Fun Fun Friday!

Last Friday, I had a terrible day, which I recapped purely to get it off my chest.

This Friday, though, was great.

Firstly, there was no lunch in the fridge at work to be stolen.

Secondly, I was told that if everything was done by lunchtime, I could go home early. And I left at 1pm.

And thirdly, I was very popular at work today, because of my overnight transformation:

It may sound stupid, and vain, but it actually felt really nice to walk in the door this morning and have half a dozen people crowd around me and exclaim “Oh my God, your hair looks fantastic!!!” and ask me all about it. I also got more comments as the day went on.

And I must admit, I love the new hair. I’ve been lightening it up for a bit now, but over the last week I decided to take the plunge and go full-on white blonde. My fringe was giving me the shits too. I was trying to grow it asymmetrically so it would be a nice length for my wedding, but I got sick of it. It never sat right, it always looked greasy even after I washed it… and I was over it. It took me over 9 months to grow that fringe out, and it was gone in 30 seconds. Looking at it now, I definitely don’t miss it!

One of my workmates has now “banned” me from wearing eyeshadow from now on. She said the new colour makes my eyes pop, as well as making me more mature and slimming my face (WOW!), and if I were to wear eyeshadow, it would ruin it.

Here’s another photo, bit bigger:

Just for future reference, I had my scalp bleached, and then toner through it to take the yellow out. And folks, scalp bleaching HURTS. I’ve had it done before. This time wasn’t quite as bad because it was a cold night… but one the bleach was washed out, my hairdresser cut my hair, and then put the toner in. As soon as she started combing my hair… OUCH. But it’s worth it. And now that it’s done, I’ll only need the regrowth done, so it won’t be this bad again.

Matt is very happy with the new colour, although I didn’t do it for him, I did it for me! I was white blonde when we first met, see, and he swears to this day that’s what caught his attention. When he came home last night and saw me, he sniffed my hair (apparently he likes the peroxide smell?!), and has been wolf-whistling at me ever since. He even said to me while we were in the car “Look out lady, because if my other half sees you, she’s gonna be pissed!”
I guess that means I look like a totally different person?

Another couple of tidbits that made my day even better:

- I found the earrings and necklace set that Matt gave me for my birthday. I lost them a few months ago… but they were safe in the box they arrived in!
- Four months after I got my 3rd set of ear piercings, I was finally able to change the earrings myself. All traces of infection are gone, so let’s just hope it stays that way!

Dude On Stall Harasses Sick Shopper

You know those people that set up a little stall in the middle of the shopping centre and lure people over? I hate them. I will try and avoid them at all costs. I’ve even been known to walk around the outside of the centre to get to a certain shop instead of through the centre so I don’t get hassled.

My favourite story of these makeshift stalls was when my gym was down there trying to recruit members. There was a young woman on the stall, fit, toned and terrific. I started to walk past, and she looked me up and down and must have thought “Well, she needs a bit of work” - because she went to talk to me. It was very satisfying to snap “I’m already a member!” and keep walking.

Until today, that was my favourite story.

I was down the shops today buying tissues and lip balm for my mum (who is now sick, and I know exactly how she feels), when I saw not one, but two stalls set up. I forget what one was, but the other was some sort of conservation fund.

I walked past once with no problems - they already had people to harrass. But as I walked back, with two bags of shopping, mobile phone out to look busy, the conservation guy thought he’d have a crack at dragging me over. Funny thing was, I had a sinking feeling as I walked back that someone was going to try and talk me into something…

Him: Hi! (Grins at me like an idiot, trying to charm me. Wanker.)
Me: Hi… (I keep walking)
Him: Come here?
Me still walking… walking away.
Him: Come here! COME HERE! Oi! Ohhhhhh…..

Now, I’m not one to be rude. If someone says hi to me, I’ll say hi back. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to acquiesce to his request to “come here”. Especially not with a blocked nose, high temperature and being on the verge of descending into a pleghm-producing coughing fit. (Too much information?)

Seriously, though, who the hell yells out “come here!” to some random person trying to go about their shopping? The only one who can say “come here” to me and get away with it is Matt, and it would want to be for a damn good reason - a nice kiss or a hug, for example - or I’d slap him for his rudeness. The guy acted, and looked, in my honest opinion, like a total wank.

The stupid thing is, I felt guilty as hell for continuing to go about my shopping.

I mulled it over as I headed back to the car - new car! SQUEE! - and I came to the conclusion that he would have wanted one of four things had I walked over to him:

a) To waste my time;
b) To try and get me to sign my life away;
c) To get money out of me; or
d) All of the above.

