A Marketer's Dream

So yes, as previously mentioned here on NTT, the Tart was thinking about moving to QLD. And now she has done it. I put her, and my godson on a plane on Monday night (hello HOTT Jetstar gay boys), and that was it. We couldn't even say a proper goodbye; there was just a lot tears and promises - but no goodbyes. Needless to say I have been moping around the house for the last few days, feeling alone and sorry for myself.

However, that is enough soppy shit.

Decided to cheer myself up by going grocery shopping, because god knows I need all those packets of doritos. So off I trundled to the local supermarket, which shall remain nameless, but perhaps it might be a place where other bloggers are employed. Maybe.

So I grabbed my trolley, and set off, working it aisle by aisle. Because tell me there's nothing better than wandering around a supermarket, listening to muzak, and pretending to be starring in an ad for these:

at 8:30pm at night. In fact, I get so excited by it I usually morph into

when I'm shopping. Because it's fun to walk along and play 'spot the opposition price scout' and harrass overworked staff for more easter eggs and make racial assumptions about what someone is going to have for dinner because they are Indian. I am a perky shopper, and I'm proud.

Anyway.

All of these things combine into a pleasant shopping experience for me. So much so, that I don't realise what I'm putting into my trolley, or keep a rough estimate of how much I'm spending. I get excited when I see colourful packets of things, no matter that I may never eat/have use for them, but into the trolley they go. Things on special are good too - because a person living by themselves can never have enough crumpets. One particular special was buy a packet of crumpets, get one free. So I bought two packets - ended up with four (for those of you that didn't pass maths). God knows what a single person is going to do with four packets of crumpets. That had an expiry date of 28/5/05.

My freezer is now very crowded.

Needless to say I was in a bit of shock when I reached the check-out. I had visions of leaving half of my pretty coloured groceries behind. But that was far too 'Dad's spent all the housekeeping at the pokies again' so I had to grin pathetically and hand over my EFTPOS card and try not too look too embarrassed because I forgot my Green 'if-you-don't-use-these-environmentally-friendly-bags-you-will-be-ostracized-from-the-community-and-burn-in-hell-for-eternity-mother-fucker Bags again.

So what exactly did I buy that totalled in the vicinity of $150??? I'll spare you the boring details, but here are some of the things I pulled off my docket when I checked it (such a Mum thing to do).

- Three packets of plain Doritos (So, I like nachos)
- Yogo (Childhood regression)
- Pizza Shapes / BBQ Shapes (couldn't decide which one I liked better so I bought both and mini packets of each for my playlunches)
- Mandarins / Snow Peas (my tribute to healty eating)
- Jelly Babies (Fat Free)
- Choc-Cherry Drumsticks (again, the buy one get one free deal. Currently making sweet sweet freezer love to my crumpets)
- Microwave Popcorn - Lite (I possibly just picked up the 'Lite' version to justify buying it)
- Ham in a packet (Because the stupid deli chick was 'cleaning' all of the fresh stuff)
- Honey Soy marinade (to marinate ALL of the meat that I bought. IE - none).
- Vintage cheese block, vintage cheese slices and grated cheese. (You can never have too much)

Not exactly Jenny Craig stuff, is it? Probably not going to help my vow to be more fit and healthy. But have you ever noticed that all the healthy stuff comes in boring packets? If any supermarket-type people are out there - put the good stuff in bright packages so I will buy it. Pleeeeeeeease. It's no good learning how to strip if I don't look like Carmen Electra. Just a couple of pink packages for some low fat snacks, and I'll be happy.

Stay tuned for my next big shop, and I'll tell you if I get any better...

BB goes the 'raunch'

So, I've been reduced to posting at work, now that The Tart has moved to QLD, and my damn laptop still hasn't been fixed after I crashed it with porn. I mean, after I dropped it.

Anyways.

I was all jizzy Monday night about the premiere of Big Brother Uncut. Something to look forward to now. But after Monday night's effort, I can't wait to get my laptop back. The only thing going for them is that they'll never run out of material - they blow all over previous houses.

It's all so stock standard though. We've got Gretel, pretending to be offended at the material they were showing, when you just knew that everytime they threw to some footage or a commercial break, she'd be going the paper towels. Thick & Thirsty, to capture all that excess moisture.

