Update on cockmuncher {nothing to do with actual cock, gross}.

I'm drinking my water from a glass stein with the Hooters logo on it. I have two of them. They were a gift to my Dad but when he died I got them back. That isn't meant to make you sad, just sayin'. I went to every Hooters I could when I was in Canada and that country that joins it underneath, what's it called again?

Jokes... *blank face*

Anyway, outside the hollywood one there was a giant Hooters owl. I presumed it was filled with air and just positioned there until close of business, at which time it would be deflated and stowed for the next working day. I thought I was super cool and daring when I hugged it and gave it a lil bum squeeze. When it hugged me back and I squealed like I was in Deliverance, I realised there was a dude in there. Good one Hooters, you got me. I soothed my grated nerves by going inside, drinking beer, eating wings and looking at big boobs in tight singlets.

Anyway, to the cockmuncher situation. So, our neighbour who shares a wall with us and knows the owner of our place was finally able to get a hold of him and found out that even though the real estate sent us a letter saying that they had been in contact with him about the dogs, THEY IN FACT HAD NOT and he doesn't really mind if they're there! Score one for us, and score a big fat (Kirsty Alley fat) ZILCH for that condescending little banty rooster. Now we just have to go see them and do the righty and get me and the dogs on the lease.

Quick pause for a pic of me with a giraffe I found in K-Mart the other week. It was on the stand of a lingerie mannequin and looked like it didn't belong so I went to the toy section for a look. Sure enough, nothing there that looked like it. So, when I went to the register, this exchange took place:

'Welcome to K-Mart, how are you today?'

'Great thanks, hey listen I found this and I don't think you sell it, I checked...'

'Oh yeah, it was on the stand over there?'

'Yeah.'

'No, we don't, I think some kid might have dropped it.'

'...can I have it please?'

'Sure.'

So that was that and now this lil guy lives with me.

To another issue- I finished reading The Poseidon Adventure yesterday and I have to say that I had some thoughts about it. The first one is that it was so much better than the movie! Now, ob-vi-ou-sly that is just the way with any book-to-movie, but what I mean is that they changed soooo much. It was so dark and sombre and scary, so much better than that disney shit they made in 'hollywood', if that's even it's real name. I want a do-over.

Moving on. Like I needed another reason to be on my iphone constantly, last night for the first time I used the notes app. I never did before. Usually I have a cool leather book with me that my Sister gave me (not Mitchi, one of the others, let's call her Snowy, short for Snow White) and I use that to put notes or thoughts in that I might write about later. Anyway, I didn't have it so I used the notes app. I prefixed it with the old 'sorry, don't wanna be rude, I'm not texting, just taking some notes from time to time', but it really didn't make me any less rude. Still I did it. Now, several times I've wished that some nerd would just hurry up and invent a device for recording thoughts, like a dictaphone in your head that as you have a thought, you can say 'record that for later, please' and it will. Like yesterday when I was home alone, I said something really funny to my dog, and I thought to myself 'that was really funny Robyn. You're witty and cute.' But then I forgot it, I forgot the funny thing, and I can't get by on just being cute, cos I'm really not even very cute, I was just pepping myself up! So, yeah, nerds, get off your asses, tear youselves away from the atari or whatever it is that you do and invent my inner dictaphone!

Now, I'm not going to write about the things I recorded in notes last night, cos this post is long already. What I am going to do is point out one last weird thing: I find it so odd how different chicks get rid of leg hair. There's so many combos. I shave from my ankle (obvs) although I do shave my toes sometimes, ick to toe hair, go up to my knee, shave that and then go about 15 to 20cm above the knee. That's my formula. I never wear short shorts without leggins anyway, so that's easily high enough. I don't wear bathers either. But I can remember a chick in high school who only shaved to her knee. I was embarrased for her, cos right above her knee was mega hairy all the way up! It was hair bike pants! She clearly thought it was ok, cos the bottom part was smooth. Weird. I also had a friend whose Mum wouldn't let her wax or shave so the tried to use band-aids to rip the hair out. Unfortunate.

Anyway, that's all for now, got my first Lacrosse game today so I need to shave my legs, don't want my ankle tape to hurt any more than it has to. Come to think of it, she could've waxed that way...

Au revoir!

Tx

P.S. here is a pic of a buddah with a moose on top.