And you know what? Stuff him! Because:

a) My time is valuable, or at least I think so;
b) I sign nothing except the paperwork when I use my credit card, which I’ve been doing a lot of lately, because;
c) Between the mechanic and Queensland Transport, I have no money because I forked out over $2000 to get my car on the road yesterday. I should mention that the $2000 was cash, too. No plastic. Crisp $100 notes that made me cry as I handed them over; and
d) Well, that’s it really, but the last one of these had 4 points, so I figured this one should too.

I’m pretty sure the guy was there for a good cause, saving furry animals, or even trying to save his own arse. He probably wasn’t the devil incarnate, or an axe murderer. I just hate being pressured into stuff. Especially by strange people who have fake smiles and their fingers crossed behind their back.

Next question: Is there anyone left out there that would use my name and “sane” together in a sentence?

Free! Free! FREE!

Well, I am, anyway!

My car is on the road! Woohoo! Sweet, sweet independence!

It’s still blue, but that will change on the weekend. At this point, I don’t care that the paintwork is crap… I’m just glad it’s driveable.

You don’t want to know how much I paid the mechanic. Mind you, he’s an honest guy and doesn’t charge anywhere near as much as other places, and I’m safe in the knowledge that there’s absolutely nothing mechanically wrong with the car. It still hurt handing over the money though!

My personalised purple plates are on… I fought for an hour or so with my seat covers, and I got a dashmat, which promptly flew off at me when I reversed out the driveway. I guess I’ll need to stick it down with the provided velcro after all.

But - car! Mine! Independence! Wheels!

Pics soon!

Sickness confirmed

After a weekend of not being able to get out of bed (bar Dad’s birthday lunch), I figured I should call in sick and drag myself down to the doctors.

It’s confirmed, folks. The “Sinus Infection From Hell” has returned. Or maybe it never fully cleared up last time? Don’t know. But it’s painful. Also, not only do I have bad sinuses, but my throat is bad too. Joy. I got a doctor’s certificate for today and tomorrow, so that I can rest up before having to go back to work on Wednesday.
(I had a pretty good sleep last night, which Matt just confirmed by informing me that I snored because I was trying to breathe through my nose. Give a sick woman a break…)

The extra pain came when it was time to pay for my antibiotics. Sixty dollars, people. Considering that 2 months ago I still had a current concession card and would have got the exact same medication for about $10. It’s an expensive business, getting sick. Gah. I’ve got a repeat on them too. They better work the first time!

Oh, and how’s this? When I was paying for my medication, the guy (who’s always there) says to me: “Do you still have that sinus infection?!”

I’m finally getting around to updating some stuff around here, slowly. There’s some stuff on the list that I’ve gotten done, and I’d forgotten all about my 100 things list, so I’m going to update that and put it back up. Once it’s done, I’ll feel better.

I should have some exciting news tomorrow! More later…

F$*# Me, It’s Friday!

One of the girls at work wore a singlet with that phrase emblazoned across it last Friday. Obviously she had another shirt over the top of it, but it tickled my fancy.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to see a Friday night roll around. To quote Comic Book Guy and put my own twist on it: “Worst. Week. Ever.”

Topping the week off nicely, was discovering upon arrival at work this morning that some conniving, sneaky, low-life FUCKING THIEF stole my unopened lunch out of the fridge and ATE IT ALL. Who the hell steals other people’s food and eats it?! I hope they enjoyed it, because it cost me $6 from the lunch van. And I was looking forward to eating it today. Bastard.

I’m sick at the moment, so I think everyone knew to stay away from today’s repurchased lunch in the fridge. I also wrote on it in purple ballpoint pen “Kelly’s lunch - NOT YOURS!”, which might have helped as well. I’m investing in a black marker this weekend, so that exact phrase slaps you across the face when you open the fridge door.

Do you want to know what annoys me when I’m sick? This:
“Eewwww, don’t breathe on me!”
Yeah, because I’m feeling shit hot, and I’m going to go around the office licking people. Seriously.

When I first complained of feeling sick, I got asked if I was pregnant. Which I’m not.
Then I continued feeling like I was going to projectile vomit all over my desk, so somebody else asked me if I was pregnant. Which I’m not. And I think they all might have gotten the message when I snapped “I’m not pregnant! It is IMPOSSIBLE for me to be pregnant right now. Okay?!”

I’m afraid that if I wipe my nose just once more, it’ll drop off. Which might be less painful than the constant wiping. I was on the phone to a supplier today, and since I couldn’t blow my nose down the receiver, I plugged my nostril with a tissue and held it in place - which got giggles from my friends. I must have looked real sexy today, no make-up, red nose, and the white tissue accessory hanging from one side of my face.

What was nice about today, though, is that I got some muchly-anticipated stamping supplies in the mail. Yay! I can now see about making Matt’s birthday card. I made one for Dad for Sunday and it came up pretty damn awesome, if I may say so myself!

