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

monday.

hey, mondays aren’t so bad when you don’t have to work.  i actually wasn’t planning on posting today, but in a burst of productivity, i thought i’d give it a go.  i started off by cleaning my closet which is a daunting task.  i thought i would find the one red shoe that has been MIA for the past week but no luck.  feeling discouraged,  i decided to take the next logical step – blog about it.  i bought the shoes months ago when we went to america and they have never been worn.  now, i finally want to wear them and i can’t find one.  isn’t that how it always is?

it is well and truly winter here i’m afraid.  the sky is grey and angry.  people are in their winter coats, huddled up in layers of scarves and hats,  their breath visible as they hurriedly walk down the street,  all the while muttering that they can’t believe summer is gone…

…oh, i got a bit literary there for a moment.  i’ve been reading a lot of charles dickens lately.  i wish i could write like him.  anyway, back to the closet.

closet is clean.  there, that’s all i wanted to say about that.  i planned on doing n-o-t-h-i-n-g for the day, but when i rang the Brit up at work to see how his day was going, he seemed surprised that i hadn’t moved from my position on the couch which is where he left me this morning.  feeling suddenly guilty,  i brushed the cookie crumbs off my lap, put my book away and went downstairs to clean my closet.  i envisioned the Brit being rather pleasantly surprised that i had accomplished something today and perhaps giving me a prize for being so good. 

the weekend was good except for one hiccup.  every friday,  the Brit and I order Indian food to be delivered for dinner.  the Brit forgot to order my tandoori chicken.  i threw a fit.  i mean, i threw a fit.  it was pretty major and psycho and a culmination of a bad week and being extremely homesick and having no friends but man, i lost it.  and again, as always,  the “sane” me is watching the psycho me freak out.  i’m trying to tell myself to shut the f*ck up and stop being so girlie and mean, but i can’t listen to reason.  the rant went on for about 15 minutes and then i was feeling rather foolish. during my rant,  i managed to call the indian restaurant to order my chicken,  all sniffly and pathetic.  the guy on the other end of the phone asked me if iwanted a full or half order and i said full.  when it arrived,  he apparently thought i said “four” and we ended up with four chickens.  the Brit wondered why it cost $70. so then i got all sniffly again and said that the Brit was going to make me eat it all as punishment for being psycho but he’s too nice to do that.  in the end, i only had one piece of chicken.  i’m such crap. i’m so not normal.  how the Brit puts up with me, i will never know. we talked about my “outburst” for the rest of the night and me being homesick so by the end i was laughing and feeling better and not so stupid. i’ve taken a week and a half off from working out. when i don’t work out i get depressed and stupid but i’m having a hard time finding the motivation to start up again.  i hope my Bloggy Twin is still at it every morning,  you are my inspiration.

the rest of the weekend was brilliant. we had fancy dinner on saturday which was fantastic and then we went shopping on sunday. i got two new games for my nintendo and i got a fur deer-stalker hat for the winter.  i love it (for those of you that don’t know,  beside shoes, i’m a hat fiend).  i’ve been looking for one for ages and finally came across one at the army surplus shop.  when i put the earflaps down, i can barely hear people talking around me.  i may have to wear it while i work. 

saturday was ANZAC day in australia which is a public holiday.  it celebrates the battle of Gallipoli from WWI…which is a bit odd because the allies lost that battle but you know,  i’m sure there’s more to it than that.  to be honest, i’m not too interested in holidays unless gift-giving is involved.  in honour of ANZAC day, the kiwi made anzac cookies.  yum.  i had five i think.  i was feeling extra australian (and piggy).

i’m back at work tomorrow but i feel well-rested and relaxed about it.  a feeling that will surely dissipate the moment i walk into the lift but such is life.  time for me to go.  the Brit will be home soon and i’m dying to tell him what happened on Judge Judy today.  ha!

the weekend to end all weekends.

it hasn’t happened yet this year but i thought it was an interesting title to catch your attention.  what do you think? 

the brit and i went to wedding on saturday and it was lovely.  made us want to get married all over again (awww!).  standing on 4 inch heels for nine hours made my feet swell something fierce.  as we were walking home,  i was thinking about throwing myself on the ground and crying until the brit carried me…but he would have left me there and carried on without me (he would’ve left me his suit jacket so i wouldn’t get cold).  the wedding reminded me why i shouldn’t mix alcohol (started with vodka,  had lots of champagne in between and ended with both red and white wine – oy vay!) because i was feeling really bad on sunday.  i was too lazy to even look like i wanted to help with the chores.  all i could do was lay on the couch, watch television and feel sorry for myself.

woe is me.

show and tell.

i have a few pictures from our holiday with some narky commentary from yours truly.  there’s more to come.

wallaby saying “feed me please.”  The Brit was too busy feeding the wombat on the other side. i gave the Brit a similar look but i was saying “please carry my suitcase.”  it’s quite an effective look if you can master it.  i use it to say various things like “i need attention”  “i need new shoes” “tell me i’m pretty”

 

 

 

 

this wombat was HUGE.  the Brit dumped his whole entire bag of food in front of him to chow on.  no wonder he’s such a fatty (the wombat, not the Brit).  he was unfortunately a bit too big to fit into my suitcase.

 

 

 

 

tasmanian devil.  we obviously weren’t allowed to feed him by hand. 

 

 

 

 

a sign from the koala conservtation centre.  “don’t hump the fence”

 

 

 

 

me and the wombat.  wombat obviously more interested in the food.  (notice the lonely little wallaby in the background…still begging for food from anyone)

 

 

 

it was actually hard to catch koalas awake.  they spend 22 hours a day sleeping.  that should be  my life.

 

 

 

feeding kangaroos. look at the baby!

 

 

 

 

 

 me and Brit.  awww. happy anniversary.

 

 

 

 

There you have it.  another year of marriage done and dusted.

tag! i’m it.

My twin has passed this WHY I Love Hubby award on to me so now it’s my turn to wax lyrical about the Brit.  I reserve the right to go back and change this post once the Brit’s new vacuum has surpassed me for the number one spot.

there are so many reasons and it’s not why i love the Brit so much but it’s more like how can i not love the Brit?  he’s so good and i’m so crap most of the time but yet he still adores me.  how can that be? (and i can be REALLY crap sometimes).

he pretty much gets me anything i want – esp. when i’m grouchy. 
he cooks me breakfast every weekend.
when we go out, he always packs snacks for when i get hungry and grouchy.  it shuts me up until we find a place to eat.
i spend loads of money and shoes, clothes and bags and he doesn’t say a word.  he actually encourages it.
he humours me when i’m being bitchy and pms-y.
he makes me feel like a princess even when i don’t deserve it.
he eats soy ice cream because i can’t have normal ice cream during lent.

i don’t know what to call it, mainly because i can’t get my head around the enormity of it.  unconditional love, respect, understanding.  words i can use to describe it but it doesn’t even come close.  whatever it is,  i feel it every day and i know he does too.  it is ingrained in everything that we do and say.

and i can go on… but being all mushy like this isn’t my style.  eww.  it makes me feel all weird, especially on a monday morning when thoughts of getting stuck in the elevator with the man on my floor who wears too much Old Spice and talks too much is more appealing than work.  as i type this,  i see a little email from the Brit pop up in the corner of my screen that says “i love you. you make me smile.”  how sweet is that?  and i email him first thing in the morning with things like “did you pay the rent?” “did you call the repairman?”  “can you order this dress for me?  link attached”  see how crap i am?  he makes me want to be better and that says a lot because i think i’m the best.