Everyone likes a quickie, don't they?

Ok, just a quick little post as I only have half an hour and I type slooooow.

I just realised the other day as I was having a flashback from my youth that we (my family) used to have certain little songs that we sung together. I loved them and found myself randomly singing one. As the words bounced from my lips along with some rice cracker crumbs, I listened to them for the first time and realised it just might be a little racist. It's about a chinaman who can't walk. Here are some of the words:

There lived in China a very old man whose name was Chicaraca ching chong chan (typical chinese name, wtf?),

his legs were long and his feet were small,

this lil fella couldn't walk at all.

and here's the chorus, very inventive...

chicaraca ching chong cha chicaroni, ala fala fat man, o co coni, itchy itchy caterpillar, ickabye ickabye o co coniiiiii...

Now, is it just me, or is this song a bit racist? Is it also quite stupid? yes. Where the hell do caterpillars come into it? At least it speaks the truth there, they are pretty itchy.

Thinking on this issue led me to recall many racist things that were 'ok' cos we 'didn't really mean anything by it' or the song or verse was 'so old that when it was written everyone was racist, and it was not as bad as it is now' Not as bad? My Nana (rest her beautiful soul) still called black people 'darkies' til she died! Now, old habits do die hard and she honestly was not racist, she treated everyone with respect, but she had that habit, which was still a bit weird (although kinda funny).

So... the point of this rant is not actually racism. It's going towards religion (wait, don't click me closed yet) in the fact that it's similar to these family habits we have. I grew up as a 'Christian', officially C of E cos my Mum was. Recently, I've been taking a good hard look at religion, reading stuff, watching docos. I have come to the realisation that I beleived it all cos I was basically steered that way and now that I think of it, I don't like it. I'm not here to preach. I hate it when people push 'god' onto me, so in my opinion, it makes me just as bad as them if I push 'not god' to to others, so that's all I'm going to say about it. If you're in the same headspace as me and wanna give your brain a treat, push it outside its boundaries and get a hold of 'Religulous'. It's an awesome doco and heaps funny too.

It might change the way you think, it did me. The only bad thing is that it's carried over to songs I like and now I don't think I can really sing that in public anymore. Oh well. Chicaraca ching chong can be reserved for special shower performances only, that's where I do my best work anyway.

Out,

Tx

Food, hair and poo...

K, I'm over the cockmuncher incident.

I figure there's nothing we can do right now til our next door neighbour gets in contact with the owner. In the meantime I plan to make as much noise and make his life as miserable as I can. petty? Yes. Enjoyable? Even more so. Deserved? You tell me, I reckon so, if nothin else just because he wears a sweater around his shoulders.

That aside, I want to write a lil bit about food/eating/losing weight. Reading my mate Caddy's blog (in my list, the hungry hungry...) really got me thinking. She talks about emotional attachment to food. I'd never thought about this before and after reading her post I realised that I totally do that! Food was a habit for me, especially when studying. Red Bull, lollies, Red Bull, chips, more Red Bull. If I was studying, I had to have something to nibble on. Last year, I didn't play ice hockey during the season, and I got a bit fat. I reckon I almost tipped the scales at 80kg. I'm only 169cm tall, so that's not good although my boobs did get massive, which pleased Kat to no end.

Anyway, all my shirts got tight and you could see a lil donut around where my belly button is. Over my New Year's holiday in Noosa, I got fed up. I decided to eat all I wanted and that I would lose it when I got home. Blah blah heard it all before but this time: I did it. I got home and hit the google machine. Read something called 'fat burning furnace' which made me consider calories, read a book my Mum lent me about the blood group diet and also gave up wheat. So, to break it down, I started to eat way less calories, which basically meant to stop consuming so much yummy yummy sugar. I also cut out wheat, which isn't really that good for us anyway. I started to follow the diet for b+ type too, it's my blood type and also my motto. ha ha. Oh yeah, one more thing: portion size, I was eating way too much, I started to find that I could be satisfied on a little plate of salad, a boiled egg and some salmon, I didn't need a whole dinner plate of chicken satay and rice.

Why am I telling you all this? Cos it friggin worked. I have lost almost ten kilos. So many chicks everywhere wanna lose a bit and I mean it, this works, even if you don't follow the blood group diet, that's just something I did. So, I'm passing it on. In point form:

- Portion size

- Calorie control

- wheat free

- lots of water.