I’m off to stamp myself into oblivion!

The Hardest Week

I’ve dropped off the face of the earth this past week, both from blogging, and in reality, to some extent. This week has been hard, trying, and incredibly painful, all rolled into one.

You see, on Tuesday night, I had to say goodbye to my best friend:

Snuggles
July 30, 1991 - May 13, 2008

Snuggles really was my best friend. We got him when I was 3 and a half - and he was 4 weeks old - and Mum had to get up every 2 hours to feed him mashed up puppy food and milk through an eye dropper. She was worried that he wouldn’t make it, but he did, and he’s stuck by us ever since.

He was a wonderfully happy dog, with lots of weird and wonderful habits. Up until about a month ago, he was very happy, despite his loss of sight, hearing, and teeth. Every time you pulled into the driveway, the sound of the car would have him running up to the gate to see who was home, and he’d always whine until you picked him up and gave him a hug.

Last week was really hard for him. He seemed disoriented at times, almost like he didn’t recognise you, or he’d walk somewhere, but forget where he was and walk into things trying to find his way back. On Tuesday morning, Mum went downstairs at 3am after hearing him yelping, to find him in his basket and unable to move. She went to pick him up, but he wouldn’t let her. I went down and held him before I went to work. He was in pain, but he let me hold him anyway. He was the one in pain, and yet he was comforting me…

Tuesday night, Matt and I realised that he needed to be checked out urgently, so we found a 24hr vet and took him down. The vet looked him over, and said that the kindest thing we could do for him would be to let him go to sleep. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but aside from the infection in his last remaining tooth, she guessed that he had an internal problem that he’d had for quite some time, but he was now too weak to fight it.

So I bawled my eyes out, called home, bawled some more, and then made the decision. If there was any doubt left, it was banished when Snuggles lifted his head and looked at me. The look in his eyes… he was telling me that it was okay, and that he was tired. We went into a more comfortable room, I signed the paperwork, and held him until it was all over. Then we wrapped him in a blanket and brought him home.

The hardest part now is coming to terms with the fact that he really is gone. We’ve buried him in a garden in the backyard and now we’re working on making it a lovely place for him. Although I was with him at the end, and I watched him slip away, it’s still a shock to walk past through garden and see the yard and the laundry empty. He’s home, but it’s hard to fathom the fact that he’s actually in the ground. Yes, he was 17 years old, and he had a great life, but it doesn’t make it any easier at the end.

I don’t remember life before Snuggles. I sure as hell won’t forget life with him. The difficult part now, is life after him. I won’t have another dog, I’m fairly certain. And that may sound strange, a 20 year old saying they’ll never have another dog, but there was only one Snuggles, and there will only ever be one Snuggles. No other animal will ever come close to replacing him, or hold a spot in my heart anywhere near as large as he does. He is simply irreplacable.

All of Wednesday I was consumed with guilt, and the only image in my head was the one of him laying in my arms on the vet’s table. I was worried that would be all I remembered of him, and while Matt assured me it wouldn’t be, I still panicked.

Until I remembered all the good times - him trying to dry his ears after a bath by rubbing his face on the carpet; him ripping up newspaper as a puppy; watching him chase toys across the vinyl in the kitchen and cringing when he didn’t stop in time and skidded headfirst into the door.

Years ago, we used to leave him in the backyard when we went out, and when we came back, he was sitting by the back door. We had no idea how he did it - Dad patched up every possible hole he could crawl though. One day, we decided to try and catch him in the act. The three of us got in the car, drove around the corner, parked the car and walked back to the house. Lo and behold - we caught him mid-escape, climbing the gate!

Snuggles left his mark everywhere he went - there’s a stain on the carpet where he peed in an act of defiance to prove it - and he loved almost everyone he met. He especially loved Matt, and although at first he was pissed off with him for sleeping in my bed and leaving no room for him, he grew to love him.

I have his collar on my desk. It still smells. Snuggles was one of those dogs that no matter how often you washed him, he always smelt doggy.

I’m trying not to cry, because he hated it when I cried. Whenever I was sick or upset, he’d cling to my side and wouldn’t leave me alone until I felt better. He liked me best when I had food. Especially cheese or ice cream. He hated peas, just like me. He was always bullied by cats, but a couple of months ago he bailed up one for the very first time - I was so proud.

There are a lot of mixed emotions going on. I still expect to see him when I come home, and when I go downstairs to do laundry. I know that I brought him home wrapped in a blanket and we buried him. Sometimes I swear I can hear him barking at the dog in the next yard, or whining because it’s past his dinner-time. I guess the only way I can fully sum up my feelings at the moment is with just one sentence…

I miss my dog.

Thirsty Merc! Live! Thirsty Frickin’ Merc!!!

Just came back from seeing Thirsty Merc live.

