Sunday, December 26, 2010


So another Christmas has been and gone. As mentioned earlier, it was my first as an atheist, and I found myself sort of adrift (in thought) more than once.
Before the day even started, I was a little irate, because I hate those group texts that people send out. They annoy the piss out of me. It doesn't show you care! It shows that you are friggin lazy and want it to appear that you care cos you send everyone in your phone a generic text. If you actually want to wish someone a merry Christmas, take the time to send them a personal one. I do this – I put their name in it and some information that shows that it is meant for them and only them, so that they know I REALLY DO WISH THEM A MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS. Don't send me a group text if we haven't even spoken for over a year or since the last time u sent out a generic text with a stupid bullshit poem about New Year's. I got a text Christmas morning from a friend interstate. It went something like this:

Her: Have a merry Christmas and don't forget the reason for the season!

Me: aren't you a Mormon?

Her: yeah lol

Me: how odd that a Mormon sends a merry Christmas message to an atheist lesbian.

Another mate sent this:

Him: have a merry Christmas, get drunk but be safe!

Me: Don't tell me what to do. YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME

After I recovered from my rage, we got to business. The day was planned out in advance – we went to Kat's family for brunch and mine for a late lunch. It was the first time I had met Kat's Uncle, Aunty and their two kids (how very nuclear), with whom I got along famously from the start because I feigned interest in their game boys and zuzu pets. Ok, the interest in the game boy was only partly feigned. The zuzu pet I wanted to euthanize. Fortunately that only involves removal of batteries, but I couldn't get a moment alone.
Something interesting happened when I met Kat's uncle. I shook his hand, which is customary, to show him that I was not holding any weapons that I might utilise to disembowel him. As it is, I'd much prefer to stand with both hands in my pockets, deliver a curt nod and a 'pleased to meet ya', but I was puttin' on the ritz for Kat's sake, so I shook his hand. That's when shit got weird. As he was gripping my hand, he pulled me in for a kiss on the cheek. Very rarely do my lips come in contact with any part of a man, and I certainly wasn't about to sully my day from the get-go by breaking this personal rule. So, although I was already approaching his head, I made sure my face was well away from his. This isn't anything new – I've had to put up with this before, and the other person just kisses my cheek and then I wipe it off when nobody's looking. The weird thing about this time, was that he didn't kiss me either. We just bumped the side of our heads together and released. I felt like a young and handsome Captain James Kirk observing alien protocol and custom on a new landing site. Who does this??!! Not only do I hate being forced to open my personal space bubble for a complete stranger AT ALL, EVER, now I can add confusion to the list too! I suspect he was feeling just as awkward and I hope he learns his lesson from that 'embrace'. IT'S 2010. ALMOST 2011. IT'S OFFICIAL. NOBODY HAS TO KISS ANYONE ANYMORE UPON MEETING THEM. IT'S STUPID, OUTDATED AND INAPPROPRIATE. There. Now that I've sorted that out I hope I shall never go through it again. Other than that little mishap, the morning was quite pleasant, with oysters and lobster!!
We moved on from that to Michi's place. She and her hubby the J-man have just bought a house and it is cute as hell. They've done heaps of work on it already and it looks amazing. So, we arrived just after 1pm and were greeted by their dog Ruby, who is so much better behaved that Rosie that it is like a dog-holiday. They also have a turtle, a chicken and a galah. The chicken is my fave (besides Ruby) and is called Gwen. If you crouch down near her, she will jump up on your knee for a pat. She doesn't appreciate being picked up though, and waits patiently until you put her down before she flies into a wild pecking rage aimed at your feet and ankles. So, after greeting everyone we sat down to presents. Like I said earlier, Kat and I agreed to only get each other stuff worth $30. She broke it. I didn't, so I felt like a bastard, thanks again, Christmas. Nonetheless, she seemed pleased with what I bought her – a little calendar with animals cuddling on it (sounds super lame-o, I know, but she loves that shit) and a book of 2 books – Alice in Wonderland and Alice through the looking-glass. She got me sunnies that I picked out, a hot pink chromed dog money box (I reeeeeally like shiny things) and a robot clock! I was surprised about the clock, but very excited, cos I really love robots too, and his eyes flash when the alarm goes off. I've put it on the tallboy, so that when the alarm goes off, I will have to get up to turn it off, and that way I can appreciate the flashing eyes.
So, we had a nice meal there, shot the shit and eventually had to mosey on home. Once there, we did a quick cleanup, cos we were expecting Caddy and her GF Slams around for a few drinks. They arrived bearing gifts. A few days earlier I had received this text from Caddy:

