Pass the tissues

I am a cry baby. It doesn't matter if the movie is for kids, ditsy teen girls or grandmothers, if someone is happy, sad or anywhere in-between, you can count on me to choke up and start crying quietly behind a couch cushion.

Unwittingly, I bought this movie for my nephew thinking it would be a laugh a minute. Seriously, with a floating house, a talking dog and chubby Asian boy called Russel where could I go wrong? I'll tell you where. Roughly ten minutes in that’s where. The movies starts and were all shouting 'Adventure is OUT THERE!'. Collective Aw when they get married and build their dream house. Picnic under the clouds, painting the nursery, turns out she can't have children, bit of a downer, but then they are happy again, saving to go on their adventure, they live their life, everyone is happy, they get older, still happy, his taste in ties changes but they're that cute old couple that is still in love after all these years. Then trip up the hill. She falls, is sick and then we're at the funeral.

WHAT?!? I didn't sign up for this. Here's my nephew happily chugging away at his Milo, oblivious to the fact that his Giddy Aunt is choking on her tea, trying to wipe her nose on her sleeve and squinting through her fogged up glasses.

Because I think you are all lovely I will list a few Movies where I turn into a big sookie lalla:-

– Lion King

– Little Mermaid

– PS I Love You

– The Colour Purple

– Up

– The Parent Trap

– Peter Pan

– A Christmas Carol

– The Pursuit of Happyness

I would keep going but my dignity won’t allow it. Feel free to mock me.

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Revenge is sweet

Objects in picture are less intelligent than they appear.

Allow me to introduce to you all my younger brother. He is a seventeen year old oaf who spends his time mussing up his hair and stretching holes in his ear lobes.  Three years younger than me, half an inch shorter than me and many, many IQ points inferior to me, this blight on his generation at this point in time I assume is on his way to a bunker in the Northern Territory with a fake moustache and going by the name of Frank.

Why? One moment possums and I will tell all.

A few weeks ago, fed up with Windows Vista I bought an external hard drive so that I can transfer all my files from my computer so that I can wipe my machine and install a new operating system. I spent an afternoon clearing out all of my photos, music and other documents into clearly marked folders on the new hard drive.  

About a week later I get a call from my brother asking if I didn’t mind if he borrowed the drive.  He said he’d found the mother load of music from one of his school friends and none of his storage was big enough to deal with it.  Because I am rather too trusting and lovely I immediately conceded and dropped the drive at his house. I told him I was having a few problems with it and to let me know if he couldn’t get it to work. A week passes and I don’t hear anything so I let sleeping dogs lie.

This morning I thought it was high time that I message pox boy and ask him whether or not he is finished with it. I get a message back saying the hard drive was still at his friend’s house and it should be back by the weekend. Put at ease I reply that this is fine and just ask that he makes sure his friend doesn’t accidentally delete any of my files. He texted back straight away with ‘Dnt yu have them on yur computer?’ My stomach drops.

My little brother, in a moment of sheer stupidity and total ignorance to file sharing etiquette had gone and deleted all my music, photos and all my writing. I could actually murder him. Cold calculated murder. I have always known that he was neither the brightest crayon in the box or the sharpest tack on the board but I would have thought that he would have the sense to at least call me before he deleted not only documents but PHOTOS.

And it doesn’t even stop there. His excuse (not that he deserves to make any) was… wait for it… ‘Ummm… Yeaa yu cooda sed something.’ WHAT THE BEGEEBUS KIND OF EXCUSE IS THAT?!?!?!

So I wanted all of you to know that I am going home to shoot my little brother with a machete and my next posts will be about prison life. I’m going to go breath into a paper bag.

Childhood memories strike back

Lamb Chop: a seemingly innocent puppet who spent her days perched on fence posts and cementing herself in children’s subconscious by sheer willpower and over the top cuteness. It is with some trepidation and a lot of manic laughter that I bring to you… The Song that Doesn’t End.

Apologies to The Idiot for attempted stabbity-death with a plastic knife due to my last assault.

My five cents worth.

