Outrageous Robot Humping

Ok, I apologise, it's been too long.  I don't even really have an excuse, unless laziness counts.  If it does, then BACK OFF!  heh

What's happened in the comedy of errors that is my life since my last post?  I'll divulge chronologically...

I did not die from my grand final injuries (not even my critically injured ego) and recovered almost fully.  I still can't look at the ocean or any kind of water craft without shuddering, but I'm sure that will pass.

So a couple of weeks after the final I had my birthday.  I was looking forward to a relaxing weekend of tattooing, partying and robot shopping, but they do say that the best laid plans always fail, and they pretty much did.  The Thursday before the birthday weekend, my labrador Sunny got sick.  I had to take her to the vet twice in that one night.  the second time the vet gave her a shot of methodone and she couldn't stand up, bloody druggie.  I took her to the vet first thing Friday morning so they could take blood samples.  They kept her on a drip all day and released her to me that night.  We all thought she was better, but then she stayed awake all Friday night, squirming around in pain (poor thing) and moaning. I took her back Saturday morning, they took an x-ray and decided they needed to operate straight away.  They found nothing.  I needed to transfer her to the Animal hospital on Anzac Highway, all doped up and stitchy.  By this time, I'd given up on my tattoo appointment and partying that night, but thanks to the support of my sister Snowy (who was visiting and staying with me) and Mercedes, I ended up still dashing to Victor Harbour and fitting in the outline at least.  Behold, the awesomeness that is my steampunk tattoo by Jai at Victor Tattoo.  They have amazing, beautiful studios there and Jai let me watch the Dudesons the whole time.

From there we rushed to Boho, where my birthday dinner was scheduled to happen.  We got there almost two hours late but they were cool about it.  After we'd been upstairs eating and chilling out for about an hour, Vader and Lady came up and told me that there were people downstairs.  I told her to tell them to come up, presuming she meant three or four people. She told me to go down instead, and to my surprise and elation, there were so many of my friends there!  So, we got to partying.  I never had to buy myself a single drink, which both spoke volumes about the generosity of my friends and also how well they know me and what I want best: alcohol.  Below is some of the evidence of our partying:

Things started to get a little messy:

Then there was the series of 'shocked and affronted' pics:

Then there was some love:

But then there was some humping:

 

Then there was some sneaky ass tapping:

But mostly just good old fashioned partying:

Sunday morning I had to get up and go get Sunny.  She seemed heaps better but they still couldn't tell me what was causing her stomach issues.  I took her home with all her meds and her puckered tummy and hoped for the best.  Sunday Snowy, Michi, Mercedes and Kat took me to the robot shop and I bought four new babies!  Here they are:  

I really did get spoiled on my birthday.  Cede put a chunk of money towards my tattoo, got me lots of robut stuff and basically didn't let me pay for anything all weekend.  Kat had a star named 'Robi's Inspiration' for me, it's in the Crux constellation, right near Acrux, the bottom of the longest leg of the Southern Cross.  Snowy and Michi and Mum got me cool stuff and put money in for my tattoo too - yes indeed I was a star that weekend.

Later that week I woke up to Sunny sick again.  I was spewing.  I just wanted to find out what was going on.  She walked into the kitchen and hurled up a huge grass ball.  It stunk like human vomit and dog shit and I was retching as I picked it up.  I took her straight to the vet again, where we had to wait about half an hour for the vet to arrive.  She walked in the door, talked to us for about a minute and then Sunny threw up again, another MASSIVE grass wad.  The vet was surprised, she said that was the biggest grass ball she'd ever seen. When I told her that it was the second one she'd produced that day, she deduced that perhaps that was the reason for her stomach troubles.  That she thinks she's a cow and eats too much grass.  That she is a giant dumbass who eats shit and grass and costs me two grand when she can't shit it out.  Buuuuut, I wouldn't have done it any other way, she's my baby.

Something else interesting that happened between Sunny and now is that I discovered a fascination with RealDolls.  If you don't know what they are, look here (be aware: IT IS UNSAVOURY).  They're basically life sized dolls (presumably) meant primarily for sexual gratification if you can't get a real person to let you bone them.  I was perusing the website and all the accoutrements that are available to purchasers of a RealDoll (new or second hand) when I came across a RealDoll movie called Regarding Jenny.  Naturally, in a fit of giggles I made Kat look it up and we laughed our asses off at this 'film' featuring an inanimate object as its protagonist.  In that film, there is a scene where Jenny's boyfriend (a slightly jealous control freak and terrible actor to boot) is watching Lars and the real Girl, which I have not seen.  So, we rented it out.  It's a pretty good movie.  it's about a guy who has a delusion and he thinks his RealDoll is an actual person, and in the interest of helping him get through it his whole town also pretends she is real.  The thing about this whole story is jut how much of a pansy I have become.  I freely admit that I cry a lot at movies/tv/commercials/news/serious thoughts/kittens/old people/nice deeds etc but I hit a new low when I cried when the RealDoll (Bianca) died in the end.  I was busily losing myself in the moment, watching the funeral and touching camaraderie when I suddenly realised that I was weeping like a sissy for not only a MADE UP CHARACTER IN A FICTITIOUS TALE, but a 'character' that NEVER EVEN DEPICTED AN ACTUAL REAL PERSON.  I started to laugh, actually laugh and put a note in my iphone to blog about what a moron I am.

