That really needs a Glaswegian font...
So, been going to the gym, to try to offload some of the fat and unfit. Progress reports have been requested, so here goes!
Session 1: (Monday fortnight ago) Gangbusters! Did 1/2 an hour on the treadmill, moderate walk, and 15 mins on the elliptical runner.
Session 2: (the following Wednesday) Even more gangbusters! Same as above, faster walk, much faster on the runner. Pushed out 20 each of push-ups and tricep dips. Not many, but they were all good ones.
Session 3: Last Wed. Oh. My. God. Kill me now... Did half an hour in total. Struggled for every second.
Session 4: Tuesday just gone - 1/2 an hour, 15 mins each, fast walk and high speed runner. Thank goodness the dire wah wah is over!
Session 5: This arvo. Not so good as Tues. Half an hour. Fast walk, high speed runner. Ankle was hurting, and I think it was just a bit too hot (yup, I picked a cheap gym with no aircon...)
So I think that my body is getting over the initial shock of the unaccustomed exercise, and my endurance should start to improve a bit. I'm not too fussed about short sessions at this point - better to do 20 mins of intense, and work up a sweat, that 40 mins of lacklustre.
Starving! Chooky and salad wraps, here I come!
Made from Fail...
Today I...
- Left the air-conditioner on in the bedroom
- Left the fridge door slightly ajar
- Left the back door open, and the screen unlocked
Apparently, I was trying to keep the house cool for the kitties, or something. I'm not looking forward to the next electricity bill.
Hey! I'm walkin' here!
The walking seems to be helping. At least it's starting to hurt later into the walk and less all told. I haven't had the urge to drive home all week...
In other news - I thought I owned two cats, but apparently I own one cat and one pig in a cat costume. And it's not the cat you'd expect who is the food-a-holic. She must have hollow legs, or an enormous stomach that exists in another dimension. I really hate people, even small furry ones, who can eat and eat and eat and are still skinny. Hah! A pox on you all! Unless of course I actually like you, in which case I only hate you a little bit. I don't care that this doesn't make sense - it's my blog, it doesn't have to!
In other news - I thought I owned two cats, but apparently I own one cat and one pig in a cat costume. And it's not the cat you'd expect who is the food-a-holic. She must have hollow legs, or an enormous stomach that exists in another dimension. I really hate people, even small furry ones, who can eat and eat and eat and are still skinny. Hah! A pox on you all! Unless of course I actually like you, in which case I only hate you a little bit. I don't care that this doesn't make sense - it's my blog, it doesn't have to!
Unfit
I went for a walk this afternoon. I'm fairly sure that all this accomplished was to drive home just how horribly unfit I am at the moment. I can see that there's going to need to be a lot more walking in the immediate future to remedy this sorry state of affairs.
Weird...
It’s a “mystery”!
Some of you will have heard me grizzle earlier this week about the little turds from across the street coming onto our property when we weren’t there, playing silly-buggers in the pool area and chicken coop, and allegedly stealing the eggs. Well, it got worse before it got better.
On Wednesday night, when Rusty went to lock the chookies in for the night, he came back to the house for a torch, because he couldn’t find one of the girls. She has been really broody, a side-effect of which is that she is very docile, and easy to pick up. We feared then that she had been stolen (chooknapped?), but unfortunately had no proof. This didn’t stop R from marching over the road in a contained fury and confronting the turds about Monday’s trespass, to which they blithely claimed that that they were not guilty. This was, of course, patently untrue, because they had been seen and identified by our next-door-neighbour (who we like), and they shut up pretty quickly when presented with this information. So, without resorting to trespass ourselves in search of evidence, we assumed the inevitable – we had lost another chook.
When I got home from work on Thursday night, however, R tells me that the broody chook is back. Apparently, she had been found next door, in the garden of the Nice Neighbour. Now, there’s no way on god’s green earth that she could have got over there under her own steam, and given that she rarely ventures out of the chook house these days, there’s no way she would have tried. This is interesting, though, because we had locked or wired shut the gates down the side and along the front of the carport, so there’s no way that anyone could get into our backyard without a) making a lot of noise and b) being really obvious about it. So, we are thinking that the Great Chicken Bandits (aka turds) took the next best option of returning our property (now that they knew they were under extreme suspicion) was to sneak it into the unlocked backyard of the people next-door.