- Now, I know no one is doing Xmas presents but I accidentally bought you and Kitty something little but I want to clarify it's because I love you two, not because it's Christmas. K? Good. :) xx P.S. this does not obligate you to return the favour, in fact, please really don't. I've already overloaded on sugar and I don't need any more 'stuff and things' :D

How the hell I was blessed with such awesome mates even though I'm a bit of an asshole I'll never know, but that aside, I showed Kat the text and I said

'Well – she said not to get her anything, and I have no money anyway, so I guess we're stuck with this one.' Kat replies:

'Nup. Fuck that. I'm getting her something.'
And she did. She got her a cute retro apron and somethin else I can't remember. Caddy's gift was Haighs chocolates! We ate the WHOLE BAG on boxing day, watching 4 dvds in a row.
So, the evening was nice, and I drank a 6-pack of JD and cola. I thought that I wasn't drunk, but the next morning I found these texts that I had sent Caddy:

Me: I love u guys UR MU FAVRUT BAST FRNDS hey guess what were having MAC N CHEESE GLUTEN FREE Kat's making it I was like 'I'd prefer if u make it n I eat it' and then:

Me: THANK U 4 the choices in the candle holder! I wish I knew cos I was usi g candles (I 3> candles)

Now, that last bit is actually a mutual joke – the website when parents text that I've been laughing my ass off at for about a week – a Mum tries to write a heart like <3 but writes it like 3> and then asks how to turn the 3 around. That then put me onto the site and I sent some to Caddy after that. I think that when I wrote 'choices' I meant chocs.
So – all in all I'd say that I had a pretty good Christmas, and even though I don't believe in it – I did experience a sort of miracle – I didn't get a hangover. Thanks, baby cheeses.
Well, that's it for now!
In closing, here is a pic of my nephew on his new bike!

Peace to all!


Saturday, December 18, 2010

Take two – tales of the fart kind

Ok, so upon a second reading of my last post I decided it was boring. So, since I'm stuck inside on account of my allergies being recalcitrant turds, I thought I might try again with something slightly less self-centred.

So, without further ado, here is the tale of the time I farted at my sister Michi.

When we were young, our Dad used to fart a lot. Actually, he farted a lot regardless of our ages. He would do things like fart as he was walking – tilted up on one leg to facilitate easy release of said fart. Or tip onto one cheek whilst sitting. Or say 'ooh, can anyone smell hot chips?' and laugh when we took in a big voluntary whiff. Needless to say, I was not fond of this habit and I used to complain that it was unfair that we had to smell the air from his bowel (yes, I actually said that).

So, whenever I had to fart (rare, in those days, not so rare now) I would hide it from my Dad, lest he get on a high horse and proclaim that it was ok for him to do it, cos I did it too.

Pause there – skip to the other side of the story. When Michi was a kid, she often used to crack it with a family member, or several. Her way of letting us know that she was mad was to sit in the lounge room in the dark, fuming. What she didn't know was that none of us gave a shit. She'd just sit in there and stew, until she got bored or Mum called her to do something.

Back on track. One night I was descending the stairs when I realised I had a monster brewing. I reached the bottom step, walked down the hall, passed the lounge room and saw Dad in the kitchen. I realised I had to hide my impending fart. I still don't know why I did it this way, but I stopped and backed in to the lounge room. I bent over, propped myself up with my hands on my thighs, took a deep breath and ledderrip. No joke, I even went 'aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh' as I did it.

...You know sometimes when someone's staring at your back and you didn't know they were there but you can, like, feel their stare? Yeah well that happened to me at that moment. Still bent at the waist, I turned my head and there was Michi, directly behind me, sitting on the couch, arms folded, seething with anger, shaking slightly.

She dobbed, but Dad was too busy cracking up to care. Even after years had passed, he would giggle at the thought of Michi, sitting there, thinking that I was purposely farting at her to rub it in her face that nobody cared about her little spat.

Ok, so also a quick Zine update: We're done! Look out for it in the Zine shop (Format) – 15 Peel St Adelaide, it's called Hair Pie DIY, the first episode is free so check it out! We're really wanting feedback!

Last night we were talking about how we're taking a censored version to Egypt and were talking about what we would censor and Kat said 'just write about hummus and Pyramids and shit'. This is why I love her, always with the solutions.



Thursday, December 16, 2010

Heroes in a half shell...