Speaking of morons, a few nights ago, I bumped myself up to King Tard status at the servo round the corner from Cede's house.  We had bought coffee each and were just getting into our car when the ladies in the car next to us asked Cede if she could help them find their way to Cross Road in Glen Osmond.  Since I'm always keen to prove that tattooed, pierced freaky hair chicks aren't murderers, I almost leapt the bonnet to whip out my google maps and show her.  We worked through the directions, and Cede took notes of all the turns and stuff for her as I read it out.  The lady said she was going to a rosary.  Since I had no idea what that was, I paid no attention: smart, me.  So, we sorted her out and were parting ways when I said 'Enjoy your evening', looking both women in the eyes in turn, to show that I was sincere, friendly and just generally a good egg.  As I was getting back into my car, I said to Cede 

'That came across as quite forceful, I don't know why I said that so serious and loud...' to which she replied

'Yeah, especially since they were going to a funeral.'

'What?!?'

'Yeah, what do you think a Rosary is?'

'I don't know!  I thought it was just some religious thing where they sit around and count beads!'

She laughed at me for a while and I stewed in my doucheness.

Well, that's about it for now - I have some bouts coming up soon, so I'll report on them and any other instances of my most massive idiotic nature.

ENJOY YOUR EVENING.

Tx

Oh, and I went to a party dressed as Jem.  Outrageous.

Welcome back Kotter... or should I say codger?

It's rare that I will refer to myself as 'old', even more seldom as a 'codger', but I feel like one today.  I'm all creaks and groans and I have dropped things on the floor and left them there because I am just not doing any bending today.  I'm not even talking heavy shit: I blew my nose and missed the bin with the tissue.  Yup, I'm that gross.  And sore.

So, in true Robyn (narcissistic) style, I take this opportunity to welcome myself back to my own blog from the murky depths of my honours thesis panic.  I call it the thesis madness of 2011.  Don't get me wrong, I am happy that I did honours, and I'm not trying to say that it's the hardest thing in the world to do.  Bazillions of people do it and way harder stuff like expel a tiny human from their hooha or climb a freezing mountain and return sans several toes, but for me, in my life, it was hard.  I had to juggle the thesis madness of 2011 with continuing sickness and a break-up also.  I was not in the least surprised that I left it until the last possible minute that I could - after all, I have done that my entire degree.  But, whoa, the relief when I handed that sucker in!  So, that's done and now I can return to the world of writing for pleasure and hopefully one day, pleasure AND money.  Dirty, dirty word money.

Ok, so that done, let's talk about the Grand Final double header.  From my personal point of view, I had a bit of a tough season.  I never got to the fitness level I wanted to, injured my knee over and over and was sick constantly.  I did not play to my potential in our game.  I call it the great non-event of 2011.  From a team point of view, we had a bit of a rough start too.  We managed to get ourselves into the Final, buuuuuuut...

The Salty Dolls (who we played) were undefeated all season, and were on fire.  They came at us like a bull at a gate, and we came at them like a sloth at a tree.  Like usual, I can't remember a lot but I do know that everything we talked about, everything we practiced basically got left behind in the changeroom and we just populated the penalty box with pretty much two blockers per jam instead.  The Dolls never missed a beat, capitalised on every jam and left us at half time trailing 87 to a pathetic 19.  We had a pretty good chat in the changeroom and came out for the second half ready for some action.  If only it mattered who won halves, because we outscored them 61-59 in the second.  Just that pesky 68 point defecit from the first half killed us...  That, and penalties.  Bride of Skatan: ejected.  Violent Krumble: ejected.  I've never been caught behind so many walls in my life. 

So.  Without doubt the better team won on the day, on the track.  The afterparty is another story...