So, in the end, no real harm was done. Nonetheless, this is still a real betrayal. We have been pretty good to those kids – we have lent them tools and household articles pretty much whenever they have asked, I gave them a bicycle that was given to me that I was never going to ride, R has helped them with projects on occasion – and our repayment was trespass and petty theft (it makes me wonder about a bunch of other things that seem to have gone “missing”, including one of the new passionfruit seedlings that was at the bottom of the driveway). It’s pretty sad, isn’t it? You think you’re building trust and respect, but instead you’re just making yourself into a chump to be taken advantage of. Fucking people.
On an interesting note - I wrote the text of this blog at work using Outlook (it was a ghost town there today) and I was a bit surprised at what spellcheck picked up, as well as what it didn’t. Turds, which is a word in use in pretty much all of the English speaking countries in the world, got a squiggly red underline. Chooks, on the other hand, which I’m pretty sure is an Australianism* unrecognised anywhere offshore (with perhaps the exception of New Zealand) did not. Weird.
*Australianism, which is a real word, in the same way that Americanism is a real and recognised word, also fails the MS spellcheck test. The first suggested alternative is Australianise, which, as far as I am concerned, is not a real word, and is something that someone in the spellcheck office merely pulled out of their arse...
Four weddings...
... and a trainwreck.
I watched that new show on channel 7, where four brides go to each others weddings, and rate things like the dress, the reception, the ceremony, and the food. I knew it would be awful, and I wasn't disappointed!
So, what happens when you stick three bogan chicks and a LARPer into the above formula? Trainwreck, with added saucers of milk. Yup - meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, snark, snark, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, Rowr! Phttt, meow, meow, meow, meow. Nary a nice word was spoken by any of them (actually, the LARP chick was probably the nicest, but she was perfectly prepared to dish the dirt when she felt it was required). The $8,000 wedding dress was deemed to look like a Barbie dress (I hate to say it, but this comment wasn't too far off the mark), the second-hand dress was deemed to be "cheap and tacky", even though it was probably the nicest, the fireworks were sneered at, the "historical re-enactment" wedding selfishly made the guests stand (stand! oh the humanity!) outside in a beautiful garden for a whole hour, and the Lebanese wedding with the drums and the extended wedding party introductions got more than it's fair share of extravagant eye-rolling.
When it all comes down to it, all of the weddings looked to be fairly well within the realms of the average wedding, really. They all had aspects that were OTT, they all had things that were lovely and well done, and things that were a bit on the nose. The important thing - all the girls seemed to have a wonderful time at their own wedding, which is the only real important thing when it comes down to it.
Oh, and to top it all off - the meanest and nastiest girl, who said not a positive word about anybody's wedding but her own? She was the one who got the free holiday.
All in all, I found it to be quite entertaining, mostly because it lived up (or rather down) to my expectations. I only wish that the most outstanding bitchiness of the day wasn't so lavishly rewarded. Just goes to show - it really does pay to trample everyone else's hopes and dreams to get to the prize.
I watched that new show on channel 7, where four brides go to each others weddings, and rate things like the dress, the reception, the ceremony, and the food. I knew it would be awful, and I wasn't disappointed!
So, what happens when you stick three bogan chicks and a LARPer into the above formula? Trainwreck, with added saucers of milk. Yup - meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, snark, snark, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, Rowr! Phttt, meow, meow, meow, meow. Nary a nice word was spoken by any of them (actually, the LARP chick was probably the nicest, but she was perfectly prepared to dish the dirt when she felt it was required). The $8,000 wedding dress was deemed to look like a Barbie dress (I hate to say it, but this comment wasn't too far off the mark), the second-hand dress was deemed to be "cheap and tacky", even though it was probably the nicest, the fireworks were sneered at, the "historical re-enactment" wedding selfishly made the guests stand (stand! oh the humanity!) outside in a beautiful garden for a whole hour, and the Lebanese wedding with the drums and the extended wedding party introductions got more than it's fair share of extravagant eye-rolling.
When it all comes down to it, all of the weddings looked to be fairly well within the realms of the average wedding, really. They all had aspects that were OTT, they all had things that were lovely and well done, and things that were a bit on the nose. The important thing - all the girls seemed to have a wonderful time at their own wedding, which is the only real important thing when it comes down to it.