We also got some rather lame dialogue of the HM's discussing various personal and sexual preferences. Rah rah, how boring. Electric toothbrushes? I mean, how very predictable. And is it just me, but do you really want the whole world knowing that you're cleaning beyond other types of lips with your toothbrush? How very bristle-y. Perhaps she was just angling for a Macleans sponsorship or something.

Then there were some average pictures of some nekkid housemates. Did anyone else notice the camera tends to linger WAY longer on the boobs, whereas we were treated to only a quick flash through the dick pics??? Could it be that the cameras are all operated by MALES??? No, it couldn't be so.

Possibly the only thing that kept me watching and not turning on my Carmen Electra Fit to Strip DVD, was Hotdogs going the suck on Geneva's nipple. Whey-hey...back it up a little there! Possibly the first sexual action since the dancing doona episode back in series 1. Why wasn't more made of that? Why didn't we see the shot from the camera's directly above the bed where the action was taking place? I bet Gret-ski copped a eyeful of that footage. Why censor it if it's meant to be uncut? Why Why Why?

Because it is a crooked letter, I suppose.

Maybe I will have to do as the intrepid Hambo does, and hook up to live screening. At least until I get my other stash back.

Snippety Snip Snip Snippets

* Our Kyles has got breast cancer, as reported by every media outlet in the universe yesterday. Blah Blah, celebrity, blah, cancer, blah, national day of mourning, blah (Go on, I dare you, John H). What I really want to know is how Rove McManus' missus, Belinda Emmett, is coping. She was looking fucking awful at the Logies, wasn't she. I suppose at least she isn't going a la Goodrem and cashing in, and I don't think Miss Minogue will either.

Don't get me wrong, my heart goes out to all Kylie & Belinda (Sorry Delts, sweetie, it doesn't quite extend that far) and I wish them complete recoveries, but everyday, all over the world, people get diagnosed with cancer, and it doesn't get shoved down our throats in everyway possible.

We have just finished another one of our colourful debates here at work, whereby someone said they feel so sorry for Kylie, how terrible, blah blah blah. Hello? Do you feel sorry for everyone else that has just been diagnosed? The Ex Fucker's mum was just diagnosed with cervical cancer, can I have a bit of sorry over here? My dog was just diagnosed with cancer, how about some attention there? Don't feel too bad for Kylie, at least she doesn't have to wear one of those space hat thingy-s to keep her from licking her wounds.

How about we come up with a day where we can remember ALL cancer sufferers, not just the celebrity-type ones. Oh...wait...

* $118 fucking dollars to go and see Grease the musical. I could get $118 fucks in Thailand for that. If I was a man. Probably could get them if I was a girl anyway, they're that feral. Anyways...back to my point. $118 is far too prohibitive for me and The Tart, so we've decided to put on our own musical. So with the help of our trusty old friend Absolut, some dunlop volleys and pink dressing gowns, our lounge-room on Friday night will be THE place to be. I can't promise you Millsy, but I can promise you the never seen alternative lesbian-curio ending that Grease the musical will not deliver. Email me for tickets, good seats still available.

* Ever get the feeling like your life is one big episode of Big Brother? My current obsession is highlighting the fact that I'm going all Jim Carrey in The Truman Show, and there is a Big Brother out there pulling all my strings. Consider this:
Girl A going out with Boy A
Girl B going out with Boy B
Girl B dumps Boy B
Girl B fucks with Boy B's head
Girl B tries to crack onto Boy A - and succeeds somewhat
Boy B stops talking to Girl B because he realises he using him
Boy A dumps Girl A
Boy B declares his love for Girl A
Boy B breaks Girl A's heart & starts ignoring her
Boy B starts going out with Girl C
Boy B starts talking to Girl B again
Girl B tries to crack onto Boy A again
Girl B tries to crack onto Boy B again
Girl C cools it with Boy B
Boy B decides to come crawling back to Girl A
Boy A decides to come crawling back to Girl A

It's time to go....

Blowing in one's undies

Apologies for the rather late update...just realised that I haven't posted for a week. My bad. Although I do have a legitimate excuse(s): I have officially moved back into The Tart's house, where the only computer still plays dial up and is stuck in The Tart's room, so late night posts are out of the question. I have also been pretty busy pashing a certain nerd as well, hence the title of this post. Ahem.

