friday.

aaah friday.  and i have the day off.  double the goodness.   after a couple of days hangin’ with the boss,  i need the break. in a few minutes, i have to run and get my hair cut but let the day slip by without saying hello.  i actually did a load of laundry this morning and worked out for 45 minutes.  how’s that for productivity?  i may even work on my painting later today.

speaking of working out,  it certainly is the answer to curbing my psychoness.  i always said it was the case and now the proof is in the pudding. i’ve been working out for 45 minutes, five days a week and i feel considerably more balanced.  and i think i’m nicer to people (i know, right?). so if that’s not motivation, i don’t know what is.  this morning’s workout went by really quickly.  i put on some gangster rap and made up my own words as i tried to rap/sing along – one of the reasons why i can’t work out when other people are around.

on saturday, the Brit and I are going to see Avenue Q.  i can’t wait.  i wanted ot see it when we were in london but we just didn’t have the time.  the Brit isn’t big on musicals but when i told him it was a dirty, lewd version of sesame street, he was game. 

sunday, we have NO plans so i very much look foward to a lazy day.

right, i’m off to get my hair cut.  i’m going to grow it out a little.  my mother hates short hair on me.  she doesn’t say those words exactly but “you don’t look like a girl anymore” i think pretty much qualifies. 

still looking busy.

boss man still lurking around (flies back to sydney tonight).  i wanted to put fake meetings in his outlook diary so he would leave his desk for a while.  he’s making me work on the nerdiest projects ever (Excel VBA programming – WTF?)

promise to write more tomorrow.

x

quick! look busy!

damn! i forgot the big boss man is down from sydney this morning.  i’ve mastered toggling between legitimate-looking websites and youtube in the blink of an eye.  oh happy day. more later…

mindless dribble.

i’ve been really busy today doing crap work and i even volunteered to do it because i was bored out of my skull.  the task was exceedingly mind-numbing.  i feel like i just spent the last few hours watching  dogs chase their own tails.  i can only manage to speak in monosyllable grunts.  this post may seem to ramble and lack cohesiveness, but that’s what happens when i spend hours typing numbers into a spreasheet (yeah, see if i ever volunteer to help out again!).

the brit and i went to a birthday party on saturday.  it was out in the burbs – WAAAY out  – like end-of-the-train-line/by the airport.  i was so crabby because the train smelled like feet and i was hungry.  as we walked up to the house, all we could hear was screaming children.  oh great. this party had more kids than adults (which is great news for someone who is uncomfortable around children).  plus, the brit and i were the only ones there who didn’t have children or pregnant.  i held a drink in each hand so that i couldn’t hold any babies (i swear they were passing around the babies like people pass around a platter of dip).  i just wanted to hide in the bouncy castle and get wasted.  thank goodness the brit had enough after two hours and we politely wished the host and hostess a happy birthday and made our way back to civilisation.  we were home by eight.  we are party animals.

my manager keeps telling me about how they’re renewing my work visa for another four years (of servitude) which is an impetus for me to get off my lazy arse and start filling out my paperwork for my permanent residency.  i wll go crazy if i’m stuck in this job for another four years.  have i told you how much i hate paperwork?  i told the brit that i want to hire an immigration attorney to do it all for me because i am that lazy.  i’ve downloaded the forms about five times already.  i bring them home, and they sit on the table until eventually i have to bin them because i spilled something on them…or the Brit tore off a corner to write out his shopping list.  but soon, i’ll get around to it.

so now it’s time for me to go.  i’ve got my dickens book and immigration forms packed in my bag.  i will try to make more sense tomorrow

3 years in australia.

well, today is my official three year anniversary in australia.  the time has passed quickly,  i can’t believe it (especially because i still feel like a newbie).

i have been somewhat resistent to the idea of “settling in” here or forming roots.  in the back of my mind, i’m always thinking about when we move back to london, or america or wherever the wind takes us next.  that being said,  it doesn’t mean that i haven’t embraced melbourne and all its loveliness.  i actually refuse to leave australia until people from home visit.  do you hear me people?  come visit.

life lessons.

drinking 4 glasses of wine in the space of one hour  after only having a piece of cheese all day is not a good idea.

having a martini of some sort after having said glasses of wine…definitely not a good idea.

when husband says to you the next morning “you were really funny last night” but you don’t remember,  probably shouldn’t have had that martini.

anything from mcdonald’s will help (the greasier the better).

the best remedy is to leave work early.

have a good weekend!
x

being social.