One drizzly August morning, Clare was ambling along in the blogosphere, reading blogs here and there and waving casually to other bloggers as she strolled through cyberspace. It was on this seemingly ordinary day that she stumbled upon something epic. Something so magnanimous that she couldn’t just sit idly by and let the opportunity to join in this battle just pass her by. I am of course referring to The Annoying Music Battle which is being waged by The Idiot, Frolicking Lady, Sparrow and The Life of Jamie. For those of you not up to speed, The Frolicking Lady’s husband is currently holding the fort with a low blow from David Hasselhoff’s Hooked on a Feeling.

So, here is my five cents worth, take that!!

and if that’s not enough here’s another one for good measure

May God have mercy on your souls.

Anarchy anyone??

1. a state of society without government or law.
2. political and social disorder due to the absence of governmental control
3. a theory that regards the absence of all direct or coercive government as a political ideal and that proposes the cooperative and voluntary association of individuals and groups as the principal mode of organized society.

Oh my giddy aunt, any Australian who is not currently residing under a rock will be aware of the current upheaval in our government. Due to a hung parliament, Australia finds itself temporarily without a governing body and like a mischievous child, has been left to its own devices while the parents quarrel over custody, trying to curry favour with friends and relatives. I must say, at this point I am quite partial to the notion of putting my head into the nearest sandbox and waiting untill this whole thing is over.

True to form, my imagination has gotten the better of me and I, for the past 2 days have been giving a lot of thought to the possibility that Australia as a nation will be unable to decide on one particular political party. As a result the whole nation will descend into chaos; people will take to the streets with pointed sticks. A military coup will follow, tear gas will be shot into the crowds, the masses will revolt and someone will tell us all to eat cake. Someone will have their head cut off and a fascist dictator will take control of our nation for a time. I will go all Corrie Ten Boom and start hiding people in my cupboard under my stairs and we’re all going have to communicate in code and traffic food stuffs via underground railroads.

In the meantime I am going to stock up on canned goods and outfit my bunker with gas masks and long life milk. It was a pleasure blogging with you all.

Silk Road

That’s right dear readers, Marley and I have set in motion a cunning plan of marvelous proportions. December 2011, this pert pair of poltergeist are planning on picking their perilous passage across the Pacific to peruse the particularly pretty place of Japan.  (Huzzah) While this adventure is still a ways off, since money and I have a difficult relationship, I will need to start saving sooner rather than later.

Because Marley is the brains behind the operation, she will be largely in control of the itinerary (seeming as she has been there a few times before and speaks the language to a degree). For a more detailed list of places we are planning to grace with our presence, check our her blog here. I must admit Japan was never on my top list of places I would like to go. I was always a Europe kind of girl, having been fascinated since a very early age with Europe’s history. Accordingly, the whole Asia thing is relatively new, but after thinking about it (on a historical importance level) I think Japan’s history and culture is going to be just as fascinating (if not more so) than anything Europe has to offer.

In conclusion dear readers, i am tickled pink at the prospect of visiting this country. Also added bonus, it will be winter when we go so hopefully I will see snow 🙂

Another day at the office

Tap tap tap, the pencil begins to leave mark of its passage on the desk where I sit. Looking up at the clock, the hands seemed not to have moved in the hours I’ve felt to be sitting here. Choking, the buttons done up so tight around my neck seem to be cutting off all life even though last time I checked, it was loose enough. Tap tap, harder than before, my pencil snaps. Breath in, breath out, it’s ok, just sharpen it again. A voice from behind, a question sent out waiting for a reply, I answer mechanically, I’ve said this a million times before.

The phone rings, my smile forced so that whoever unwittingly called thinks that I care about whatever they have deemed worthy of my time. The door, the bell, a question, a task. Stillness. I click over onto another screen, waiting while it takes its time. “I’m waiting” comes the voice. I reply politely that I am getting to it while my brain screams for the world to SHUT UP! The world, as usual, mockingly continues to exist.