Two words: FUCKING AWESOME!

You know how some bands sound crap live? Not these guys! I’m so buzzed… that might have something to do with the alcohol consumed also…

We walked out with a t-shirt each, a bumper sticker each - “My other car’s a Thirsty Merc” heh - and Matt got a stubbie holder. And we got autographs on Matt’s shirt and the stubbie holder. Whee! The guys were all really nice too, not stuck-up or acting like pricks. And we got an encore!

Off to bed now because I’ve had 4 drinks and I get extra sleepy after drinking. Cheap drunk, apparently.

Flown the coup!

One hour ago, I signed a heap of paperwork, handed over a set of keys, and watched my first car drive away with a stranger at the wheel.

I wasn’t as sad as I thought I’d be about selling it. I’d had it two years, and it had fluctuated wildly between relatively reliable and bonfire material. I was a little sad though, because it was my first car, and I took my driving test in it (and passed, obviously), had my first accident, and a lot of other “happy” memories - like having it break down on the way to work and spending 20 minutes swearing until the air was blue at it until help arrived.

And, amazingly, in those two years, I only drove 8,000km in it. Mainly because Matt hated its guts and refused to get in it most of the time, and because sometimes - okay, most times - it gave me the shits and I didn’t want to be in it any longer than I had to.
(Fond memories of it overheating in a monsoonal downpour are coming back to me here, I’m lucky it was raining or I would have blown it up.)

For the next week or two, I am without a car of my own on the road. It’s amazing, to think of what having those 4 wheels and a fuel tank symbolises. For your childhood and most of your teenage years, you’re so used to being driven around by others, parents, friends etc, and as soon as you get your licence and get into a car of your own, it’s a bit out-there, how liberating it feels. You can go where you want, when you want, without someone else needing to tag along. And when you lose a car, for whatever reason, you just feel… stranded.

I know I’m not stranded - Matt’s driving me to and from work (he started a new job today so I had to give his car back, boo), and I know Mum would be more than willing to drive me anywhere I needed to go, but it’s not the same, you know?

This weekend, the fun begins on my new car. We’re buying 4 new tyres, and some extra paint thinners. Last weekend I bought the paint the car will be sprayed in (metallic purple!!!), primer, sandpaper and the like. And I’m going to be a willing - although probably unwitting - participant in the Kelly-fication of my new car. Sanding it, and heck, I’m probably going to have a go with the spray gun as well! And of course, the whole process will be meticulously documented for everybody’s convenience. Especially mine. Because I want to.

I’m looking forward to having a car that’s newer, very reliable, and undeniably mine. And I’m sure Matt’s looking forward to not having to do all the weekend driving anymore!

(And if anyone ignores a give way sign and hits me in this car, I will not be so placid. I will get out, grab the offending fuckstick - new favourite word, woo! - and rub their face in any dents they’ve caused before demanding money for repairs!)

Why I don’t do domestic.

Being a long weekend this weekend, and having today off, I decided to act a little housewifey (ick) and do some washing, since we had a basket full.

Mum’s washing machine could be operated by a toddler, it’s that easy to use. You plug it in, chuck the clothes in, mix a little liquid detergent with water, pour it in, and hit start. Hey presto. And in 40 minutes, you can go down and peg everything on the line.

Today, I put the washing on, and went upstairs. Matt went downstairs to see Snuggles, so I followed, assuming that the washing was nearly done.

It was. The machine had drained all the water out, and the water and the soap suds were all over the laundry foor. More than that, actually. The poor dog, who was sleeping in his basket, was wet, and his basket and pillow were soaked too!

How did the water end up all over the floor? Matt bathed Snuggles on Saturday morning, and instead of applying logic to the situation and bathing him around the machine hose in the sink, he took the hose out, and wedged it in the gap between the washing mashine and the sink. When I put the washing on, I never even thought to look for the hose, because it is always in the sink.

I nearly took the blame for it, but hey - I wasn’t the one who took the hose out of the sink! If it had been left where it was, there would have been no soapy flood. The poor dog mustn’t have known what hit him!

From now on, whenever someone has a go at me for not being more domestically inclined, today will be used to plead my case. Perhaps I should take up the all-time most hated chore - ironing. Yuck!

Car is sold!

My car sold today. This Irish guy, who’s been stuffing us around, finally said he’ll take it. He gave me a deposit and we’ll get the rest on Tuesday, when Matt gets the safety certificate. And then it’s gone. My first car - gone!

I don’t know whether to be happy it’s sold, because it was starting to cause me grief, or sad because I’m a total sook and seem to get sentimental over everything. It was my first car, after all.

Now the race begins to get New Car on the road before Matt transfers jobs (oh, haven’t said anything about that, have I?) so I can get myself to work.

CAR IS SOLD!!!!