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).

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again I LOVE DAYS OFF.  even though i spent 45 minutes in the office this morning doing admin crap,  the sun was shining and the weather was brilliant and i was happy to just wander the streets.  i bought the Brit a new Wii game. the nerd at the shop said this one has about 40 hours of gameplay.  i need to multiply that by two and that will be the Brit’s playing time. i bought a DS game for me even though i said i wouldn’t (i think we all know i have no willpower).  i decided to commit to finishing my books – i have two on the go at the moment, “bleak house” by charles dickens and “middle march” by george eliot.  the Brit got me David Attenborough’s autobiography for xmas and i’m dying to get stuck into that one. but i need to finish one of the others first.  reading three books at once is too much for my wee brain to process.

speaking of brain cells,  i’m quite certain that i killed off a few on saturday night.  that was the night of the charity ball.  i was right, i had a lovely time.  i spent the whole of the evening pulling my dress up but there were no exposed parts (even when i was waaaaay tipsy) so the night was a success.  we had tons and tons of champagne.  at one point., there was nothing but empty champagne bottles at our table.  champagne gets me drunk very quickly and the hangover is wicked. 

i woke up the next morning with makeup smeared on my face,  most of my false eyelashes stuck to my pillow,  a vicious headache and incredible nausea.   i thought i was going to die and vowed never to drink again (until the next time).  even the Brit was feeling a bit rough and he hardly ever wakes up hungover.  we spent the entire day on the couch,  eating bacon sandwiches,  drinking lots of water and watching TV.  the Kiwi made some  anzac biscuits and dropped them off.  by then i was feeling better and almost ate them all.  it was a great weekend.

so now it’s monday and i’m left alone to entertain to myself.  i should be reading my books but instead i’m blogging and then i’m going to watch some girly movies.  i took the tram home from the city today and noticed the guy sitting across from me with a really long pinky nail.  what’s up with that?  the rest of his nails were trimmed and normal.  it was just one pinky nail that was super long.  i was mesmerised by it.  he got off at the next stop.  i don’t think it was really his stop.  i think he was frightened by the way i was fixated on it.  i wanted to ask him what the deal was with it.  and how he gets it to grow so long.  my nails break all the time.  then i thought  maybe he uses it to scratch annoying people’s eyeballs so i thought it best to shut up…and stare.

for breakfast this morning, i skipped the banana and had a banana muffin instead.  i thought i’d eat my bananas already killed and mashed.  take that banana! 

i don’t know what it is, but i’ve had a lot of trouble opening bananas lately.  i can’t seem to rip the top part to start peeling it.  i’ve had to use scissors but someone has stolen my scissors from my desk (i wonder if they noticed the banana mung all over it).  i have stabbed the top of my banana with a letter opener but the banana being extra ripe, and me being extra crap,  managed to squirt banana puree all over my desk.  i got banana in my hair.  i have a streak of banana puree on my shirt.  i officially declare war on bananas.