Right. Down to business. Christmas business. Today I finished my Christmas shopping. I cheated a tiny bit, cos I didn't have that much to do anyway, and we had a family Christmas in November. But nonetheless I have, as of today, finished. I bought the last present at West Lakes, which is where I saw a man whip out a genuine hair comb and run it through what I can only describe as a very bushy rat's tail crossed with a mullet. It kind of looked like a squirrel's tail actually. A westie with hair grooming in mind... So in mind that he carries a comb with him...
Anyway, so Christmas has become very confusing for me. I have become an atheist. I have my reasons. Now, let's get one thing straight – I HATE arguing about religion. I HATE being preached to about religion. Those points together mean that I will never try to push my lack of religion onto others, or argue about the choice I have made. It's just the way it is now. I also don't begrudge anyone having faith in anything (although I do believe that having faith shouldn't cost money or mean killing yourself or anyone else) in fact it's nice to believe in something. Just because I don't believe in a/any god/s doesn't mean I don't believe in stuff. I believe in lots of stuff: aliens, ghosts, love, Oprah and the power of positivity. Oh – and curses. I'm not messing with that shit.
Believe it or not, being an atheist isn't just about saying 'I don't believe in god anymore'. For me, it's harder than that. There were things I used to do, even though I never told anyone. I used to pray sometimes. I would pray for someone I knew that was sick or in trouble, or if I drove past a cross by the side of the road surrounded in flowers. I would even throw out a Happy Birthday message to ol' JC each Dec 25th. Being an atheist means I can't do that anymore, it's all or nothing, that's how it works. It's been hard to get rid of those old habits. Now I just send out some mega positive vibes to people that need it and just resort to plain old hope I guess.
So what do I do about Christmas? It's all about the birth of a dude I don't believe existed, but everyone around me celebrates – my friends, my family. I gotta admit – I don't wanna say goodbye to Christmas. I know that sounds pretty petulant – like I said, it's all or nothing, right? So I've been thinking lots about it. I don't wanna be the only scrooge in my personal network. So, my solution is that I'll just treat it like a family day. Christmas is now my official day to make an effort to be with my family and eat shitloads of food. It makes people happy and if they're happy then so am I. I also think it has a lot to do with my Dad. He LOVED Christmas and every year tried to make it awesome. He would be disappointed enough that I'm an atheist, but it would kill him (if he were alive) if I stopped celebrating Christmas.
That brings me to my next point – kids. I am already looking forward to next year when I can holiday with Snowy and my nephew, cos that's the first year he will be able to really understand Christmas and Santa and stuff. So... what about when I have a kid? I already know that I would never deprive a child of that joy. So, I guess Christmas has its talons in me pretty deep and all I can do is get drunk and roll with it.
Onto other news related to Christmas – wastage of money. Ho-ly BALLS do I waste some money! The other night I was leaving work and parked beside my car was the car I had sold to a mate of mine. It was my first car. It was a Daewoo. First mistake right there. When heaps and heaps of people say that something is shit, it probably is. Nonetheless I bought it. The saddest part (actually who am I kidding, there are too many 'saddest parts' to count) is that these days, I'm seeing ads for brand new little cars – good brands like Holden and Ford for like $14000. I bought my daweoo for $20000. Talk about all-time bonehead moves. It was in shitty condition by the time I sold it – a list of things as big as my arm needing fixing, some drunken douche had keyed it and it was filled with dog hair. So, I cut a deal with the kid I sold it to. 'You can have it in the condition it is in now for $500'. That's a $19500 loss. I'm a savvy businesswoman, for sure. Would you believe he complains about the dog hair? The reason I noticed it the other night is cos he has fixed a BMW badge to it, on the boot where the old Daewoo symbol used to be. I guess when you buy a car for $500, you can stick shit all over it and who cares, it was only $500. He should stick sea shells on it like in that episode of the Simpsons. Pondering this epic loss led me to remember when I went to Canada the first time to play inline hockey for Australia. The first thing I did was go to a skate shop and buy a new pair cos I didn't like mine. $500 bucks later I had a pair of Mission D2s. I played decently in the tournament – I liked them, but in the end I wore them about 10-12 times and never again. I later sold them for $200. I should just never have money. Perhaps I will move and live on the land, growing what I eat. I'll have to make a TV though, and I don't think I'm that smart.
In slightly more awesome news – our zine is almost ready to hit the streets! I'm super pumped! The editorial committee (that's the only committee) is meeting tomorrow to put it together! We even have some colour pages! There are 40 pages in it! Some of the articles include a terribly accurate poem on leggins, a movie review, a very informative account of the reindeer and even an erotic tale. The cover is TACTILE. So, if you would like a copy – email us at and we will arrange one for you! I'm bringing some copies overseas! We're going WORLDWIDE BABYYYYY!!!
So I'm not going to write much about our holiday yet, otherwise I won't shut up about it, but I will share a couple of funny things that I'm looking forward to.
-Kat thinks that we can get nacho hats at Madison Square Garden. I scoffed but secretly hope we can. Failing that, just nachos.
-Madison Square garden.
-Sydney Crosby at Madison Square Garden.
-My friends in London, Ontario, I miss them so much!! The person I can't wait to see the most is my mate (let's call her) Wik. She is the coolest Canadian ever and I reckon in the top 5 Mums on the planet. She reminded me today of the Christmas I spent there with her once – we stayed up until 5am wrapping presents so we wound all the clocks back 3 hours so that the kids would think it was earlier and we could get more sleep! Man were they pissed when they found out! In hindsight, it was really mean but it's still funny. Her kids are older now so I don't think they would fall for it again.
-Paris again. This time I can speak a bit. Last time I read a phrase book on the Eurostar and then Snowy got carried away with my abilities and asked me to ask a salesperson about kinds of cheese and if she could toast something. Also I'm going to go nuts on perfume. Yes, I wear perfume. I'm one of those pretentious motherf***ers who only wears expensive shit too. Cheap crappola gives me a headache.
-Egypt. I might have to sell Kat but whatever gets us inside Tutankhamen's tomb...
Alright, that's probably enough. Last thing I want to share is something that happened the other day on Facebook. My mate tagged me in this pic. When I saw it, it was midnight, I had just finished work, I was waaay overtired and I actually cracked up at it. Well, I cracked up at the pic and the first comment:

Facebook user: 'that is so funny I love the turtles'

That just set me off, and I honestly don't know if it's funny to anyone else or just me in that state of mind – but what else is there in that pic to love?! The sand? The foam? Then my mate who was tagged as Raphael commented:

'Hey where's my other sai? WHAT IS THIS???'

And I snorted again, I could imagine her rage. Shortly after this, a mate in America used the pic for herself and tagged me in the post. Some douche wrote this:

Facebook user: 'I hate to be that guy, but yeah... the Ninja Turtles aren't sea turtles. They would most likely be some type of fresh water turtle. Thanks.'

*blank 'I'm looking at you this way cos you're a fucktard' face* THEY'RE ANTHROPOMORPHIC, ASSHOLE!!! IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER WHAT THEY WERE!! THIS PIC IS FUNNY AND YOU ARE RUINING IT!! Incidentally, they were red eared sliders, but I'm not telling him that. Pompous git.

Then, today at the same mall where I saw the squirrel-tail-hair combing I found this on the ground:

Omen. Boom.

Alright, that's really it this time, thanks for your patience and merry christmas to all!
P.S. Just kidding – I don't believe in Oprah ;)

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Sucking chest wounds ahoy!

So last week I had to do a first aid course. It's a necessity for my employment as a duty manager at the ice arena. As luck would have it, I managed to snag a position on a course that was held about 1.5 mins drive from where I live. And yes, I did drive. It was a two-day course. I got there about 4 mins early on day one.

The room was set up as you'd expect – chairs in a semi-circle, a PowerPoint slide presentation ready to go and a bunch of resuscitation mannequins, open mouthed and waiting to be kissed. They remind me of people who have to get around town on skateboards cos they have no legs and you always wonder if that hurts their bits, if they have bits.

Firstly – what's with people spelling mannequins 'manikins'? I don't understand how people can just decide to start doing that – 'hey, the word mannequin spelled the French way is just too hard to get my brain around, I think I'm just gunna invent a phonetic solution. M.A.N.I.K.I.N. Yeah, that's much easier.' The English word for mannequin is DUMMY, DUMMY! Whilst on a language rant, I saw a place yesterday that spelled 'cafe' 'caffe', like they couldn't chose between the French and English word for coffee to advertise their cafe. That whole situation is an imposible cycle; we call coffee coffee and go buy a sandwich from a cafe, which is almost the word cafĂ©, which means coffee anyway! Call it a deli. Safer. Incidentally, I believe that 'deli' is short for 'delicatessen', which means 'delicate eating' in German, so theoretically, no deli should serve anything that isn't considered 'delicate', like I think a full breakfast is pushing it a bit.