 A dull pain starts behind my ear and for a second I rest my head against the desk, hoping that it will retreat to whence it came. Another call, another task, smile, be nice, be lovely. People come in and take their oars, I mean desks and the banter ensues. Stroke, stroke, stroke, in time with the clock which is beating out the passing of time. One job done and the in tray looms like a monster in the closet waiting until Mum turns off the light. Biding its time until the door closes and it descends, smothering you and pulling you into one nightmare after another.

The clatter of dishes as I clear away mess mutes out the hubbub of chatter back and forth. The kettle boils and for a second I wonder if I could so vent my pent-up discontent. Just flick a switch in my corporate thinking and expel the bubbling, boiling anger inside; then the phone rings, smile, sweetness and go on.

Life Lessons #1

One thing I learned recently is that no good deed goes unpunished. A few weeks ago, one of the girls I used to work with at another office got some new photos taken and emailed them to me to get my opinion. I chose one that I thought looked best and then offered to edit the background so that it was white (as that is what our corporate photos are supposed to have). She said that would be lovely so I did that, and cropped a copy so that she had both a full body shot and a head shot which was rather lovely of me if I do say so myself.

Recently I had gotten my new photo taken so had made a spiffy new email banner to go on my work email. Noticing this, my dear friend then asked if I knew how to make a banner for her. As I had not much on that day I kindly offered to make her one. The rest of the day passed without anything worth noting.

The next morning one of the girls who works with my buddy ole pal sent me an email asking if I had some spare time if I didn't mind doing up an email banner for her. Of course I didn't mind and I had it done and sent back in relatively short order. Life was peachy… for about 45 minutes. I then get a call from our Business development manager who thought it would be a great idea if all the staff members had a shiny new email banner that all looked exactly the same; and he'd been told that I could do them and asked if it wouldn't be too much of a problem if I made a new one for everyone. 20 staff members later I never want to see another email banner ever again.

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Ode to footwear of old

Could they be... MUM JEANS?!?!? *doom music*

Today it seems I have finally slipped into the abyss of old age. That dark place where your jeans are held up by elastic, your hair by plastic combs, your gums by dentures and your breasts don’t stay up at all. Why you ask is a spring chicken of the tender age of 20 thinking herself to be part of this aging demographic? Read on dear readers, all will be revealed.

I am a receptionist for all of you who were not previously savvy to this little gem of personal information. I get up in the morning, and in accordance with my contract get myself all pretty which lately consists of slapping on some foundation, running a comb through my hair, pulling on the closest semi-clean outfit, grappling with a pair of panty-hose and finally slipping my feet into shoes with a 5 inch heel.

not this bad

I love shoes, I adore shoes, and next to my books my most prized possessions are my range of fabulous footwear. Among my collection you are likely to find an assortment of high heels ranging from about 3.5 inches to a teetering 5.5 inches. Since moving offices and catching public transport to work every day my shoes have been taking a beating. In the past 9 months I have gone through about 5 pairs of heels because of all the walking I’ve been doing between office, bank, post office and bus/train stations not to mention the occasional 20 minute walk home from the train station when my trusted car driver (Mumsy) is otherwise occupied.

usual shoe choice

 So in light of my shoe abuse, this morning after pinning back my hair, zipping my skirt and giving up on the panty-hose I was faced with a dilemma. I had no shoes to wear. I have plenty of shoes, just none that I fancied forcing myself to endure for the next 11 hours with the inevitable wearing down to the heel untill I turned them into flats.

So I begrudgingly strapped on a particularly tall pair that have a tendency of slipping off my feet and made my less than merry way to work. It was coming up to lunch time and I found myself thinking of Mumsy. Mumsy has teeny tiny feet and is always gallivanting about the town in these hideous sandal type abominations with about 2 inches of padding to help her footsies be nice and comfy all day long. Not only are they fashion faux pas but they are so sturdy that they will live FOREVER!

 So I’m sitting here in my little reception bubble dreaming of the sandals of doom and I find myself googling comfy work shoes. One thing led to another and half an hour later I find myself in Rivers purchasing what Mum (not to be mistaken for Mumsy) would call ‘sensible shoes’. They are some of those rubber soled, padded leather inner grandmother affairs that 17-year-old Clare vowed she would rather die than be seen dead in.