During my friday work avoidance exercise,  i read an article on tips for making good conversation with a stranger.  i was taught to never talk to strangers but when i replace the word “stranger” with “people who i don’t like,” (“PIDL”),  it all of a sudden becomes relevant.  did i find it of any use?  let’s see shall we? here’s a recap of the article

“comment on a topic common to both of you”
suggestions are the food, the room, the occasion…  that’s just small talk and i loathe small talk.  it’s pointless.  it also says “unless you can be hilariously funny, the first time…isn’t a good time to complain.”  ummm, oops.  guess i break that rule all the time.  this is how my conversation would work:
me: did you try the canapés yet?
PIDL: no
me: they’re awful. i’d avoid them.
PIDL: okay
awkward silence

“comment on a topic of general interest.”  current events it says. (i get my news from the daily show and colbert report…and i read a lot of trashy celebrity magazines)
me: do you watch american idol?
PIDL: no
me: did you hear the rumours abour brad and jennifer?
PIDL: who?
me: forget it.
awkward silence

“Ask open questions that can’t be answered in a single word. ”   example question provided: “what’s keeping you busy these days?”
me: so what’s keeping you busy these days
PIDL: work
me: i see
awkward silence

“ask a followup question”
me: so what’s keeping you busy these days?
PIDL: work
me: i see.  do you like it?
PIDL: no
awkward silence

“ask getting to know you questions” 
me: do you like to read?
PIDL: read what?
me: books
PIDL: no
awkward silence

“react to what a person says in the spirit in which that comment was offered”  in other words, fake laugh, fake surprise, fake [insert appropriate emotion here]
PIDL:  … get it?
me: get what?  was it a joke?
PIDL:  um, yeah
me: oh yeah, i get it now.  ha ha ha.
awkward silence.

so, i know a lot of you are thinking that the conversation will not always go that way, that they may actually like to read or watch american idol, or share in my love for celebrity trash, or actually tell a good joke once in a while,  but there is a reason why they fall into the category of people i don’t like (and should therefore not talk to).  one of my biggest pet peeves is conversations that are a huge effort.  i can’t be bothered to waste the energy.  you know? 

turdsday

one more day til friday. i’m so ready for the weekend.

i tried opening another banana today.  better results using dull scissors but the top half got all mushy and deformed.  monkeys open them from the bottom and they can probably use their toes to do it too.  that’s why monkeys are more coordinated than i am.  the next time someone says to me “it’s so easy, even a monkey could do it!” i’m going to have to correct them.  it doesn’t necessarily mean that i’ll be able to do it.  chances are, i won’t. 

last night,  i had the following conversation with the Brit (btw, this is the closest to a fight we’ll ever get):
me:  i’ve come to grips with the fact that i’m a bitch.  oh, and monkeys are way smarter than i am.
Brit:  agree with you on the monkeys.  so, you’re finally taking ownership of you bitchiness?
me:  what do you mean finally??  do you think i’m a bitch?
Brit: why do you think you’re a bitch?
me:  why do you think i’m a bitch?
Brit:  why do you think you’re a bitch?
me:  no wait! why do you think i’m a bitch?  am i one?
Brit:  you just said you were.
me:  oh yeah.  would you trade me in for a monkey?
Brit:  if it were less bitchy maybe
so anyway,  yesterday at work,  i was vomiting out sarcastic comments to anyone that would come near me – it was just one of those days for me.  and “vomit” is the appropriate word because i couldn’t stop myself if i tried.  it seems that i lack some sort of filter in my brain and i just say whatever comes to mind – and most of it is laced with sarcasm.  everyone i work with is generally really nice and man, do they love to talk.  i hate talking.  especially when i’m busy.  especially when they are talking without purpose or meaning.  one of my co-workers asked if i was on the rag because i was” kind of bitchy today”.  kind of?  today?  i’m like this all the time therefore  i must be bitchy all the time hence i am a bitch.  but i don’t care really because that’s who i am and i’ve been like this for 33 years.  they still want to talk to me, even if it means they spend the day wondering if i was serious or joking.

