The leap day of the leap year.

I never used to think that the leap year was that cool. February gets an extra day - so what? As my Mum said once, there are plenty of months in the year that have 31 days, it would be easier to pinch two of them and give them to February, then February would have 30 days. What’s with the 28-day month anyway?

This time around though, I was intrigued. Especially when I heard that it’s the ‘accepted’ day for a woman to propose to her man.

Is that sexist or what? We’re supposed to wait for the commitment-phobe species for 4 years, and that one day we’re allowed to pop the question? Puh-leaze.

My Mum proposed to my Dad, and I know damn well it wasn’t on Feburary 29, because they got married on February 18, 1984 - and 1984 was a leap year! (If you have trouble calculating it, think of every year the Olympics has been held since WWII ended - every single one is held during a leap year.)

Her proposal consisted of the following statement: “So are we gonna get married, or what? If I’m good enough to live with, I’m good enough to marry.”

And they’ve been happily married for 24 years. I can also tell you they met over a bowl of peanuts in January 1983, a week after my Dad arrived in Australia. Mum had a lot of Welsh friends, and Dad being Welsh, joined the crowd when he flew over. Isn’t that sweet?

I don’t think you should have to wait for that one day in every 4 years to demand commitment. Hell, it was spoken about so often on TV that he would know it was coming! Surprise him! And then make him buy you some serious bling.

Mind you, I can’t talk from experience or anything. Matt was the one that started dragging me around to different jewellers to look in the window. (Awwwwww. Are you feeling sick? One of my friends at work reckons my relationship makes her sick. Maybe cause she’s single.)

Oh, yeah, and I posted today. I won’t get another opportunity to do this for another 4 years!

Due for holeyness

So, it’s been nearly a month since I got my 4th piercing - run down is here - and I must admit, I’m a bit paranoid. I’ve found a few bits of dried blood behind my ears, so today I decided to go up and see the piercer at lunchtime.

Apparently, my ears are perfect, despite me finding a bit of blood and other gunk.

It seems that piercings are affected by what time of the month it is for us ladies. So when she asked me if I was due, I said no, of course, since I haven’t had a period for over a year - since I’m on Depo (is this TMI) - and she reckons that even though I don’t actually have a period, there’s still that time of the month that makes my piercings go funny. To which I said “well, I don’t know what time that is, because I haven’t had one for so long!” - to which one of my work buddies responded: “well, now, obviously.”

And that is why my ears are fine, despite me finding blood and pus. Lovely.

Torn between an egg and a fast pace.

I’ve made it my mission to replace my car (affectionately known as “The Egg”) in the first half of this year.

I love my car - I’m very emotionally attached to it. It’s my first car. I learned to drive in it, I got my licence in it, and I’ve had it nearly two years. But the poor little thing is starting to fall apart at the seams. Since I’ve had it, I’ve had numerous things replaced on it: the clutch, engine mounts, various hoses, a shaft boot, gearbox selectors, gearbox bushes, the complete reverse gear, a couple of tyres, brakes, and other things I know I’ve forgotten about.

My car has it’s upsides, too - it’s very small, so I can park it just about anywhere, and it runs on the smell of an oily rag. In fact, I sometimes think I could spit in the fuel tank and it would be enough to get me around for a week!

I don’t drive a lot, mainly just to and from work, because Matt does the majority of the driving. I think this is because he’s got a newer, better car, and hey, he’s got a pretty massive car loan, so we may as well get our money’s worth, yeah? But I love to drive, especially when there’s no rush to be anywhere, the road’s fairly traffic free, and then it’s enjoyable.

Those 7 weeks I couldn’t drive my car, I was devastated. My independence was gone… and I absolutely hated it. When I got back into my car the other week, it was awesome. I didn’t even mind the peak hour traffic!

I mention my car now, because the original plan was to trade it in towards the end of April, when the rego is due for renewal. But there’s now a proverbial spanner in the works.

A couple of the people Matt worked with resigned, and they finished up on Friday. One of them was responsible for the work ute - taking it home of a night, and on weekends.

Matt was given the ute on Friday, and at the moment it looks like he’s going to have it indefinitely. Which is great for him, because he gets around in a ute he doesn’t have to maintain, and he also gets a fuel card for it… free petrol! However, we barely have enough driveway to store three cars, let alone four! So on Friday night, I drove Matt’s car up to his Mum’s house so it could be parked safely in her backyard.

We’ve discussed it today, and if Matt does have the ute indefinitely, that means his car’s going to be sitting there unused. And considering he’s paying roughly $500 a month in repayments and insurance, it’s a pretty stupid idea for his car just to sit there.

So the idea was… I try and sell my car now, and then drive Matt’s until I buy another one.

