Say hello to my little friend, Murphy.

This long weekend, I pledged to finally get my finger out my arse and sort through my clothes. I’ve said that I’ll do it before, but all I ever do is take everything out, fold it up and put it all back again. This time, I decided to be mean and make several piles of clothes: the “keep” pile, the “store” pile, and the “eBay” pile.

The “keep” pile is obviously the clothes that went back on my shelving, which mainly consists of my work clothes, weekend clothes, and nice going-out clothes. The “store” pile is a bag full of pants that are currently too small for me - but I’m putting them away for now, and when I’ve reached my first weight-loss goal, I’ll go through the bag and try all the pants on again. Hopefully the majority of them will fit! The “eBay” pile is the real mean pile - I actually found some clothes I no longer want - oh, the shock of it all - and I’m going to try my luck at selling them on eBay. Some of these clothes still have the tags on them!

Now, anyone that knows me personally will have probably had a coronary reading this post so far, because I am generally known as the clothes hoarder - I buy, buy and buy some more, but never get rid of anything. A couple of months ago I had to throw out a pair of cargo pants that had unrepairable holes - and I nearly cried. Such is the obsession with never throwing away clothes. It just does not happen.

So imagine how proud of myself I was when I went through my built-in wardrobe, and removed a pile of twenty items - four things I gave to my mum, and the other 16 are in a pile ready to be listed online.

Twenty things might not seem like a lot to some of you - and I’ll be honest, it’s only a tiny percentage of my entire wardrobe, but for me to have actually made up my mind to get rid of them, is a big deal.

So where does Murphy come into this? My good friend, Murphy, of Murphy’s Law - is a right asshole.

I have taken photos of said clothing items I want to sell, but now when I want to upload the photos onto my computer, I just can’t get it to work. Turns out that my Kodak software has a virus. So I’ve now uninstalled it and reinstalled it about 4 times this afternoon, and I still can’t upload my damn pictures. I’ve cracked the shits and have left it for now (to write this post, do you feel special?) but I will attempt it again soon, because I’m too damn stubborn to walk away.

Besides, if I don’t get these clothes listed soon, I know what’ll happen - I’ll lose my mean streak and put all the clothes away, and never get rid of them!

Curse you, Murphy!!!
(PS - you have a really shitty name, by the way)

The tale of the Stud-Finder

Dad went down to the hardware store this morning, with the specific intention of purchasing a stud-finder - a blokey device that detects where the framework of the wall is. It is especially useful for when you want to hang stuff on the wall, because you don’t want to put a nail through your wall into empty space - or even worse, electrical wiring - do you?

The stud-finder also appears to be good for calculating male self-esteem. Dad brought it home, pointed it at himself, and let the silence hang in the air before stating: “Nothing. Figures.”

Matt came home, walked into the kitchen and asked if that was the stud-finder sitting on the bench. Once I confirmed this, he said “I better not get too close then, I’ll probably blow it up!”

It’s good to see that modesty is one of my fiance’s main traits, no? Now I’m picturing walking down the aisle on my wedding day, and him standing at the end waiting for me throwing a tantrum and shouting: “Forget about her, look at me!!“

In other gossip, Mum dreamt last night that I told her I wanted a baby and that I was already trying to fall pregnant, and when she got really angry with me about it, I apparently told her to grow up! This particular dream was so traumatic that it woke her up at 1am, and then she got up and made a cup of coffee!
(Just to clarify - there is no way I’m having babies anytime soon. We only had this discussion yesterday when Mum mentioned all my Barbies in the ceiling, and why wouldn’t I sell them? I said I was keeping them for my own kids, and then stated that Barbie will be vintage by the time that happens! This got laughs from both Mum and her friend.)

Wax on, wax off!

I washed Matt’s car after work today.
(And although I didn’t actually wax or polish it, I’ve been dying to use this title for ages.)

Of course, the only way us drought-stricken folk can wash our cars at the moment is to go to a carwash. It was more fun than I’d imagined, actually. I don’t know if that means that I’m really starting to get into cars, or if it means I need to get out more.