Serious, you wanna drop a bit, cut out the wheat, but you have to look at labels, cos it's everywhere. The good thing? You can still eat fresh fruit and veggies, CHOCOLATE (just a little bit each day if you're a wild choc freak, and dark is better), certain alcohol, seafood and meat, all the good stuff. BUT.......... the clincher is, you have to be strong, no cheating! Just commit to it for two weeks and see how you feel! I felt so much more energetic and also happy with myself to boot. Caddy's diet is really really hard. She's so strong to have stuck to it, and she looks a million bucks and can skate really fast and for a long time. She's rock solid proof that if you're strong, you can do it. I'm less solid proof cos I haven't lost as much and I did spend the last 2 weeks being naughty but I'm back on track now. Anyway, the point: I can fit into jeans that I couldn't at the start of the year and I can buy size 12 jeans now instead of 14.

Interesting point: my boobs never got smaller. I just had to buy new bras and now I'm a dd. Weird. Kat is still happy. I am less happy cos they bounce when I run. At least I don't have a penis flopping wildly . Happy with the boobs.

Half-time break with a pic of me dressed as magenta.

Now, hair. I bought a new shampoo today, as I'm sick of spending almost $30 on my dread stuff. I'll report back how it turns out. It's a dandruff shampoo cos I reckon that's more drying, less fancy moisturising stuff (and maybe, just maaaybe I have a teeny bit of dandruff but don't spread my secret shame). ALso on hair: yesterday I called out to kat while I was in the shower standing in two inches of water:

'Kat?'

'Kaaaaaat?'

'KAT?!!!'

'WHAT?'

'I reckon we need drano. Look at the water, it's not going down.'

'Hm.' (looks at hair in the mirror)

'Actually...can you hand me your tweezers?'

'Here. Don't drop them down the drain.'

After she left, I went to town on the drain. Turns out all her hair was caught up in there and I pulled out the biggest hair monster I have ever, ever seen. I'm pretty sure it bit me. The water drained immediately and we saved ourselves some money and possibly the environment some heartache. Win-win.

Poo. Today we picked up all the barker's eggs in the backyard. I had no idea there was so much! We used a garbage bag and it was so heavy a hole formed! Note to self: do it weekly.

Well, that's it. I hope my advice today helps at least one person, then I've done my bit, whatever that means. Not necessarily the weight advice, even if someone avoids buying drano because of my hair monster, I'm happy.

Now, here is a pic of me at my fattest, note the donut and fat ass. Mad cans though.

Til nextie,

Tx

Who wears a knitted sweater around thier shoulders, seriously?

Ok, today I'm mad.

I made up my mind not to write this post and simply rant but I do need to vent a little.

So there's a guy who lives over the back from our house. He's a wanker. I don't know his name, so let's just call him cockmuncher for now. Note the lower case 'c', he certainly doesn't deserve a capital. When we got Rosie (Kat's new puppy) and started leaving the dogs outside when we were out, we didn't realise they bark. Probably just Rosie actually, Sunny is way too lazy. They don't bark inside when we're home, so we had no clue. The barking pissed cockmuncher off, so he came round to confront us but we weren't home. Instead of behaving like an adult and leaving a note with his details, he dobbed us in to our real estate. Low act. They sent us a letter telling us to get rid of them. Not going to happen. We're currently in the process of trying to change their minds and letting us keep them, as we're good tenants, pay our rent and look after the house well. Keep in mind, the chick who we share a fucking wall with says they're not a problem at all! She says they bark sometimes, she tells them to shut up and they do. Since the letter, we've been doing all we can to help the problem, keeping them inside when we can, not giving them treats when we leave anymore (Sunny steals Rosie's and it makes her bark) etc etc.

SO... we're on Semaphore rd today, doing some grocery shopping and this git-mutton-dressed-as-preppy-lamb with a fucking sweater draped over his shoulders stops us and goes

'Are you the people who live over the back from me?' (How the fuck would I know, moron, where do you live)

...'with the dogs?'