I’m being a typical emotional female here. I mean, it’s just a car, right? A car that could probably make it up a small hill faster if you pushed it. A car that needs a new engine. A car that water gets into when it rains. A car that’s becoming so unreliable I’m starting to rejoice when it completes the 28km round trip to work every day. And yet, I know I’m going to bawl my eyes out when it goes. It’s my car, and I love it. I own it outright. I have adorned it with butterfly and heart glass stickers and a teddy bear light that goes in my cigarette lighter. It has the ding in the side of it from my first accident (stupid bitch) and it crunches whenever I turn right (CV joints…) but it is mine.

And yet, I know, that when I buy my new(er) car, and drive it for the first time, that I’m going to be over the moon. A car that accelerates! A car with power steering! A car with all the mod cons like air conditioning and a CD player!

But my car! My poor little egg… our time together is even more limited than I had originally planned. And I’m very, very, very sorry, but… you just don’t do it for me anymore. I’m afraid the lure of a newer car, in better condition, with an extra set of doors and power steering is just becoming too great.
(My eyes are watering now, see, I told you I was being typically emotional.)

It looks like I’ve got one more week with my egg, before Matt lists it for sale and it’s confined to the front yard until someone comes along and is able to provide it with more love and TLC than I can. I’ll have to clean it out - there’s still jackets in the backseat from last winter! - take off my seat and steering wheel covers - sigh - and prepare to part ways…

I’m going to cry like a kid who had it’s lollipop stolen when it’s sold. At this point, I’m not even thinking about how much I want for it. It’s the emotional attachment. Hell, I’ve even scrapbooked about my car!

On the upside, I’ll be driving Matt’s car which has twice the power under the bonnet (uh oh!), power steering, CD player… but it won’t be the same.

I bet, in a month or two, when I have my new car, I’ll link back to this and laugh myself stupid. But for now, my heart is breaking (yeah yeah, overdramatic much?).

Would anyone like to join me in my totally ridiculous pity party?

Lightning McType

Okay, so I’ve seen this typing test doing the rounds, and Katie did it, so I thought I’d test myself.

Here’s what I got:

78 words

Pretty damn good, considering last weekend I got my acrylics back on and they’ve slowed me down! Stupid typos.. but that’s my fastest speed ever! YAY! (PS. I finally got my iPod Shuffle yesterday! Am currently bopping along to Paramore!)

Blue, lilac and a shock of pink!

I went out with my Mum this morning, for our usual bill-paying slash breakfast slash girl-time.

I can’t remember how we got on to the topic - it might have been after talking about going to Matt’s cousin’s wedding in 2 weeks - but we ended up talking about my wedding. Which will be 18 months away on the 12th of March (which is our 2 year anniversary). Talking about my wedding in general with my Mum is huge, because she’s totally against me marrying Matt. Oh, I’m such a rebel.

But, the wedding was discussed, and the conversation was positive. Cue the shock of pink, because I was definitely not expecting this!

Mum said that she’d been thinking about what she was going to wear, and she was thinking about either a pale blue or lilac. (I should mention here that at any previous mention of the wedding, Mum has said she’d turn up in black, to mourn.) I said these were the colours I was thinking about using, since blue is Matt’s favourite colour and purple is mine. I also asked if she’d be willing to help me make the corsages, since she made the ones for her brother’s wedding years ago, and she said yes! And she said she’d help me make the invites too. The bonus here is that my BFF is a graphic designer in training, and by the time the wedding rolls around, she’ll be fully qualified. She’s offered to help me too!

Then we got onto the topic of bridesmaids, and Mum asked if I was going to ask my BFF. I said I was actually going to ask her to be maid of honour, but she doesn’t know yet. I’ve given her a hint, though - months ago she was showing me the dress she wore to her Year 12 formal, and I said “well, you could wear that to my wedding, but I’ve got other plans for you.” So at the moment, I have a maid of honour, but no bridesmaids…

Hey, all you married girls out there, is it normal to have an “OHMIGOD, I’m actually getting married!” moment? Because it sounds stupid, but it’s only just starting to sink in, despite the fact I’ve been engaged for 14 months!

I’m starting to picture bits and pieces of it - I’m pretty sure we’re going with a traditional church wedding, probably just close family and friends, and a damn good party afterwards! As for the honeymoon, who knows…

All this wedding talk is making me feel woozy…

The weekend to come.

I had great intentions of writing a witty post, but… it ain’t gonna happen.

Although, I went shopping, and bought an armband for an iPod Shuffle I’ve been wanting for ages. Except both stores I went to were sold out of Shuffles. So I have an armband, but no iPod. Practical!

I don’t know if I mentioned this, but last week I moved to my proper desk at work, and the hotels were split up. I work in the Accounts Payable department for a massive Aussie company, and they own just under 100 hotels, pubs and clubs. And I now have 22 of my own to look after. Woohoo! I’ve been freaking out about moving to my new desk, because I have a massive phone phobia. Go figure. I just hate phones; answering them, calling people, talking to people, it just freaks me out… it’s been nearly two weeks now since I’ve had a phone, and I’m starting to get the hang of it again. The phones in our department are set up so that if someone dials a number and that person is already on a call, it bounces around until it gets a free line. The majority of my calls so far have been redirections, which has been okay.