Oh, and to top it all off - the meanest and nastiest girl, who said not a positive word about anybody's wedding but her own? She was the one who got the free holiday.
All in all, I found it to be quite entertaining, mostly because it lived up (or rather down) to my expectations. I only wish that the most outstanding bitchiness of the day wasn't so lavishly rewarded. Just goes to show - it really does pay to trample everyone else's hopes and dreams to get to the prize.
:-(
Serious sad face.
Something killed one of our chooks today (and not the one that was left slightly broken after the last attack, more's the pity). Apparently, just because it could. She doesn't look like she's been particularly nommed on, it just appears that one of her wings and her neck were broken. If I find out what did it, I will rip its fucking head off and stick it up its arse.
In other grumbles - Channel 7, can you go and get a big black dog up you, please? I might have appalling taste in television, but if you promise me that I can watch Bones and Criminal Minds, I would actually like to be able to watch them. Instead, my shows are pushed waaaaay out of their time-slots by mutha-humping reality programmes. Dancing with the Stars? Stars?!? Who are you kidding? D-Grade minor lifestyle-show hosts and footballer's ex-wives are not stars. I'm not even going to touch on X-Factor, mostly due to the fact that it has Kyle Sandilands in it, and then I would need to take a shower...
And to top it all off, I ran out of petrol on Friday arvo, despite the fact that the petrol light had only just come on, which usually means another 20kms. Not this time, apparently.
Sigh. I must have pushed Murphy's granny down the stairs. Moral of this story? Always check who's granny it is that you're elbowing out of the way...*
*This is a JOKE. I only push little kids down the stairs... (also a joke)
Something killed one of our chooks today (and not the one that was left slightly broken after the last attack, more's the pity). Apparently, just because it could. She doesn't look like she's been particularly nommed on, it just appears that one of her wings and her neck were broken. If I find out what did it, I will rip its fucking head off and stick it up its arse.
In other grumbles - Channel 7, can you go and get a big black dog up you, please? I might have appalling taste in television, but if you promise me that I can watch Bones and Criminal Minds, I would actually like to be able to watch them. Instead, my shows are pushed waaaaay out of their time-slots by mutha-humping reality programmes. Dancing with the Stars? Stars?!? Who are you kidding? D-Grade minor lifestyle-show hosts and footballer's ex-wives are not stars. I'm not even going to touch on X-Factor, mostly due to the fact that it has Kyle Sandilands in it, and then I would need to take a shower...
And to top it all off, I ran out of petrol on Friday arvo, despite the fact that the petrol light had only just come on, which usually means another 20kms. Not this time, apparently.
Sigh. I must have pushed Murphy's granny down the stairs. Moral of this story? Always check who's granny it is that you're elbowing out of the way...*
*This is a JOKE. I only push little kids down the stairs... (also a joke)
Hooray!
Voting is over. Now my letterbox and evening television watching hours can remain untainted by the misery and unadulterated muck-raking that is political advertising.
Oh, and the best bit? Putting an 11 in the little green box next to the Fred Nile Group.
Oh, and the best bit? Putting an 11 in the little green box next to the Fred Nile Group.
So true!
Quote from Scrubs, which generally don't watch, but since it comes on straight after something I do watch, sometimes some of it filters through...
"People are bastard covered bastards with bastard filling."
So true.
"People are bastard covered bastards with bastard filling."
So true.
Crappy telly... and ducklings!
Whether you loved it, or just didn't hate it, the end of Masterchef at 7.30 on weeknights has left an enormous black hole in prime-time programming. Now, there is the fine choice of The Simpsons (urgh), World's Strictest Parents (watching belligerent teens carrying on like pork chops? I don't think so), or Two and a Half Men (kill me, kill me now). Yes, yes, there is the 7.30 Report, but I want light entertainment, not thinking! Please can we have something worth watching?
On a more pleasant note, on Saturday morning, R called from the front door in an urgent kind of voice for me to come quickly. I did so, to see a pair of native ducks, like this one:
Down the street. Awwww, the cute, it makes my head asplode! It was a moment of great squee.