At this point I click and say 'oh, you're the guy that dobbed us in to our real estate for them' and the battle began. Suffice to say that he is a smarmy, pompous, self-righteous potty mouth who when I called him an asshole (hardly a swear word these days) he came back with:

'no, you're a fucking asshole' (real inventive, you're really dancin' now) to which I couldn't resist replying: ' ah, no, you're the fucking asshole.' He started it.

Anyways, I told him he was a child and should have done the mature thing and just talked to us, as I really would've tried to sort it out. Nothing was really being solved so I decided to leave. I pulled a good ol' hollywood one-liner punctuated by a finger jab: 'you know what? Fuck you.' He walked off, kinda like he still had a few beads up there if you know what I mean, grabbed his little white maltese and headed for home.

The best thing about this exchange: nothing. it made me very wound up and irritable. The funniest thing though? Through the whole thing, Kat didn't say a word, not one. I think she likes to let me do the arguing.

Since I was left with such a bad taste in my mouth, I looked at pictures of cats online, it cheers me up. Here is one doing some karate dancing, which I am quite fond of myself.

Please, everyone who reads this (all 7 of you lol) don't dob others in for things, sort it our like big people. After all, we do know that dobbers wear nappies, I learnt that in year 2.

Tx

Someone's playin' a horn, must mean somethin'...

How often do normal people blog? Am I doing it too much?

Points to ponder. I'm enjoying writing on it this often, cos I wanna write more in general and at least this is writing, so maybe it's helping me develop a good habit.

Anyway, so I was at the dawn service this morning with Kat (my gf) and I thought to myself 'I must go and write about this immediately upon returing to my place of residence'. That's my inner register, it's quite proper.

So then, here I am, at 7:30 on Sunday, the first time that I've been up voluntarily this early on a Sunday for a very, very long time. We set the alarm for ten to 6, which really wasn't early enough, as we ended up being just a tad late, arriving as the last post was playing. We were walking at a brisk pace along the newly paved footpath (which I do not like but that's not appropriate for now) and as we got closer, the notes ghosted towards us and gave me goosebumps which made my new tattoo hurt. Kat said in her typical cute blurty manner:

'What's that?' I giggled and told her it was the last post, a very significant piece of music when it comes to anything military in Australia, really. She replied:

'well, someone's playin' a horn, must mean somethin'.

'It's a bugle, but yeah, it does.'

The beach is always a cool place for a dawn service. I once attended a dawn service in East Timor on the beach, it was a very cool thing and I can remember that I cried a lil bit.

Quick sideline: I like to notice things when I do stuff, so I can remember events later in my life. I've forgotten so many things that I've done or have happened to me (like more details about the service in Timor) and I want that to end, so I look around and notice shit. Sometimes it's boring, sometimes not.

So, it was at the beach, at the clock tower thing in Sema4 (that's how the hip locals write it) and they had a catafalque party of Army guys and also a lil squad of something else, I'm ashamed to say I don't know who they were. They were older guys in uniforms that reminded me of a marching band with white helmet-hat things on. They were not a marching band as they carried rifles, not instruments. They were very cool and I enjoyed when they fired the aforementioned rifles.

Lots of prople were there, and this made me really happy and proud. I might be a tattooed, dreadlocked, riff-raff looking punk derby playing loud music loving karate dancing weirdo, but nobody can ever, ever fault my love for my country and my respect for the men and women who gave their lives for others' freedom. There was a vast array of persons there, from babies to oldies, I saw a guy with a rat's tail and a tattoo on the back of his hand! I thought it might be a small turn out cos it's a small place, but the lil square was full and people were spilling onto the road and even across it. I felt very proud of being Australian and free. I looked up at the flag which was appropriately snapping in the crisp breeze and felt a smile creep across my face. A few entrepreneurial seagulls cruised the crowd presumably thinking 'wtf? a crowd this big and nobody has chips?'

For the first time ever, they said the lord's prayer and I didn't pray. This felt weird and almost wrong, but I guess converting to anything, even atheism is hard. I realised that I didn't need to, I just used that time to remember people I never knew (hard) to make sure their lives weren't lost in vain.

Although we couldn't hear or see very well, when the service ended, being at the back of the crowd served us well, cos we were able to get to the first open café before most people and order our breakfast, which turned out to be shit.

'bacon on the side please' evidently means put it in the middle of the plate so poor vego Kat can pick around it and 'extra crispy bacon please' is code for ' pop it on the grill for minus one second and serve cold'.