I didn’t do an overly-spectacular job, but it’s a hell of a lot cleaner. And I think I did a damn good job for a limping unco person trying to operate a high-pressure spray gun and a broom.

I also managed to spray myself with said high-pressure spray gun - but at least it was when I was rinsing the car off and not soaping it up…

All that excitement and suds for the low price of $6.

I’m now looking forward to driving my own car again, because it’s putrid, and I know where I can take it!

I’ll need to get a bit more muscle before I wash my own car though, because every time I pulled the trigger on the spray gun the force of it made me take a backwards step!

Now that I’ve officially washed his car, that means I can lay claim to its ownership, right??

While we’re on the car subject, check out this totally funny car ad:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=irVpLor2djY
(This one has ladybird sex scenes, so might be a little offensive… but is funny!)

This isn’t the ad that is being shown in Australia - instead the ad that’s being played here is hundreds of ladybirds having a rave party, which is cute!

Did anyone say BLONDE?

…I am such an idiot. Well, maybe just blonde.

 Matt has been rather obsessed pre-occupied with a computer game his niece and nephew have been playing online (RuneScape for anyone who’s interested), so he’s been hogging the computer in our room. Most nights this means I have to sit on the bed and audibly sigh for an hour or so until he gets the hint and lets me check my emails.
(Yes, this is the same guy that would crack the shits when I would spend a couple of hours at a time scouring eBay instead of cuddling in front of the TV… but I’m expected not to say a word when he spends about 5 hours straight playing this stupid game, day after day. Man-logic much?)

I was sitting on the edge of the bed watching Matt play, when Dad walks past and says “Do you want to go on the internet? Why don’t you use my computer?”

You know how Wile. E. Coyote gets smashed with a massive anvil in just about every time he chases Road Runner? I got hit with an anvil of realisation.

We have 4 computers in this house. Mine, Mum’s, Dad’s, and Dad’s laptop. (Not bad, hey?) TWO of them are connected to the internet… and I totally forgot that Dad got a network set up between my computer and his.
This is before the other stuff we have - 5 TVs, 3 VCR’s, 4 DVD players, 2 surround systems, 2 stereos, a PS2, and good old cable TV.

I am so blonde. I’ve been so obsessed with wrangling my computer back from the dragon-slaying other half that I forgot about all the other technology sitting in this house. (Imagine me slapping my forehead here.)

So, today’s post comes to you courtesy of my lovely Dad. Give him props, okay?
Despite the fact that I’m sitting in the dark, stuffy, tiny, over-furnished spare room with no fans and no windows open, it’s quite comfortable. Dad’s keyboard is surprisingly easier to use than mine. Although I’m planning on getting another wireless keyboard and mouse set soon - don’t ask what happened to the old one. Oh okay, you convinced me. The wireless transmitter thingy doubled as a battery charger, and one day, my Dad stuck non-rechargable batteries into the charger. And deaded it.

I’ve been following in Jennie’s shoe-obsessed footsteps recently, but I do have good reason. My ankle is still healing, and although I’m stupidly bravely shunning the crutches a week or so earlier than I probably should, I still can’t wear anything with a slight heel. Most of my work shoes are heels, so I was left with two pairs of flats, which is totally unacceptable! So what does this mean? SHOE SHOPPING! I needed more flats, so yesterday my bestest-buddy Kelly (no, I’m not making that up - we actually have the same name) came and picked me up in my her lovely purple Jazz and we went out for lunch. I mentioned my need for shoes, so we went to our local clearance outlet. And I went a wee bit crazy. Trying on heels that I can’t wear but lust over anyway. A few pairs were so high I would have been able to look Matt straight in the eye had he been standing in front of me - which is saying something, with me being 5′5″ and him being 6′2″.

I walked away with two pairs of flats. The first pair are a royal blue colour, and they have ribbon woven around the tops and side, and then a bow on the side. Very cute.