i also realised that i’m a conformist all the while thinking that i’m one of those “outside the box” sort of people.  not.  i am a rule follower. 

 i follow microwave directions to a tee and i stress out when the Brit doesn’t pay attention (“but it says to put it on the middle rack and it’s not!!!”).  i follow the lines in the street (which drives the Brit nuts).  refer to figure 1 below.

fig. 1: crossing the street

the Brit and are at point A and need to get to point B.  for some reason the Brit is always on my right side too.  as soon as it’s time to cross,  i follow the diagonal cross walk lines while the Brit recklessly walks in a straight line (i don’t care if it the shortest path!).  i eventually start walking into him, diverting him from his straigh line. sometimes he’ll remember to stand on my left side.  other times he’ll  grab hold of my shoulders and steer me in a straight line (all the while i’m like “but…” and pointing at the white lines).

and you better believe that when i see this sign:

i am holding on to the handrail.  when i see small children not using the handrail or holding someone else’s hand (who is then holding on to the handrail), i get nervous.  don’t these people know what could happen?

and when my cup of soup says “let stand for one minute after heating” you bet your bottom dollar i’m going to wait one minute before eating it.

there are things i’m a bit more lax on – i’ll cross the street even when the green man isn’t flashing,  i’ll put my comingled rubbish in the landfill rubbish bin, i’ll leave my clay mask on for an extra 2 minutes , hell, i even put a ream of paper on the bit in the printer tray where it says “do not put paper in this area.”   look out!  i’m on a rule-breaking rampage.

the Brit is so blasé about stuff like that so it’s good that he’s around to calm me down (though i secretly rearrange the french fries on the baking tray to a single layer per the directions on the bag when he’s not looking).

quick one before i go.

two things i’ve been thinking about today that i will explain futher tomorrow.

monkeys are more coordinated than i am.

i’m a bitch and okay with it.

humpity hump day.

love wednesdays so much more than tuesdays.  it’s been busy today which is nice because it makes the day go by quickly but it means i didn’t have a chance to work on that lovely wedding invite.  i started drawing some filigree to cover the front of the invite with to draw attention away from the pixelated image of the lingerie model.  seriously,  it looks like a “cops “episode when they blur out people’s faces.  i decided to go for an art nouveau theme because that’s what the picture (when in focus) reminds me of but i realise that it can start to look a bit lord-of-the-ringsy.  perhaps i’ll incorporate some orcs but no time today.  hopefully tomorrow.  i’ve decided to do two versions – one that i can be proud of and one that she can say she designed all on her own.  i know i’m setting myself up for disappointment here.  i do it all the time for stuff i design for work.  they always get two options and they always go for the ugly one with the truck on it that i threw together in 5 minutes (i’m often told that my style is a bit too avant garde but the problem is lack of taste on their part).  i don’t see how it’s going to be any different this time.  instead, i spent the day designing/revamping a PowerPoint presentation.  word art is so naff.  i showed some of them how to use a drop shadow and now they use it on EVERYTHING.  they also like beveled edges and bright colours that don’t necessarily go together, and pie charts with 40 segments in them that have to be different colours and cartoon clipart…  it looks straight out of the 80’s so i knew i had a lot of work ahead of me.  philistines.  right, i’m done venting now.  moving on.

so, i’m trying to work out properly for once  using my target heart rate as my guide.  i’ve calculated it,  and i did it the proper way too by averaging out my resting heartbeat over three mornings, etc but it totally doesn’t feel right.  i feel like it should be more.  i mean, i still got sweaty but i don’t feel like i am working.  so yesterday i jacked up my target heartrate on my elliptical to something like 187 and i thought i was going to die but at the same time,  i thought “yeah, this is more like it.”  i’ve always appreciated workouts more when i’m on the edge of vomiting at the end.  am i don’t something wrong?  remember,  i also calculated that i needed to buy a 40lb turkey for thanksgiving so my math is not to be trusted. 

time to go home.  the Brit is working late tonight which means i’ll have cereal or chips (or both) for dinner and crap television.  i will work out with a lower target heart rate today because he won’t be around to revive me if i have cardiac arrest. ’til tomorrow my lovelies.

x