We began at the Ed Castle.  I was sitting with friends and my girlfriend Mercedes.  One of my oldest and best mates Tash was there, and Tash and I have a running joke/game of punching each other in the vajayjay.  Punching each other lightly/playfully, not actually hard blows.  Really mound punching, not, you know, underneath.  So we were all chatting, laughing and generally being jovial and then Mercedes called me over.  I thought she might be going to pinch me on the arm skin so I said 'no, you're going to pinch me', to which she replied that she wouldn't.  I made her promise.  I strode confidently over, thinking I was going to get a cuddle, and walked directly into her fist smashing into my box.  It dropped me to the floor like a sack of shit, in front of everyone.  I didn't cry, but Thor's hammer did it hurt!!  I was in shock that she would do that.  She was in shock that it connected so well.  According to her, she didn't mean to do it that hard.  Tash had told her to do it.  My poor punani was in shock and I briefly considered an ice pack but then decided to just kill it with booze.  I call it the great junk punch of 2011.  The pain gradually subsided and the table talk moved on from speculation over why my own girlfriend would punch me in the mermaid's purse.  Then, a little while later... comeuppance.  I wasn't planning any revenge, because Mercedes clearly felt terrible about it, so this happy accident led me to believe that the universe itself just wanted her to know that punching your girl in the junk is just not on.  I had just gone and fetched drinks for us and she had a brand new pint of cider in front of her.  I got a little animated (as I do) and brought my fist down on the table to emphasise whatever point I was making.  The cro-magnon table punch promptly tipped the cider directly into her lap and she wound up with frozen junk and looking like she wet her pants.  I call it the great cider caper of 2011.

From the Ed we went to LaSing and, well, that's when shit got weird.  Vader and I did our usual duet, this time to Built This City, and we all kept drinking.  The spring rolls flowed like wine and at some point I snagged myself some Pad Thai (I think) and was feeding it to people.  Somehow I had made myself two new friends, a guy with a wicked mohawk and wearing a Road Train Rollers T shirt and also a little gay guy who kept telling me I had a great rack.  I do.  I then let him feel it and he, in return offered that I could cup his business.  Never one to be rude, I had a little feel.  I couldn't discern any bulge to speak of in his baggy jeans, so he undid them and showed us all his undies.  He then explained the advantages of that particular underwear, in that they lifted his belongings up and out, so as to present them better maybe, I don't know.  I then poked him on his junk and left it at that.  We stayed at LaSing until the lights came on and then I got myself three meat patties from Hungry Jack's and went home.

The Grand Final for 2011 did not play out as we had hoped, but we partied hard nonetheless and, as usual, won the afterparty.  Today, I'm covered in bruises, still have a sore jootz and am still giggling about spilling that cider, so it wasn't all a loss.

Hey, p.s. now that I'm finished Uni I need a job.  Anyone got one going?  I will work for any currency but bananas.

Tx

I didn't even smell the wee...

Right.  I officially should not be writing this,  I should be writing my thesis but I am too brain dead to write anything of quality, so blog it is.

This entry will cover last Saturday night until now.  I will begin with my own personal discovery about my Aunty Maude.  Aunty Maude is my Nana's sister.  When we were kids, we used to go to her house - she had one of those delicious backyards, with clumps of trees that held secrets and rusting wheelbarrows, all vine covered and grasshoppery.  I would let my imagination run rampant and climb the trees, sighting imaginary ships approaching a strange coast, or escaping a rabid sloth hell bent on my destruction (not a fast climber, me).  Then, my Dad would spot me and tell me 'get down' and 'get here' and 'get my belt' cos I wasn't allowed to climb trees in Aunty Maude's garden, or any garden for that matter.  Then Aunty Maude got older, and moved to an apartment.  It didn't have a garden, but she gave me food so I was sufficiently placated.  Once, from her window, I saw a workman on a roof opposite singing and thrusting his pelvis to 'Stop in the name of love'.  He even put out his arm with his hand up on the word 'stop'.  Then, Aunty Maude got older and went into a home.  It was there that she also began to show the effects of senility.  She didn't remember me when I came to visit but I understood, didn't take it personally.  I figured it wasn't the roughest end of the stick when Mum told me that on her (I think) one hundredth birthday one of her carers leaned in so that Maude could hear her and said 'happy birthday Maude', to which she received a swift uppercut.  Hahah legend - 'Happy birthday?  HAPPY BIRTHDAY?!?  DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO YOU SMARMY BITCH!!'  Well, she didn't say that, but in my mind that's how it panned out.

Anyway, so last I talked about Aunty Maude to my Mum, it was when she turned one hundred and seven.  Last Saturday night I was hanging out at my Sister Michi's place cos it was her Hubby's birthday.  The convo got onto old people I think, and I piped up with 'well, OUR Aunty is HEAPS old!  By now she must be almost one hundred and TEN!!'  Michi just looked at me and then said 'Rob, Aunty Maude is dead.'  hahah I was like 'WHUT?!?' and she followed with 'umm, yeah... she died about a year ago...'  A YEAR?!? Why did nobody tell me this?!?  I have been boasting of my wildly violent incredibly ancient relative and all this time she's been DEAD?!?  No bastard tells me anything.