On a more pleasant note, on Saturday morning, R called from the front door in an urgent kind of voice for me to come quickly. I did so, to see a pair of native ducks, like this one:
herding a gaggle of fluffy little baby ducklings, like these:
Down the street. Awwww, the cute, it makes my head asplode! It was a moment of great squee.
Stuff
I've been sick. Again. This is the fourth time in 8 months, and the second time that I've needed nearly 4 days off work. This actually makes me REALLY CRANKY. I don't like being sick, and I don't like being sick so often. So, I went home from work early on Tuesday, and today, six days later, I am still not back to full health, and am getting very puffed and tired very easily. Grr.
In more positive news, I am now officially a permanent employee at my place of work, and have a new title - Tender Co-ordinator, which comes with a small pay increase (I was hoping for a large pay increase, but working for a US-based company can have some drawbacks). Hooray! I work with a pretty awesome team, and the office is only a ten minute drive away. All good.
I think I ate close to my own bodyweight in cakes and finger sandwiches yesterday afternoon. It was lovely. I like proper afternoon teas. I think I might have one for my birthday, too. Oh, and a night out at a posh restaurant. I'd like to have a big flash thing to celebrate the big number, but I don't think I can be bothered at this point...
Rusty is making dinner tonight. I swear, buying him a Jamie Oliver cookbook for Chrissy a couple of years back was a really good idea!
In more positive news, I am now officially a permanent employee at my place of work, and have a new title - Tender Co-ordinator, which comes with a small pay increase (I was hoping for a large pay increase, but working for a US-based company can have some drawbacks). Hooray! I work with a pretty awesome team, and the office is only a ten minute drive away. All good.
I think I ate close to my own bodyweight in cakes and finger sandwiches yesterday afternoon. It was lovely. I like proper afternoon teas. I think I might have one for my birthday, too. Oh, and a night out at a posh restaurant. I'd like to have a big flash thing to celebrate the big number, but I don't think I can be bothered at this point...
Rusty is making dinner tonight. I swear, buying him a Jamie Oliver cookbook for Chrissy a couple of years back was a really good idea!
Thanks for the messages of chicken solidarity, the girls appreciate them greatly... :-D
So - ChickenMissing turned up. She was just hiding, or so it appears. ChickenInjured is doing much better, she's eating and drinking, at least a bit, so she should get better pretty quickly.
We are almost certain it's a cat - there are zillions of them around here, and we've never seen or heard anything that would suggest foxes in the area. Rusty-the-ex-chicken-farmer has seen the aftermath of plenty of fox attacks, and he reckons it's quite a different M.O. This is good, cos I reckon a fox would be more likely to come back and try again.
Anyways, we think that it will all come good in the end.
So - ChickenMissing turned up. She was just hiding, or so it appears. ChickenInjured is doing much better, she's eating and drinking, at least a bit, so she should get better pretty quickly.
We are almost certain it's a cat - there are zillions of them around here, and we've never seen or heard anything that would suggest foxes in the area. Rusty-the-ex-chicken-farmer has seen the aftermath of plenty of fox attacks, and he reckons it's quite a different M.O. This is good, cos I reckon a fox would be more likely to come back and try again.
Anyways, we think that it will all come good in the end.
Chicken troubles
They've been doing so well up until now...
Last night seems to have become a turning point, though. At about 10 or so, Rusty went down to the garage to get something, and discovered that one of the girls was out of the enclosed portion of the yard, and couldn't get back in. It was dark, and she was cold and alone (awww), so R put her in the coop, admonishing her that if she had stayed where she was supposed to, she wouldn't be in this predicament.
In the wee small hours, R was woken up by the sound of the chickens being attacked by something. He was sleeping in the spare room at the back of the house (he wanted to get up at 5am, and he knows how grumpy I am at being woken at oh-god o'clock, only to have the snooze button used 15 times...) which is just as well. He opened the back door, at which the @$%&*!ing offender scarpered, fortunately not taking one of our chooks with it. The morning showed the coop full of feathers, and one of the girls injured and in shock. She seems to be a lot better this arvo, though, so she should be ok. We haven't been locking them in the coop, because we haven't needed to - they take themselves to bed at bed time, and no-one has bothered them in all the time we've had them. The effing cats in this neighbourhood, who wander all over the effing place, into my effing house to eat my cats' effiing food, and now trying to eat my effing chickens as well... Not happy, Jan.