The second pair… well, I think they’re awesome, but everyone thinks I’m crazy for getting them, because they’re, er, a bit different. They’re black, with a pointy toe, and a cute little strap going across the top. They sound fairly harmless, don’t they?
But… they are furry. They had the same pair in leopard print, but they looked tacky, so I just got the plain black ones. Kelly thought I was crazy, and my Mum tells me they feel like a dead cow (how would she know what a dead cow feels like?!), but concedes that they look good on. Matt actually thinks they’re funky!

I know now that you’ll be dying to see what they look like. I’ve taken photos, but I’ll have to wait until I can get back on my own computer to upload them, because I refuse to install my camera on Dad’s computer as well… but trust me, they’re cool.

I shall be back with visual goodness - once someone is evicted from Dragon-Land.

Men…

Q. What do you do when you don’t have access to the internet at work?

A. You blog in an email and send it to yourself.

Venting required… please bear with me.

I am so sick of not having my independence… it’s very tempting to get into my car (with newly repaired gearbox!) and start driving myself to work again.

The men in my house are currently at each other’s throats over the car/driving issue. Matt drove me to work in my car and had trouble with the gearbox. Dad drove my car and said that the gearbox was sloppy as hell, and that it wasn’t to be driven until it was fixed. Dad said Matt would have to have a look at it, since he’s the more mechanically-minded of the two. Matt didn’t look. Dad went down to the library on his own and spent the better part of an hour going through the manual for my car and photocopying the information on the gearbox, before giving the pages to Matt and telling him to look at it.

Matt deemed it “too hard”, because apparently most of the front end had to be taken apart to get access. Dad got angry.

And so my Dad, who does not have a mechanical bone in his body, fixed my car all by himself. It took him two days to do a job that could have taken a mechanic a couple of hours. He also had to drive out to the wreckers in his car twice, once to get the part, and another time to get the bolt that was missing.

Now Dad is shitty because he did it on his own, and apparently Matt didn’t offer to help…

The next suggestion was that Matt and I swap cars for a week so that I can drive myself to work, since Matt’s car is automatic. I would be able to drive myself, and Matt could drive my car, since he works closer to home.

But Matt won’t allow me to drive his car unless he’s in it, claiming that if I had an accident the excess would be over $2000. I’ve never had an accident (except for that stupid bitch that ran a give way sign in the carpark, but NOT MY FAULT!)… How’s that for faith in your other half?

So, I can’t drive my own car, and Matt won’t let me drive his, which infuriates my Dad further - and now they’re not talking.

If only I hadn’t rolled my ankle on Boxing Day… grrr…

And in a pure twist of irony, Mum brought home a copy of “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus”. Guess what February’s book of the month will be?

I did it!

I finished my detox yesterday! Boy, am I glad.

I do admit though, that I do feel a lot better after not being caffiene-dependant for 10 days. The first half was hell, but I’ve adjusted to functioning without it - so whether or not this means I drink less Coke Zero than I used to remains to be seen. I had a bottle with my lunch, and it just didn’t taste as good as I remembered…

One of Matt’s cousins is getting married in early March, and it looks like Matt wants to go, which will be interesting. I’ve never met this particular cousin, and apparently the girl he’s marrying is a few cents short of a picnic. (I did say apparently, but from what I’ve heard…) If Matt decides to go, we’re going to need to take the Friday off work to drive up/down to Hervey Bay and stay in a hotel the night before the wedding, then come home Saturday night. Oh, and I’d need to go on some sort of crash diet to fit into a nice outfit, because I refuse to be the ‘fat fiancee’. I hope he makes up his mind on whether or not he’s going because I’ll need to see if I can have the time off…

I’m going now to stalk a pair of shoes I’m bidding for on eBay, and I’ll leave you with today’s sticker…

Sticker of the day #1

Today we’ll have a Simpsons sticker:

 

One of the girls I work with has the “spider pig” ringtone, so whenever it rings, Homer bursts into song. It’s an addictive tune!

(Also, in my professional baby photos, I have my fingertips together like Mr Burns does when he says ‘excellent…’, so, does that make me evil?)

Stick it!