In spite of the shitty breaky, the morning was a definite success and I was proud as punch of Kat for getting up with me and going, even if she didn't know what a bugle was.

...'horn', cute.

Tx

P.S. Here is my nephew just before his first mission. Happy to serve, evidently.

Caddy's gusset and more on poo, not simultaneously.

Ok, let me begin by saying that I just had the best hot drink of my life. It's called 'Creamy white cocoa hot chocloate drink' from Gloria Jean's (is there an apostrophe in that?). OMFG (please note that although I use that term I no longer believe in god. See? I even spelt 'his' name with a lower case 'g') it is way too good. I actually became stroppy and disgruntled that I found it, cos now I'm going to want it more and anything that tastes that good can't be blah blah blah. Anyway, it's good. I recommend trying it even if it does induce anger. Canadians - it's like Tim Horton's (is there an apostrohpe in that? hehe).

Moving on. So I reckon that I might take the time to write a little about me and my life. I'm a girl. Pretty much gay but I have had a bf or two (don't confuse this with bff, I have many of those). I have an amazing and hot gf who does roller derby with me, she's on my team, The Road Train Rollers. I have a wicked Mum, Awesome older bro, three of the best sisters anyone could ever ask for, two handsome nephews, and one kick-ass niece. Sounds a bit fairy tale and soppy but it's actually true. We've become a very close fam and it makes me happier than anything else in my life. My Sisters' husbands are both really cool guys and my brother's wife is Scottish and beautiful, very friggin funny. My other sister is gay too and her partner is wicked. The only grandparent I knew was my Mum's mum who died in 2008 at 101. She was without a doubt the most amazing lady ever and I miss her lots in fact I'm getting a lil teary writing this but don't worry I'll fight through. My Dad died the same year as my Nana. This event impacted my life like no other and I will headbutt anyone who tries to tell me to get over it or it gets easier. it doesn't and don't underestimate me, I have broken two boy's noses with my headbutt. I have two tattoos for my Dad and I think about him all the time.

So, having given the outline, I'm not going to go into details all at once, that would take too long so lil bits about each one, all in good time. Today it's my lil sis. Let's call her Michelle. That is not her name but it is the name my Nana called her by mistake on day in the nursing home when she was too busy flirting with the chaplain to get it right! So, Michelle it is. Michi for short. So, Michi is 2.5 years younger than me, but every time we meet new ppl she tells them we're twins. We look nothing alike so people just sorta go 'oh-ohh'. I don't know why she does this. Sometimes I beat her to it just for shits and giggles n then she doesn't know what to do. Michi just got married to a cool guitar guy with dreads like me. I've never seen anyone as good on the guitar as this guy, he shreds. Michi and I fought like cats and blah when we were young but as time went by, we got closer and closer until we fused and now we really are twins, the siamese sort. She plays ice hockey with me and lacrosse with me but not derby. She even works at my work. She's super cute and once pooed in the bath but in her mind the memory has changed and now it's me who did said poo. I don't care, cos I can actually remember it and I remember being disgusted to my five-year old core about it and screaming for Mum. Whatever helps her sleep though. She rules. That is all on Michi for today.

Half-time break so here's a pic of Falcor from The Never Ending Story. I like him and he likes a scratch.