Rusty got home this arvo, and went out to check on the chooks. I got home, had a look at Injured Chook, and then realised there were only 3. "They were all here when I got home!" Rusty exclaimed, "That was only half an hour ago!"
So the tally stands at one injured (although on the mend) and one missing. They all seem to have been through enough trauma that they are not laying.
Sigh. Obviously a sacrifice needs to be made to the Chicken Gods, or something. Good thing we're having lamb for dinner, eh?
Last night seems to have become a turning point, though. At about 10 or so, Rusty went down to the garage to get something, and discovered that one of the girls was out of the enclosed portion of the yard, and couldn't get back in. It was dark, and she was cold and alone (awww), so R put her in the coop, admonishing her that if she had stayed where she was supposed to, she wouldn't be in this predicament.
In the wee small hours, R was woken up by the sound of the chickens being attacked by something. He was sleeping in the spare room at the back of the house (he wanted to get up at 5am, and he knows how grumpy I am at being woken at oh-god o'clock, only to have the snooze button used 15 times...) which is just as well. He opened the back door, at which the @$%&*!ing offender scarpered, fortunately not taking one of our chooks with it. The morning showed the coop full of feathers, and one of the girls injured and in shock. She seems to be a lot better this arvo, though, so she should be ok. We haven't been locking them in the coop, because we haven't needed to - they take themselves to bed at bed time, and no-one has bothered them in all the time we've had them. The effing cats in this neighbourhood, who wander all over the effing place, into my effing house to eat my cats' effiing food, and now trying to eat my effing chickens as well... Not happy, Jan.
Rusty got home this arvo, and went out to check on the chooks. I got home, had a look at Injured Chook, and then realised there were only 3. "They were all here when I got home!" Rusty exclaimed, "That was only half an hour ago!"
So the tally stands at one injured (although on the mend) and one missing. They all seem to have been through enough trauma that they are not laying.
Sigh. Obviously a sacrifice needs to be made to the Chicken Gods, or something. Good thing we're having lamb for dinner, eh?
We're shifting into high gear with this totally ass rapingly awesome hyper ball gargling Spiderman stick shift knob modification
I laughed so hard I nearly passed out. Regrets y is bad, bad, bad for my ability to not spend my whole life on the interwebs, laughing at the amazing lack of talent so many "crafters" possess.
The totally awesome Spiderman Shite-Mobile takes, not just the cake, but the whole goddamn patisserie.
The totally awesome Spiderman Shite-Mobile takes, not just the cake, but the whole goddamn patisserie.
What's wrong with this picture?
I went to an all-day finance meeting today that didn't suck.
No, I don't really believe it either.
There were also team building exercises that also did not suck. No really, I'm not lying!
The actual financial part of the meeting was actually relatively brief, and against all the laws of accountancy, our financial controller is a very good public speaker - he is engaging, well spoken and interesting. At least, my eyes don't slide instantly shut upon hearing the words "forecast", "budget" or "projected growth".
The team building exercises were very simple, and surprisingly effective. The first one had everyone standing up, and ready to move about the room. You shook the hand of the person next to you, and you told them your name, and they told you theirs. Then you said their name, and they said yours. And then you moved on to the next person, and so on around the room. It was all over in 5 minutes, pushed no-one too far out of their comfort zone, and actually got us to meet other people in the greater department.
We were divided into teams for the next team building exercise (which involved building a tower out of spaghetti, masking tape and string, and putting a marshmallow on the top (ours sagged gracefully over until it deposited the marshmallow onto the table - the idea was to build the highest one. And no, before you ask, I don't know what this has to do with finance...), and the method of choosing the teams was kinda nifty. Everyone picked a piece of puzzle out of a box - there were 6 pieces to each puzzle, and about 6 puzzles - and you had to find the people with the other pieces to your puzzle. The teams not only found all of their members, but all put their puzzles together to see the picture, completely spontaneously. It actually made a fantastic ice breaker, and provided a really good rallying point, if you will, for interaction.
I know that i am starting to sound like I have got religion - don't fret, I'm still the same old miserable cynic that I've always been! I am, however, very pleasantly surprised to discover that it is possible to have a positive experience at an all-day, team building finance event.
Who knew?
No, I don't really believe it either.