I have a secret: I have a bumper sticker addiction. You heard me. A bumper sticker addiction. Have had for years.

I’m not talking about car bumper stickers, either - although there are some out there that are quite funny. The best one I’ve seen to date says “I’d slap you, but shit splatters.”

My bumper sticker addiction has a lot to do with this site: internetbumperstickers.com
I found it years ago, and I have been giggling ever since.

There are awesome blogging bumper-stickers, some of my favourites are these:

Then there’s just plain snarky ones:

And then these (appropriately grouped under the “Stoopid” heading):

Ha. I got you with that last one, didn’t I?

There, I’ve done it. I spilled a secret. And I’ve decided that for the next few weeks or so, I’ll post a new sticker everyday, kind of like a quote of the day thing.

Until tomorrow…

The Internet was closed so I thought I’d come outside today.*

(*The title is about my Threadless tees. I’ll get to that. But first… a rant!) 

I am sooooooooo looking forward to this Tuesday.

Just an ordinary Tuesday to most… but I get my very first pay from my new job on Tuesday! Yay!

I am desperate to get paid, because my new job pays monthly, and I haven’t been paid since the 14th of December - meaning, I’ve had to make one week’s pay last one month. No easy feat, I tell you. I would be royally screwed if I weren’t still living at home. I have a grand total of $1.50 to my name… and that’s after borrowing $200 from the joint account. Yikes. Oh, and did I mention that I accidently went over my credit card limit? By five dollars… but still. Not good.

On Tuesday morning, I should be able to check my account and see 6 weeks pay sitting there. Keep your fingers crossed for me, okay?

—

For the first time since Christmas Eve, I actually got to drive a car and go out on my own. I think Matt got sick of me moping around was feeling sympathetic and handed me his keys, and said to be careful. I have never fully appreciated automatic transmission until today, let me tell you! Driving around was great, but getting in and out of the shops on my crutches was just plain painful. You wouldn’t believe how many people walked straight at me, and then realised that I wasn’t going to move at the last second, so they got out of the way. I got lots of stares at my foot, too. Stupid people. Make way for the cripple!

—

I know I’ve been slack with showing off my Threadless tees, considering I got them a few weeks ago. My original plan was to model each tee and then take pics of them for you… but you wouldn’t believe quickly I’ve ballooned since I hurt my ankle. They fit perfectly when I first got them, but now… yeuch. Guess there’s not a lot I can do about the weight gain until I’m a little more active. (Sympathy here would be greatly appreciated.)

Anyway, my shirts. I saw this one first and I realised I just had to have it. The family had a bit of a laugh when it arrived:

And this one - this one is me, for sure. I posted a little while ago saying how peas are my most hated vegetable, and when I saw this shirt… I had to have it! You have to admit it though… these peas are pretty cute, with their wee little helmets…aww!

—

I know this post feels like it’s going on forever… but I just have one more thing to say. Matt and I went to see I Am Legend last night, and it was pretty good. It wasn’t quite what I was expecting, but it was good. There were a few funny bits, a lot of sad parts, and even more scary parts. I have to say though, that what first made me want to see it was the fact that Will Smith’s in it. I love Will Smith, I’ll see just about anything he’s in. I wasn’t disappointed, either. There was this one scene in the movie where he’s working out, doing chin-ups and stuff, shirtless, and oh my. It was hawt.

One tip, though: If you’re ever on crutches, don’t think you’ll manage going to a movie. Seriously. It was so hard trying to get comfortable, and the cinema was nearly packed so I couldn’t stick my leg up on the back of the seat in front… it was just awkward.

Thanks to everyone who commented on my new layout… I wasn’t too sure about it, but everyone likes it, and hey, it’s growing on me! It’s a bit more simple!

Delurk Day!

Okay, look, I know I’m a day late, but as the old saying goes, better late than never.

But I couldn’t resist, I mean, how cute is this cartoon?
(As cute as a cartoon flasher can be, I guess.)

So if I have any lurkers out there, I’d really like to meet you! And I promise to visit your blogs and comment, too!