I wanna talk now about derby last night. it was an important practice. We had practice bouts scheduled and our captain had said that since about eight ppl in our team wanna jam, she'd give us all a go and the top five scorers would get a chance in our upcoming bout on the 8th of May. Since I really wanna jam, I knew I had to work hard. I ate healthy all day, drank lots of the ol h20 and was all set... or so I thought. When I got home from work, I had the mad poo pain so off I went to the can. Diarrhoea ensued. Bad. The dog came in the room and turned straight on her heel, and she eats shit. I looked at it before I flushed, which is rare for me, but it was so odd that it actually caight my eye. It looked like spew. I can safely say I don't reckon I've ever done a poo that looked like chunder before. I thought to myself 'ooh, that's not good' but thought nothing more of it at the time. Shoot forward to derby practice... The bout had started and I had already had a jam as posi 3, which I like. Then I was handed the jammer helmet panty. In my head I was grinning ear to ear. Outwardly, cool as a blah. I did my jam. I can't even remember it which is bizarre except to say that I got three points and the other jammer none, which is a good thing. Not great, but good. Then, the problem. Usually, I can go back to back without a second thought. Especially a night when a lot rides on it and I have to try to show how hard I can work. My mate asked if I was right to go in as 3 again, and I said ...no. Just like that. No. I was knackered and couldn't seem to catch my breath. I was pissed off and shameful but I didn't show it cos remember, I am cool as blah. Anyway, next time I went in as Jammer I was put in against Smarty Pants. For anyone who is a serious follower of roller derby, that name is household. She's one of the top derby players in the world, here at the mo to train us. Inside: shitting pants. Outside: not even gunna say it again. Anyhoo, somehow my blockers were amazing and I must have been doing a lil ducking n weaving but I got lead jammer. It's Smarty though, nobody on this planet can keep her back for long. So she caught me and got in front of me and held me there *looks down in shame... actually I was already looking down cos I can't touchtype but you get the gist* and I was just too fuct to get around her or even give it a decent effort! She hit me down again and again and I kept getting up but the last one she got a bit of distance on me and I was hurting. THEN: she mooned me! Right there on the track! A lil tiny waning gibbous peeking out the top of her shorts and gently swaying from side to side. Naturally I laughed and then called the jam off cos I was lead so at least she didn't get any points. She might be my derby hero. Later, I missed some spots cos of ppl having penalties but I didn't mind, shit happens and besides, I was dead. The last jam of the night I got put in as jammer and even my cool exterior cracked and I smiled a lil bit. When it comes to jamming I'm like Garth from Wayne's world when he plays the drums in that shop - 'I like to play'... I skated my butt off, my blockers were filth I and lapped the other jammer and I reckon I might have even passed one more player before the jam ended which meant that I got 6 and they got none which is freaking sweet and I felt good about my bad ass self again. Not until I got home did I realise Why I had no energy, the damn diarrhoea! I can't believe what a difference it made. I wish I had a moral to this mammoth rant but I don't cos who knows when they're gunna get the shits and who can help it?

Wow, long post. Sorry. To make up for it here is a pic of my friend picking a wedge out at the pink lake.

K signing out, til nextie,

Tx

P.S. Caddy's gusset is slitless. This is code and Only Caddy knows what it means but go ahead and guess anyway.

Ok now I'm just showing off.

I'm writing this blog from my iPhone. Yep, I'm a futuristic robot. My sister calls it 'cosmopolitan' when she does stuff like this or eat sushi or drink coffee whilst walking in the street. I think she means 'metropolitan' but she's so damn cute I never correct her. We killed ourselves laughing when we were in gay Paris n she suggested we go c all the cute lil bouquets and I was like 'do u mean boutiques?'
aaanyway so I'm using my iPhone so if my spelling is out, LAY OFF, the keys are real small and I hate landscape, almost as much as I hate cyclists.
... No, there's no disclaimer of 'just kidding heh heh' I really do hate them, they're in my way and can't go as fast as my car.
So a kinda funny thing happened today on my way 2 work. I was already late cos I spent 2 long on Twitter (robot) and my beautiful gf (who I love madly) was in the car with me. She wanted a 'Synergy' drink (which they don't sell enuf of) so I pulled in2 a servo on port rd, the only place I know who sells it. When we were ready 2 leave, we lined up at the driveway. Some stupid doddery old bitch was in front. It became clear pretty quick that she wanted 2 pull out straight in2 the FAR lane. It was peak hour. It doesn't take a rocket surgeon 2 figure out that's just not gunna happen. Waiting...
Waiting...
Waiting. About ten 2 twelve cars lined up behind her now. I gave a polite toot toot. This started the barrage. Other ppl tooted too, then ppl started shouting. I started laughing and tooted more. The lady second in line leant out her window and shouted something. More tooting. I put my thumb on the horn and left it there. My gf was horrified n started trying to stop me. I had to use both hands. She was trying frantically to rip them off and juggle her drink and yell at me all at once. I was laughing and tooting. Ppl started shouting more. Words like 'stupid', 'bitch' and 'moron' were flying around, and not just from my mouth. The lady second in line got out of her car and went up 2 the alleged moron, shouting and gesturing wildly with her hands... The woman still sat there.
Eventually, she crawled off and we had seriously spent about 5 mins in that servo. That's way 2 long if ur not even buying fuel. Consequently, I was 5 mins late 2 work.
The moral of this story? There isn't one really. Just don't piss ppl off when it's peak hour n ur a doddery old bitch who can't drive.
That is all, work 2 do.
Tx

I have the power!