There were also team building exercises that also did not suck. No really, I'm not lying!
The actual financial part of the meeting was actually relatively brief, and against all the laws of accountancy, our financial controller is a very good public speaker - he is engaging, well spoken and interesting. At least, my eyes don't slide instantly shut upon hearing the words "forecast", "budget" or "projected growth".
The team building exercises were very simple, and surprisingly effective. The first one had everyone standing up, and ready to move about the room. You shook the hand of the person next to you, and you told them your name, and they told you theirs. Then you said their name, and they said yours. And then you moved on to the next person, and so on around the room. It was all over in 5 minutes, pushed no-one too far out of their comfort zone, and actually got us to meet other people in the greater department.
We were divided into teams for the next team building exercise (which involved building a tower out of spaghetti, masking tape and string, and putting a marshmallow on the top (ours sagged gracefully over until it deposited the marshmallow onto the table - the idea was to build the highest one. And no, before you ask, I don't know what this has to do with finance...), and the method of choosing the teams was kinda nifty. Everyone picked a piece of puzzle out of a box - there were 6 pieces to each puzzle, and about 6 puzzles - and you had to find the people with the other pieces to your puzzle. The teams not only found all of their members, but all put their puzzles together to see the picture, completely spontaneously. It actually made a fantastic ice breaker, and provided a really good rallying point, if you will, for interaction.
I know that i am starting to sound like I have got religion - don't fret, I'm still the same old miserable cynic that I've always been! I am, however, very pleasantly surprised to discover that it is possible to have a positive experience at an all-day, team building finance event.
Who knew?
I like my entertainment to be light and fluffy...
That's not so much of what I got tonight, though. (Warning: once you get to the bit about SVU, I start talking about rape.)
Some of it was, of course. It's not possible to watch Glee when they are doing a Lady Gaga special, and not get a lot of fluff. But the writers are really good at addressing some interesting social issues.
The part that I found most touching was the way that Kurt's dad really stood up for him, his sexuality, and his lifestyle choice. That he was prepared to risk his own happiness with a woman that he cares about in order to protect his gay son. Now this guy is a mechanic, the kind who wears a trucker's cap and one of those sleeveless puffer jackets. He's a man's man. But whoo baby, don't fuck with his family. It's one of the things that Glee does really well - it really portrays "alternative" lifestyle choices as being perfectly valid, even desirable, which is seven kinds of awesome in my opinion.
What I really struggled with tonight was SVU. I used to watch it a lot, and then kinda got over it a bit, and have been watching it a bit recently, mostly because there's nothing else on. The case on tonight's show was a rape, as many of them are. One of the characters was a witness to the rape, and was reluctant to testify because she was in the US illegally. Her story came out in rather dramatic detail during the trail, and it was all I could do to keep it together.
She was a refugee from the Congo, an area rife with conflict. Rebels had forced her way into her home, and raped her and her five year old daughter, who then dies. Her husband then throws her out, because he can't stand the shame. She is later picked up and taken to one of the camps of the rebel militia, where she, and many other women, are beaten, tortured and raped, over and over again. She tells of how she was penetrated with guns, and that once one of the men doing this pulled the trigger.
I know that this is a TV drama, and is a fictional story. But really, we all know that none of this shit is made up. We all know that anything that happens on shows like this has happened, many times, to many people. It does my head in, big time. Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with human beings?
Argh - sorry for the major downer. It was just one of those things I had to share, y'know?
Anyways, I'm off to bed now. I might need some brainless fluff to read to clear my head... hmm, pity I only have book number two of the Twilight series (and that was a joke present, and all), that would certainly fit the bill.
Some of it was, of course. It's not possible to watch Glee when they are doing a Lady Gaga special, and not get a lot of fluff. But the writers are really good at addressing some interesting social issues.
The part that I found most touching was the way that Kurt's dad really stood up for him, his sexuality, and his lifestyle choice. That he was prepared to risk his own happiness with a woman that he cares about in order to protect his gay son. Now this guy is a mechanic, the kind who wears a trucker's cap and one of those sleeveless puffer jackets. He's a man's man. But whoo baby, don't fuck with his family. It's one of the things that Glee does really well - it really portrays "alternative" lifestyle choices as being perfectly valid, even desirable, which is seven kinds of awesome in my opinion.
