want to delve into the whole "One" issue, you could always read 'One' by Richard Bach. He had the best drugs of all.
Oh God yes.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Wild, baby
**pulls out a fresh tissue**
When I was younger, one of my most favourite books was Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak.
Now, it's a movie.
If only we could all be like Max and come home to a hot supper and a world all set to rights. Wouldn't that be cool
UPDATE: hehe look, some poor sad arsed cunt had to go an nobble the pic of the book. FFS I've just given it a bloody plug, must suck to be them lol
Update the Update 24/4: And now they've gone and put it back again *snort*
When I was younger, one of my most favourite books was Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak.
Now, it's a movie.
If only we could all be like Max and come home to a hot supper and a world all set to rights. Wouldn't that be cool
UPDATE: hehe look, some poor sad arsed cunt had to go an nobble the pic of the book. FFS I've just given it a bloody plug, must suck to be them lol
Update the Update 24/4: And now they've gone and put it back again *snort*
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Yes, well, um
**hides the tissues**
and shopping bags for men...
Sometimes even I am rendered speechless... but this sort of made up for it
and shopping bags for men...
Sometimes even I am rendered speechless... but this sort of made up for it
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Well, well, well
**pulls back the cobwebs**
What can I say? The days are inching past with no letup nor pause and neither do the MS bits. The hands are still numb, the will is still there but the legs are still weak, the days are still too long and the nights are endless yet still I accomplish little of note.
It's sort of like being in prison, I suspect, but without the under floor heating.
These guys are in prison
and check out the chick lol
I haven't mowed the lawn lately or gardened barely at all in weeks, the last lot of the summer veg is sitting in the fridge for the second night waiting to be cooked and I need more MS-sized nana naps.
Well, a girl has to power down occasionally if she's going to keep looking her best. Eh.
What can I say? The days are inching past with no letup nor pause and neither do the MS bits. The hands are still numb, the will is still there but the legs are still weak, the days are still too long and the nights are endless yet still I accomplish little of note.
It's sort of like being in prison, I suspect, but without the under floor heating.
These guys are in prison
and check out the chick lol
I haven't mowed the lawn lately or gardened barely at all in weeks, the last lot of the summer veg is sitting in the fridge for the second night waiting to be cooked and I need more MS-sized nana naps.
Well, a girl has to power down occasionally if she's going to keep looking her best. Eh.
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