Ok, after about two hours I have this thing up and running. Now, to get ppl to follow it...


taps fingers together...


hungry...

Maybe I'll tweet about it. I am so advanced.

P.S. How much of a fuck up is Heidi Montag? I'm not even sorry to say it. She was a hottie and now she looks like a scary fembot. Aaaand, wtf is with her husband (are they married) Spencer Pratt???? I haven't seen anyone live up to their name so well since Mr Blackman taught me in year 3. And yes, he was black. And no, I'm not racist, just stating a fact.
Out.

And away she rolls...

Alright.

So, I finally have a blog. Yes, I want to be a writer, not just a pretentious git who wants people to share their innermost thoughts. I have writer friends. Their advice: start with a blog. So here I am in my mini study which looks more like a junk room, floor covered with dog hair of two varieties and the dogs who shed it, not even wearing a bra and daring to write to possible people who may read it.

BE WARNED: you might be offended! I might talk about poo or my thoughts on porn and I plan to air my opinions with almost complete disregard for who may be left bloodied and dying along the way!

Now that the housework is taken care of, what does one blog about? Current affairs? one's own life? Opinions and rantings? I'm going to scratch current affairs because that shit is boooooring and anyone can turn on the tv anyway. P'raps I'll start with me and go from there. Please note that I do like to occasionally use old school abbreviations like e'ry and o'er. No reason why so maybe I am a pretentious git after all. Moving on. I got a tattoo yesterday. I love it. It's a big (well pretty big) koi fish on my left forearm. I sat for four hours on that thing. Clancy from the Body Art Shop in Adelaide did it, she's very good. Did it hurt? Yes. Not all of it, but having your elbow scrotum tattoed is horrid and I wouldn't recommend it unless absolutely necessary. Knowing this, I probably would've done it wanyway because I like to think I'm pretty hard and I like to prove that. Here's a pic of the koi.

So now my sleeve is finished. Well, almost, I might get a bit of colour in there later. So now I have a big chubby elbow and it hurts. That aside, my arm is now much less boring and I would recommend any of the artists at the Body Art Shop if you want a tattoo.

So, that's recent stuff. Something else I reckon I should blog about is roller derby. It's so hot right now. It's my first year doing it and I love it. I really want to be a jammer. Unfortunately for me, so does just about everyone else so I got my work cut out for me. Seriously, there is a reason this sport is awesome, several actually, I'll list them. It's sexy. Show me a man (straight man) who doesn't want to watch scantily clad women smash each other to the ground? Add gay women to that group. I can talk about gay women cos I'm gay, well mostly. Also, it's brutal. Sexy or not, there's so many people who wanna watch anything brutal. And here is the clincher (yes I am aware that I started a sentence with and, I DON'T care), it is empowering and inclusive. Shit, there was a reason I took up inline and then ice hockey, cos not many women play and women are BITCHES (we all know it, just admit it) and can't get along in sport. Derby has turned that on its head. I have never in my life seen well over a hundred women get in one room, smash the shit out of each other and not utter one bitchy word or snide remark! It's very cool. Also, women of all ages and sizes can play (except if you're under 18), they can find something everyone is good at. The wagon is getting pretty loaded and I gotta be honest, I don't know what's gunna happen at the end of this year when another hundred chicks turn up. I'll write more on derby later, it's awesome, that's all for now.

Should I write more about me? I guess... I live in Adelaide, I'm 32, I have a girlfriend, two dogs, two cats and I'm in love with my iphone, that's about it. I work at the Ice Arena. I used to play ice hockey but it got too competitive and a bit bitchy so I retired. Also the politics are bullshit.

Now, I did promise talk of poo so here it is: we're currently our of tp so I had to wipe my as with wet ones. It was squidgy, 'nuff said.

Well, I s'pose that's enuf for today.

Self analysis: Was I interesting? Mildly.

Was I funny? Not really.

Was I dirty? I did say poo. Twice.

Sweet. Done. Til soon,

Robi

P.S. here is a pic of my dog wearing headphones.