Bunny rage: this could break out into a fight - or dancing.

Well, there really isn't a point to this post (is there to any of them?), I just felt such an impulse to write. I am having a verrrry chilled out day. I'm home by myself, nothing I have to do, so it's just me and the dogs chillaxin'.

Earlier, I realised that the last time I sat on my front poorch to get some sun was at the begining of summer last year.

'Y'know what?' - (This is my inner monologue talking)

'Y'know what? I'm gunna sit on the porch. So, I grabbed a grape soda and set out to flex.

The plan didn't go quite as envisaged. I moved two of the wheelie bins to block the gap below the gate, under which can fit a fattish white dog, let alone a skinny black one. This I thought was effective til a snorting pig-like thing rumbled past and both dogs launched for it. I grabbed Sunny by her generous back skin in time and then Rosie by her shoulders. I had to put my iphone down, which I am loathe to do ever.

Plan revised: lie recycling bin on its side to fully block the gap.

After this, I thought I might try lying on the concrete. I drew my knees up and spread my dreads out like a sparkling array of bayonets at sunrise. My arms I let fall out to each side, like that basketball pic without the basketball and lying on the ground, not 8 ft into the air.

I looked at the sky and thought lots of things. Why is the sky blue? Lucky, cos I reckon green would look icky. Why do planes leave a white trail across the sky? How did I get so old so quick? Where did that beach towel go that I used to have when I was little with a pic of a kid swimming on it? All of these things and more were whirling around inside my head cavity and I felt like I was in a centrifuge or one of those game show things where you get in a booth with money flying around everywhere (or is it cans of food). Anyway, I was really enjoying it, I could tell cos my face was smiling. Suddenly the Turton st banshee (over the road neighbour) let out a cry that would awaken even the deafest cadaver. I sat up (slowly, that's how things seem to be going lately) and tipped my sunnies up to get a look at her cave with my keen eyes. After the glare seared my retinas, I decided that hearing her was enough. Boy, was she tearing her kids to bits! She ruined my reverie but I was still chilled so I didn't care.

Then, I noticed that the pink bit of fluff that the dogs had been fighting over was actually a severed bunny head minus the fluffy filling. It fit neatly over my fist. I could make it look this way and that, raise one sceptic eyebrow, widen both eyes in horror (or fright), nodd and... dance. Oh, did I make that bunny head dance. Humming the tune Another One Bites the Dust by Queen, I fused a little bit of flashdance with some MC Hammer shit and letter rip. There was even a moonwalk in there. As I was practicing making the bunny do the splits, my neighbour arrived and we had a little chat, thus ended my afternoon in the sun.

So, that's about it. Oh, except for last night I dreamt I was watching a rodeo then we had a feast, but there was so much cheese! I was in cheese 'heaven'... camembert, jarlsberg, gouda... weird but tantalising.

Have a great weekend!

Tx

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.

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