Speaking of creaming one's pants - how hooked on Big Brother are you? Me? I'm addicted. I hate myself for it, but it sucks me in and before you can say "It's time to go, Martie" I'm all email discussing and calling friends about it. Tonight I even made sure I had tea ready and eaten by 7:30pm to make sure I could completely focus on tonight's special 'Lies Exposed'.

And boy, it was LAME. Big Brother put them in the isolation room for lying about their single status. If he really had any balls, he would have just kicked them off completely, and bought in three new housemates, just to shake the dynamics a bit. My bet is that they'll go back after a little while - I hope so, because Constance is one of my favourites. Along with the Logans - Gregg & David. You'd have a crack at him/them, but they are a little on the short side....

Fuck, head-jam. Normal programming should hopefully resume shortly, after any Big Brother jizz-fest has finished. If you think I'm a little too involved, then meet my friend, Ranger Stacey. She has a journal where she has written down her first impressions of the housemates, and she plans to revist it in a few weeks time to see how her opinions have changed. We might make a night of it - obviously a date with a bottle of vodka as well (how else do you get through it??)

They are a nekkid-loving lot though this year, aren't they? Already there's been pash parties, boobs, pole dances and late night cuddling. Network Ten's dream start, with dream ratings to match. Anyone desperate to stay up to watch THE MOST ANNOYING MAN ON TV MIKE GOLDMAN host BBUplate would have plenty of material to take to the bedroom with them. Only saying.

(Material = Anything that doesn't have Mike Goldman or Big Bro's Big Fat Beefy Wallet in it).

I'd really like to comment on the social and cultural impact that BB has on our society, however, it's late, I have a shitful head cold and my name isn't Gretel Killeen. Instead, I'll just take for what everyone else standing around the photocopier on a Monday morning takes it for: A chance to see a bunch of bogans get their kit off, embarrass their families and come out with gems such as "I think I am intellect". Pure. Fucking. Gold.

Happy Mothers Day, now cook my party pies

Yes, it's that one time of the year where we get to show our mums our appreciation for being, well, our mums. Not that we shouldn't be showing appreciation every day of the year, it's just that today it get accentuated with breakfast in bed, flowers, and other shit.

Of course, being the only human offspring remaining in the country, it was up to me to organise present/card/flowers. Whoa, silly me - It's ALWAYS up to me to organise such things (And you know it, Andrew). This year was easy - conveniently Chanel has re-released their limited edition 'Gardenia' perfume just in time for mothers day, and well, that's what the old duck wanted, so there's happy campers all round. Except for me, because she's hidden it somewhere and I can't use it. How, um, unjust. The non-human offspring managed to scrape together some beautiful lilies, which is not a bad effort for a 17 year-old deaf cat, a dog wearing a space helmet and a hyperactive little jack russell. Good on you, guys.

Chatting to work colleagues on Friday, discussing what we were all doing for mother's day. Breakfasts on the Mornington Peninsula; picnics in the Botanical Gardens; lunch bbqs, etc. Inevitably, they asked what I was doing for my mum:

Me: "Ahhh, well, I asked her if she wanted to go out for dinner, but doesn't really want to"
Work: "Why?"
Me: "Because she doesn't want to miss the start of Big Brother".

What the fuck? Sure, I'll probably be sucked in by the whole Big Brother 'phenomenon' again and spend my days trawling BB gossip websites while I'm actually meant to be doing work. But it's not like we'd miss anything: the housemates will still all be fuckwits tomorrow. And rather than be taken out for a lavish dinner (read: pensioner roast of the day at the local), she'd much rather watch TV. No wonder why everyone at work just looked at me with that 'ahhh, that's where she gets it from' look.

It does, however, get better or worse, depending on your take of party hats. She decided to celebrate the return of BB by having a 'party' tea. For the uninitiated, this consists of mini quiche; mini spring rolls; party pies and sausage rolls. With a great big hyperactive-inducing dollop of tomato sauce. Now, I wasn't all together impressed by the idea, mainly because a) she cooked it - wouldn't let me do anything; b) we normally only bring out the 'party' teas for the return of Neighbours every January & c) we forgot the 'little boys'. (And no, my mother is not Michael Jackson, before you ask, I'm talking about cocktail frankfurts).

Oh yeah, and there were no party hats either. Colourful napkins, but no party hats. Bah. Not a real party then, hey?

