Shorties

I had three days off work last week. I had an ear infection. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but I literally could not walk a straight line, or think, or listen to any sounds, etc, my ear was that sensitive. And apparently I may have Vertigo (hello, hello, I'm in a place called...etc, etc). I'm just nervous about going back. I've only been there two months, and I've now had three sick days. I feel bad.

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I had breakfast in Clifton Hill this morning, and spent the afternoon at Fountain Gate. And I live in Mentone. WHAT PETROL CRISIS??? Nah, but seriously, people of the world, wake up to yourselves. The Drive-Thru queue at Krispy Kreme was at least an hour long - and people just kept joining it. They are friggin' doughnuts, for fuck's. If you really want good doughnuts, go and buy freshly made cinnamon ones, take them home, and smother with strawberry jam & freshly whipped cream. rox0r.

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No one wants to see Snakes on a Motherfuckin' Plane with me (or, as this household calls it - Ants on a Motherfuckin' Benchtop - fucking rain). No one, apparently, except for my Dad. WTF? Apparently, I'm taking him for Father's Day. Noooooooo! Father's Day is all about a bottle of OP Rum and a 'Daddy' card. The last time my Dad was at the movies was when Rolling Jaffas Down the Aisle was considering the most rebellious thing a teenager could do.

So I tried out some of the lines on him at the dinnertable tonight:
"I am sick of these motherfuckin' potatoes on this motherfuckin' dinnertable"
and promptly got handed some soap (presumably to wash out mouth).
I don't think we'll be going anytime soon.

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I made teh secks this weekend. A lot. Friends with benefits, friends with benefits.

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I have really made a mess of my plan to lose weight to go to the races, haven't I? Although I didn't hoe down on the KK's today, I did have ice-cream with ICE FUCKING MAGIC last night, and was eating some pretty serious chocolate last week when I was snivelling with a pissy little ear infection feeling pretty fucking sick.

So I have to take a new approach. I've decided I'm going to have one vice. Yep, you guessed it. Milk & Chocolate Teddy Bears. If I let myself have one thing, then maybe I won't end up having a whole meal of vices.

It's so fucked. Why can't I be determined enough to lose weight? It's the one thing that makes me SO unhappy, and unconfident, and unsexy, and I always like to fuck it up for myself. Bizarre. I've tried all the mental tricks - cut out of body I want on the fridge, food diary, etc, etc, but I start, then don't follow through. Weight Watchers must be littered with an array of old memberships of mine, and there's too many times to count when I've tried to go it alone. Also, my nutritionist that I was seeing last year, has written me off I'm sure, and she is friendly, but really cold with me now. I feel like I've let her down. And my trainer. Why do I bother paying $140 a fortnight? You'd think these would all be GREAT motivating factors, but, meh - I just keep saying, I'll do it tomorrow. It bugs me. A lot*

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Sometimes I'm scared to turn off the light because I think there is a serial killer looking in through my window.

Which is why this is turning out to be such a long post.

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For some reason, I watched the bit on 60 Minutes tonight about the woman who was cryongenically (??) frozen until they find a cure for her cancer. This made me really mad; although I'm no believer in God, etc, I just think we're fucking around with something we shouldn't be. Especially after they said that essentially the process sucks out everything from your brain, which will most likely, take away everything that makes you uniquely you. Then they started talking about people who choose to just have their heads frozen, so they can be reattached to new bodies when technology catches up. WTF? I mean, it would be nice to say "Attach me to the body of Catherine Zeta-Jones when I wake up, cryogenic people", but really, that shit is fucked up right there.

SO...then I turned it over and watched Australian Idol, and promptly fell in love with the Irish bloke. Fuck he can sing. The rest are just Wanke**

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I don't know how much longer I will be at this blogging caper; not that I don't want to, but because my laptop screen is dying a slow death, and judging by the amount of times it's flickered while writing this post, I'd say that time of passing may be hastened. (MAYBE I CAN GET IT CRYOGENICALLY FROZEN?).

Anyway, this is the only 'puter I'm able to post from: work is not like the good old days, where I could do anything and get away with it, for I was the IT master, this work actually has CONTROLS, and INTERNET SPIES LOGGING ACCOUNTS, ETC. And fixing a computer is so far down on my list of financial priorities right now, soooo, we'll see how we go. If I suddenly stop posting, you know where I've gone (To the cryogenics lab).

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Confession time: I LOVE the new song by Justin Timberlake. Although I hate him in a 'little brother's friend that wouldn't be allowed past the front door way', that song is hot. And HOTT to dance to. As is the 'Permiscuous' song by Nelly. It's times like these when I wish I had a portable music device, so that I might press repeat on these songs over and over again until I feel like a radio station.

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Surely the serial killer is starting to get bored now?

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Match the following words with their appropriate description below:
The Boy, Friends with Benefits, Teh Secks, The Exile, Waking up next to someone:

- May have been with me at Fountain Gate
- Fucking Brilliant
- Comfortable
- Is my way of not getting too close again
- Is now over, on my terms.

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Excitng Monday Morning Read for you all.

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The serial killer can get fucked. I'm tired.



* Suggestions, Tips, Tricks (TOTALLY NOT IN AN A.J. FROM THE BIGGEST LOSER IN NEW IDEA WAY) are welcomed - please!

** Keeping with the theme, a Fountain Gate/Narre Warren in-joke.