Back on topic. So as I walked in the door of the venue, I noticed a table with three things on it – a bunch of first aid manuals, a pad of participant forms and a sheet of stickers which I presumed was for name tags. I took a book, form and sticker and sat down. People kept coming in and sitting down without glancing at the table so the facilitator had to tell them to go back to get the stuff. No biggie. Then a guy came in who returned to his seat wearing the tiniest sticker known to man. He had peeled off a little thin one that borders the paper. The facilitator – let's call him 'Perkins' had to read it from about 3cm away from the guy's chest! The name tag read 'Arch'. Perkins looked at his course list and said

'aaaand Arch would be short for..?'

Arch replied 'Andreas'. Naturally.

Perkins says 'Oh...' and Arch laughs and says

'I always get people with that one!'

Um. I'm pretty sure if I attended courses with a name tag other than my actual name on the list I'd 'get' people with it too. I carefully watched Arch in case he proved to be a tool, but it turned out he was actually pretty lovable and funny.

After that, as is usually the way with these courses, we had to introduce ourselves to the class and say what we do. Now, I swear, I'm not a racist person, but there was a guy there and I just could not understand what he said. I honest to got thought he said he worked in a kissing booth. I said

'Wow. I didn't know they had those anymore.' He looked at me weird. So did everyone else. I said 'you said kissing booth, right?'

He replied 'Fishing boat.'

Off to a great start. The course was actually the best one I've done, but they do not need two days, at all. The amount of chatting and the general slow pace was a bit ridiculous. Perkins was super cheesy and corny, but he did lighten the mood and make the course fun. He had songs cued to go when pertinent – like when talking about body fluid contamination – 'Can't touch this' came on. Hm.

After the course finished, we had a Road Train Rollers dinner at the Deli in Thebarton. If you have never been, slap yourself and then go. It's awesome. They make wicked sangria and their gluten free pizza is amazing!

Saturday afternoon some mates came around and we had a meeting about a zine we're gunna do. If you're interested in this zine, comment here sometime and I'll organise you a copy. The first issue is free. I will say no more.

After the zine brainstorm we noticed that 'Celebrity singing bee' was on the telly. If you've never seen it, you are truly blessed. Firstly, why do they label things 'celebrity' when the viewers watch and go 'who are these people? I've never seen them before in my life!' Secondly, stop scraping the bottom o the barrel for ideas and just run old episodes of The Brady Bunch or something. Seriously, nothing can be worse than 'Celebrity Singing Bee'. Also, the dancers they have? Ghastly. They're in mini dresses – black with yellow stripes, all in sequins. The dancing is horrible! I think they're trying to be gogo style or something, but it's like they're trying to be waaaay too hard-hitting. Like they're trying to combine backup dancing with hip-hop and crump. It insulted my eyes and I wanted to cry. Then I changed channels and Anne of Green Gables was on for like the first time in TWENTY YEARS and I was placated. Nay, more than placated, I was thoroughly chuffed.

Sunday we had a team skate. It was hot and I was not nearly hydrated enough. Right near where we skated there was a car racing track. Grown adults racing toy cars. I scoffed at this until I realised we are a bunch of grown adults on roller skates. Those lil cars – when they crash it's actually really cool! They flip like realsies! Also, they go very fast, which was sweet to watch.

Towards the end of the training session I sat in chewy. My favourite. Right next to the track there was a soccer tournament. Everyone there was black, except for the two cops watching. Three little kids from there came to watch us and started racing us, it was heaps cute.

Well, that's about it, sorry that wasn't more exciting. I'd like to finish with something I found on facebook last night when I got up to pee and had a mad headache. Whilst waiting for the painkillers to kick in, I trawled status updates and here is what I found:

Facebook user: 'Okay fine, I won't steal all the cashews out of a bag, I'll pour them into a bowel and steal them from there :3'

My reply: 'bahahahahahahah! I'm sorry, but the thought of u eating nuts from someone's bowel is just too much!!! I think you meant 'bowl'... did they taste like shit?'

Stay tuned for details of the zine!!

P.S. I 4got 2 mention that I helped out with the ADRD fresh meat testing last Monday. It was amazing. The calibre of the group was so high. Please, If you're reading this and you're one of the girls who didn't make it – don't lose hope! You ARE amazing! It's just unfortunate that there were so few spots, but that's the nature of the beast. It will only mean more derby leagues, so more derby for more people:)



P.P.S As I entered the building at work last week, a co-worker who is in her fifties commented on my hair. I was wearing a bandana 'Rosie the Riveter' style, with a little pink bow clip in my fringe. She said 'Oh! Your hair looks so pretty!'

'Thanks! know it's a mohawk, right?'

'Yeah, but the way you wear it, so pretty!'

So there you go. mohawks CAN be pretty.