However, I suppose it is mum's day after all, and she can choose to spend (and make us spend) it in whichever way she pleases. Happy Mother's Day, Mars Bar, love you lots & I'm really sorry about coming home drunk last night, then thinking it would be a good idea to write on your card. I hope you can read it. xx

Nerd Facts Needed

I appear to be dating a nerd. A looks so cute he's hot when wearing glasses, lots of computers, speaks about geeky things nerd. See previous post about our first date here, and since then, we have had two more.

Our first kiss was in the casino carpark on Friday night. It was so cute, he asked me if he could kiss me. *Swoon* It was something out of an old fashioned romance movie. And it was sweet, so sweet. He wanted to do something the next night, but I was already taking the Tart out for dinner, so had to regretfully decline.

Then last night, I drove TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD (Watsonia) for dinner. I drove up and down Banksia St for a good 10 minutes, wondering where the fuck Rosanna Rd was (Whoops, silly me. Of course I should have guess from the non-signage that Lower Heidelberg Rd turned into Rosanna Rd half way down. What was I thinking?) and finally made it after an hour and a half, and we sat down to a VEGETARIAN PIZZA WITH HAM!

No, I did not fucking get it either.

But after the Banksia St episode and peak hour driving in unfamiliar territory, I was quite flustered and did not even bat one carefully made-up-in-work-bathroom-eyelid at dinner. Unfortunately, I didn't really bat much at all. I was a little intimidated and nervous, and my *ahem* sparkling wit deserted me.

His extensive knowledge of Seinfeld and TV in general, and computers and cool retro stuff like super nintendos converted onto PC flapped the normal unflappable me. I feel inadequate that I haven't seen all the Star Wars movies, or learnt how to burn CD's. Or that I didn't order some big fuck-off joystick from America to play games on my PC.

I guess plane spotting and ship watching don't cut the mustard in nerd world.

So I need help, dearest reader. Point me in the direction of true nerd-dom and show me the light.

I don't want to get all Beyond-3000 on his arse, just, understand a bit better.

I need websites / movies / technology things.....DAMN! I hate being smitten. Such a silly girly thing. Bah! The planes aren't looking like a bad option after all.

Woe-gies

I tried my best. Really, I did. But I just couldn't sit through the Woe-gies for any longer than an hour. I only just wandered out to find out who won the Gold Logie (suck shit Bec Cartwright and your greasy haired fiance Ley-ley). So much for my planned review of 'television's night of nights'. However, why don't I walk you through the 'Arrivals' show.

Was it just me, or did they spend an overly long time talking to knobs on the 'white' carpet (BTW - LAME, oh so LAME, Woe-gies organisers)? And what was with the teasers "Coming up next, Bec & Leyton", before every ad-break (and inevitably, it wasn't until after the 100th one that they actually did appear), like they are royalty or something?

Perhaps they should have had a special boobwatch section too; was it just me, or were there some ugly boobs last night?

The "I borrowed Grandma's" award:
Take a bow, Stephanie Mackintosh

Honey. Saggy boosies do not a starlet make. Buy. A. Bra.
The Sugardaddy, with whom I was perving, I mean watching this train wreck was far more impressed than I. "Obviously that's meant to be the natural flow of them." Uh, yeah, 33 years old and still doesn't understand simple gravity laws.

The "Technicolour boobs" award:
Congratulations, Tammin Sursok

Somebody should learn how to blend, blend, blend that bronzer

The "Squishiest Boobs" award:
Blonde American Tart with HUUUUGE lips engaged to stupid fake outback man

Granted, there could have been a whole host of 'celebrities' that could have taken this award, and this picture does not do the squish factor much justice. But really. Don't these people take a look in the mirror before they leave home? Methinks the dress was a little too tight in the first place, and thus resulted in the horrible squish on the sides and in the middle. Go back to America, famewhore.

The "My Boobs had their own invitation" award
No Contest. Madaline West.

Obviously trying to drum up some publicity since her 'stand-up' career tanked.
The big question of the night is 'how did Dee Bliss end up drowning with those things attached?' I'm thinking airbags, people.
Don't even get me started about the hideous strap thing-y running down the middle. Just don't.

Special mentions must also go to Gabrielle Richens
Kimberley Davies
and Natalie Blair (AKA the Gainsville chick) for amping up the cleave factor, and to Sigrid Thornton, who apparently caused a little bit of a nipplegate saga herself.

And if you shocked and awed by the Thorpedo's *ahem* hairdo;

check THIS out. It's worth all the boobs on the white carpet combined.