Traitor shoe

You heard me correctly dear readers. Clare has forsaken fashion for comfort. I am now gallivanting about the town in flat, rubber soled padded leather lined shoes with a buckle on the toe. I might as well get in while the sales are on and stock up on mum jeans and button up shirts made of that sturdy material that will never wear out. Goodbye mini skirts, singlet tops and bedazzled shoes. It was nice knowing you.

For the record, let it be known that since purchasing these shoes, my right heel is now sporting a very impressive blister. That’s what I get for cheating on stilettos.

Evil your name is Tuesday

After reading my dear chum Joshua’s blog this morning, I came across his post wherein he went on to describe his loathing for Tuesday which he believes to be the vilest of days in our calendar week. At first I was a little sceptical, but after thinking about yesterday and all that ensued in it, I was forced to re-think my afore mentioned cynicism and admit to myself (and now all of you) that Tuesdays are indeed, inherently evil and should be avoided at all costs.

Let me run you though what happened yesterday, Tuesday the 10th of August 2010.
1. I wake up at 1:30am, realise that two letters that I have received from two very important people, have accidentally been thrown in the bin, so out I trot in the pouring rain to delve through our wheelie bin which incidentally had been filled with about 5 other bags of kitchen waste since I had deposited my own rubbish. So in my jim jams and slippers I am pulling bags out of the bin untill I get to the envelope that I accidentally threw out.

2. I miss my train, and it wasn’t even my fault. So I was forced to wait for the next train which gets to the station 2 minutes after my connecting bus leaves and I have to wait 45 minutes for the next one which is always full of unwashed school boys who think it’s ok to play their bad music without headphones.

3. It’s pouring down rain, so I have to wade across the car park between the bus station and my office, thoroughly drenching my shoes and socks, and I arrive 10 minutes late looking like a drowned rat and leaving wet puddles everywhere I walk.

4. The Kettle blew up. As I went to make a cup of tea to ease the pain of the mornings mis-fortunes, the kettle sparks and shuts down the power in the office. I re-boot the power system and try calling accounts to ask if I can buy a new kettle out of petty cash.

5. The lady in accounts is on the phone, I’ll call back. 20 mins later, I call back and she is still on the phone. Note it is  quarter past 9 in the morning and I still haven’t had a cup of tea.

6. I get a call from accounts saying I can go get a new kettle as long as I look for a cheap one. I sally forth across the car park in my water-logged shoes, purchased a new kettle and sloshed back to the office.

7. I plug-in the brand new, fresh out of the box kettle, fill ‘er up, and the stupid machine doesn’t work does it. So I empty the kettle, put it back in its box and trudge back across the car park in the pouring rain to take the kettle back and get a new one which finally worked.

8. I get to work, go to print something out, there is a dirty big sign saying “Printer Dead”. So I wait for 3 hours untill the printer tech shows up, spends an hour making lots of promising noises before saying that we still couldn’t use the machine as he had to go back and get a new part and he would be back promptly.

9. Get a call half an hour before knock-off from said printer man saying he’s stuck in traffic and asking someone to stay back for him to come and finish the job as he’s got the next day off.

After this relatively awful day, I finally get home and tell my sorry tale to my family expecting sympathy. Instead I get this contempt laden look from my dear sister before she launches into her own dismal happenings.

She went to the shops to do the groceries with Chubbling and Rhyno who were both crying and carrying on. Rhyno made an escape from the trolley and was missing in the shopping centre. After finishing her shopping getting glares from other parents for having unruly children she gets home. Trying to carry two babies and a car load of groceries up the stairs she pulls her back and neck.

My brother-in-law couldn’t even appreciate my story because his day consisted of going to work in the rain, having the clutch on his bobcat stop working so it wouldn’t move, then spending the next four hours pulling his machine apart, breaking off the offending piece and somehow getting the whole contraption back onto his truck, all in the pouring rain.

I hate Tuesdays