I’m leaving work at 3pm tomorrow to start my long weekend. I worked back until 7pm last night so I get that two hours off tomorrow. I’m planning on going to the gym, and seeing if I can finally get that damn iPod. Mum and Dad are going out to a birthday party tomorrow night so I’m deciding whether or not I want to cook… and Monday is Mum’s birthday so I’m having my RDO to spend the day with her. A group of us are going out for lunch on her birthday - and I’m secretly organising a cake to be brought out after the meal.

Who really wears the pants?

On the topic of Matt and I getting our own house:

Matt: “I’m going to be the man of the house!”
Me: “And I’m going to wear the pants!

Silence. Oh, but if looks could kill…

The one where I get a bit too snap-happy

I finally got around to reinstalling my camera. It worked. No virus warnings. Yay!

What does a girl do when she has her camera operational? She takes photos… duh.

I shut myself in the bathroom and proceeded to take some damn good Myspace-esque shots.
(I say I shut myself in the bathroom because one time I was taking photos of my new haircolour with the door open, and Dad saw all the flashes up the hallway and yelled out “oh no, Kelly’s been cornered by the paparrazi!”)

Then I remembered I promised I’d post a pic of my newly repierced earlobes… so here it is:

Hot, huh?

While I was snapping away, I thought hey, my blog photo’s a bit old now (August ‘07), so why not put up a new one?

So I snapped, and snapped, and snapped. And oh God, I am such a poser. It’s pathetic. But, I got a good few shots, and now I’ve narrowed it down to these:

I’m personally a fan of #1, because I somehow managed (arse, not class) to show the fact that I actually have cheekbones. And double chin, what double chin?

But hey, I’ll let you help me pick. And if I’m feeling particularly up myself one day, I might even scrapbook these. Hah.

Oh, and if anyone asks why I’ve got so many photos of myself up here… blame Matt. He went out and left me behind. Aww.

Fun Facts about my Fiancè

Because I love alliteration. And my fiancè, of course.

I was going to do a lovey dovey post for Valentine’s Day, but then I realised that our anniversary is a little under a month away, so I thought I’d save the sappiness for then.

So let’s have some fun facts about Matt:

# His favourite colour by far is blue. He likes silver/grey too. But if it comes in blue, he wants it blue.
# His car is blue - that’s partly why he picked it. He saw it in the caryard and went “oooh, I gotta look at the pretty blue car!”
# He loves Family Guy… especially Stewie. One of my friends gave him a Stewie mug that says “Victory will be mine!!!” and he loves it. This year’s V-Day pressie from me is a pair of boxers with Stewie saying “There’s treachery afoot!” because I know I can’t go wrong with Family Guy.
# Matt had the misfortune of experiencing a broken nose - someone shoved him face down into a car (asshole). But you wouldn’t know his nose has been broken, because the cartilage split down the centre of his nose, and not across it. No bump!
# There’s a man made mini-waterfall on a main road near my house. Back in his prankster days, Matt and one of his friends emptied an entire box of washing powder into said waterfall, then ran. Apparently there were so many bubbles they made a huge foamy road block. I think this might have made the news…
# His favourite word while road-raging is “cockhead”.
# He is VERY ticklish. He tried to hide it at first, but considering he’d get the giggles just about every time I touched him, he had to ‘fess up. And now when he gets cranky, I just tickle
# HE LOVES ME! And this is why I always tell him he’s crazy. But I’m very lucky!

And, Matt just walked in the door with a long stemmed red rose and a celtic ring I’ve been eyeing off for ages. Sigh.

Is love.

Happy V-Day everyone! And if you hate Valentine’s Day - I used to loathe it myself - buy yourself something nice

The one where I throw a HISSY-FIT!

The Good News
I drove my car for the first time since Christmas Eve. No pain in my ankle. I can drive again! Yay!
It was only local, but it’s a great start. The big test will be when I have to drive to work tomorrow. I’m going in early so I’ll miss the morning peak-hour, but the afternoon drive home will be interesting.

The Evil Bad News
 I weighed myself. And I cried. Every single ounce of weight I worked my ass off to lose over the entire year that was 2007 I managed to put back on in a measly 7 weeks. I’m now at my highest weight EVER. I know this isn’t really my fault, I obviously didn’t plan on tearing up the ligaments in my ankle, and I didn’t plan to be on crutches with the inability to walk, but damn. Talk about beating a girl over the head with the “worthless” stick. I really don’t want to have to start all. over. again.

Matt came into the room and saw the scales, and asked if he could weigh himself. Sure, I said. Someone should get a decent reading out of it. He asked what number I got… and after I hesitantly told him, he said “that’s not bad”. Sweet of him, but we both know I’ve reverted back to lard-ball status.

I’m going to ‘officially’ weigh myself again tomorrow morning before breakfast, and then start kicking my own ass again. Getting my ears pierced again has awoken the piercing bug, and I want my belly button done next - but I refuse to do it while I’m this size. It’s meant to be a reward!

Sigh.