What I really struggled with tonight was SVU. I used to watch it a lot, and then kinda got over it a bit, and have been watching it a bit recently, mostly because there's nothing else on. The case on tonight's show was a rape, as many of them are. One of the characters was a witness to the rape, and was reluctant to testify because she was in the US illegally. Her story came out in rather dramatic detail during the trail, and it was all I could do to keep it together.
She was a refugee from the Congo, an area rife with conflict. Rebels had forced her way into her home, and raped her and her five year old daughter, who then dies. Her husband then throws her out, because he can't stand the shame. She is later picked up and taken to one of the camps of the rebel militia, where she, and many other women, are beaten, tortured and raped, over and over again. She tells of how she was penetrated with guns, and that once one of the men doing this pulled the trigger.
I know that this is a TV drama, and is a fictional story. But really, we all know that none of this shit is made up. We all know that anything that happens on shows like this has happened, many times, to many people. It does my head in, big time. Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with human beings?
Argh - sorry for the major downer. It was just one of those things I had to share, y'know?
Anyways, I'm off to bed now. I might need some brainless fluff to read to clear my head... hmm, pity I only have book number two of the Twilight series (and that was a joke present, and all), that would certainly fit the bill.
Blergh
I'z sick. Thanks to the snot monster who has appropriated my form and is now residing in my dressing gown and fluffy slippers. Thanks a lot.
On the plus side, I got a lot of sleep today...
On the plus side, I got a lot of sleep today...
Because Snuggies are, like, sooo five minutes ago...
Think Snuggies are stupid? Yeah, me too.
But these... these would be so totally... well, stupid too.
But these... these would be so totally... well, stupid too.
Meet the Lazypatch Duvet Suit. Yup, that's a doona that you wear like a pair of jammies. Apparently, they are the perfect Mother's Day gift, according to the ad that played late at night on Go, which goes to show what their advertising budget is. They will cost you, however, around $150, which makes them about 10 times the cost of your regular KMart flannelette pjs. And you get to look like a huge twonk in the process! Hooray!
Mmm, duvet suit - for when you just don't feel Michelin Man enough in your regular jimmy-jams.
Timing is paramount...
Apparently, I have not only been kicking Murphy's dog, but this time I pushed his granny down the stairs as well, because that bastard has it in for me.
Our hot water heater has gone the way of the dodo. Dead as a doornail. Pushing up daisies. Etc, et-bloody-cetera.
It chose to sing it's swan song the day after the weather finally realised that it's not summer any more, right at the time when a cold shower becomes actively unbearable. See what I mean? Murphy, you bastard, bugger off and bother someone else for a while, will you?
On the plus side, this has precipitated our prospective plan to give the old and expensive-to-run electric storage system the ole heave-ho, and get LPG shipped in. Oh yeah, we don't have a natural gas main up our street, or this would have been done years ago... On the less than plus side, this is a two-and-a-half grand spend we hadn't counted on. Poo. Still, I am looking forward to instantaneous gas hot water, coming from a heater that is no more than two metres away from the taps, rather than ten (yup, the person who designed our house was an idiot).
In the meantime, it's a good thing I got in all that practice bathing in a bucket at Festival. I'm really hoping that this week will not end with me in a miasma of my own unwashedness. Ew.
Our hot water heater has gone the way of the dodo. Dead as a doornail. Pushing up daisies. Etc, et-bloody-cetera.
It chose to sing it's swan song the day after the weather finally realised that it's not summer any more, right at the time when a cold shower becomes actively unbearable. See what I mean? Murphy, you bastard, bugger off and bother someone else for a while, will you?
On the plus side, this has precipitated our prospective plan to give the old and expensive-to-run electric storage system the ole heave-ho, and get LPG shipped in. Oh yeah, we don't have a natural gas main up our street, or this would have been done years ago... On the less than plus side, this is a two-and-a-half grand spend we hadn't counted on. Poo. Still, I am looking forward to instantaneous gas hot water, coming from a heater that is no more than two metres away from the taps, rather than ten (yup, the person who designed our house was an idiot).
In the meantime, it's a good thing I got in all that practice bathing in a bucket at Festival. I'm really hoping that this week will not end with me in a miasma of my own unwashedness. Ew.