Moving on.  Sunday was our last bout in the regulation season.  It was against the Wild Hearses.  I've talked about them before - last year.  We got beat by them once, and then beat them, in the grand final.  They are a great team - well, actually all games this year have been really close so far - but this one was overshadowed by the fact that the victor progressed into the grand final on July 17.  No pressure or anything.  So last week I had started getting sick.  I thought I was beating it, but then I worked Weds night and Thurs morn I awoke feeling death.  I could not get out of bed.  So, I have these two amazing friends.  One of them brought me cough syrup, and the other one gave me a gypsy remedy from her family.  Both tasted like complete ass, but I took em.  So, by the time Sunday rolled around, I was feeling heaps better than I thought I would, but still all snot and hacking.

The bout got started and was hairy from the get-go.  It was the most physical bout I've ever played I reckon, blocks flying all over the shop and I hit the deck a few times.  I already had a sore hip from breakdancing in our changeroom earlier.  Points crept onto the board for both teams, and by half time it was 34-44, Hearses way.  We had a really motivational talk and some fruit and went back out to raise hell.  Every time I jammed I had to sit down after.  I don't like to sit, but I was scared I was going to faint.  I was so knackered.  Somewhere in there I had a grand slam, I think.  I can never remember much.  My last jam I may have got seven points, I can remember Skatan waving seven fingers in my face as I fought off pulminary failure.  Then, it was the last jam.  I had no idea of the score - I rarely look, as I think it should bear no relevance on playing hard and smart.  So, I was just sitting in my chair with my head in my hands, I couldn't bear to look.  Once again, my goal was to skate my heart out and leave it all on the track, and I knew I did that.  The crowd was deafening - I didn't think it could get any louder, but suddenly there was an uproar.  I held my breath - someone had broken through.  Then they played the Hearses music and I couldn't help but look and there was Bessy, out in front (bad for us), but lo, there was Mims right on her tail (good for us)!  My hands covering my mouth, I still sat there as the seconds dwindled, and then the final whistle sounded.  I looked at my team.  Everyone froze.  They then erupted in smiles and cheers, and I knew we'd won.  I jumped up and grabbed Karmen, turned her to face me and said 'did we win?  Did we really win?' and she confirmed it - we were in the grand final.  I literally had a hard time believeing it for hours after.  Here is that exact moment:

Highlights from the bout for me in no particular order are:

• My team clicking together and working as a well oiled machine, or robot if you will,
• The joyous packs provided by my teammates when I was jamming,
• starting to feel more useful as a blocker,
• Our Optimus Prime skate out,
• The Hearses wicked hooded figure skate out,
• breaking my wrist guard after a particularly gnarly Hearsie block,
• going out for a jam and thinking 'gee, my teeth feel really free' and realising I wasn't wearing my mouthguard,
• almost being blocked into the crowd, narrowly missing them, laughing at them recoiling in horror and wagging my finger, saying 'ahaaaaaah',
• Going nuts (seemingly a trend emerging) and yelling like a maniac as I cleared the pack 'EAT THAT!!  JUST EAT IT!!', while pointing to the sky (photo below),
• and doing a mohawk in a crazy sequence where I had to perform some kind of interpretive dance to exit the pack, see below for evidence of that also.

The Hearses played amazingly, with no mercy, and I think it's safe to say that every single skater was shagged and deserving of a beer at the end.

Naturally, we went out after and did a spot of drinking and a spot of dancing.  By well into the night, this is what the dancing looked like:

and:

Aaaaand... we wont the afterparty again.  From there we went to Maccas and I got a quarter pounder with the meat as the bun.  Behold:

And yes, it was heavenly.

Just two more quick things before I go.  Today, as I drove to Uni to meet with my *amazing* supervisor, I noticed that my neck was sore.  Strange cos it wasn't sore in the days following the bout.  Changing lanes became tedious so I had the most docile drive in about ten years.  I had my meeting, returned to my car and thought 'hm.  Sick of this snot.'  So I blew my nose and BAM!  It was instantly clear how I had hurt my neck: powerful, thunderous nose blowing.  And, I'm not the first one in my family to have this injury.  Seems I am predisposed.

And the other thing - earlier today I went to the toilet.  I went for both numbers one and two.  I finished the toilet paper.  I replaced the roll and noticed it was damp.  I looked down at the floor, where the toilet paper lives and thought 'hm... meh', put the roll on, used it - again, numbers one AND two, and thought nothing more of it.  After I returned home from Uni, Kat said 'oh, by the way, I don't know how you didn't smell it (usually my olfactory prowess is KING, but I'm sick), but one of the cats pissed on the toilet paper rolls at some stage.'

o_O

WHAT?

yup, so all day I have been doing my business with cat business.  Needless to say, I mopped the bathroom and got in a shower so hot that steam obscured my feet.

Well, until next time (probably in three weeks, after which I should have handed in my thesis),

Tx