monday musings.

i feel really washed out today.  my sinuses were horrible yesterday for some reason so i spent the entire day sneezing and blowing my nose.  i had to sleep sitting up or else i couldn’t breathe.  it sucked.  i choked back two nasty cups of lemsip (that’s like theraflu for you americans) and that seemed to help.  can’t tell the brit that the lemsip helped.  every time i have a sniffle,  he insists i drink it.  he loves the stuff.  he’d drink it like  a cup of tea even if he weren’t sick.  i think it’s nasty and smells like lemon furniture polish so i refuse to drink it but i begrudgingly admit that it works.  another “cure” that the Brit had was to not blow my nose and let it run.  he’s reading I Claudius right now and that was one of the things that Claudius’ greek doctors recommended.  like i’m going to take the advice of ancient romans that ate peacock tongues and married their sisters… okay, i admit i tried it for ten minutes.  i was desparate.  it didn’t work.

i am feeling much better today but my nose is sore and i’m really sleepy.  i stayed up until 3am drinking lemsip, trying to breathe and watching Judge Judy and Jerry Springer.  i just want the day to end. 

so here’s a rundown of the weekend.

friday night
the Brit had leaving drinks for someone at work so i had the night to myself.  i bought myself a bottle of wine and finished about 3/4 of it by the time the Brit got home at 10pm.  i also watched two Ms Marple movies and ate cereal for dinner with my wine (mind you, it’s friday night) thus cementing my title for “lamest person ever” (until the Brit does something to take away my title.  please read on, i’m sure it’ll happen).

saturday
the weather sucked.  we had tickets to see Phedre at the cinema.  the Brit was really looking forward to it and i was  getting grouchy just thinking about walking in the wind/rain.  to curb my grouchiness,  the Brit turned on the next episode of “house of elliot” (i am a sucker for costume dramas) and i forgot all about being bratty for an hour.  i spent 45 minutes trying to figure out which of my pajamas looked the least like pajamas but then realised it didn’t really matter since i’d be wearing a coat and the theatre would be dark anyway.  then i had thoughts of Lifetime/Hallmark movies i watched on my days off where the housewife doesn’t care how she looks anymore so her husband ends up sleeping with the super hot babysitter.  not like it’ll ever happen (the kids, the babysitter or the brit cheating) but it went through my head so i put on a pair of jeans.  i wore slippers.

Phedre was really good.  i quite liked it.  i read it in French when i was in school so it was nice to hear it done in english.  people were randomly laughing at times when nothing funny was happening which i found a bit annoying.  the dude sitting across the aisle from me fell asleep and he was snoring through most of it and people kept fiddling with noisy wrappers.  it was like the typical opera crowd.

that night we watched Moliere (because we were feeling so french).  i read the misanthrope and tartuffe in school… but have no idea what they are about because i had to read them in french.  the movie offered no insights but it was still good. 

the Brit also spent about a gazillion hours trying to catch a chicken-like creature on his video game (or at least it seemed like a gazillion hours).  he has now hooked up the Gamecube to our TV but is obsessed with getting the same picture as with the Wii so he ordered a special cable from Japan.  he is now the lamest person ever.  my reign was short lived,  but it always is with the Brit around.

sunday
in between sneezing and coughing,  we watched the worst keanu reeve’s movie ever.  i can’t even remember what it’s called.  he played a corrupt cop who makes good.  so bad.  he’s not cut out for speaking roles.  he will always be ted (or was he bill?).  “i am a cop, dude.”  doesn’t work for me.

…

and now it’s monday.  i’m wearing a skirt that i realise now, after sitting in it for 6 hours,  is probably a bit too tight.  i asked the Brit if it made me look like an overstuffed sausage and he said no.  but i feel like an overstuffed sausage so now i wonder if the Brit even looked up from his Excel book this morning to look at me.  i have a hole in the toe of my pantyhose and it’s cutting off the circulation of the one toe that has managed to bust through it.  i tried to fix it during a meeting but wearing a too-tight skirt didn’t help.  i was wriggling around trying to use my other foot to fix it and i almost slid off the seat.  and then i kicked my shoe to the other side of the table and couldn’t reach it without completely submerging myself under the table so i had to wait until the meeting was over,  pretend to shuffle my papers about as people started leaving the room and then crawl under the table to grab my shoe (and crawling in this skirt is no easy feat).  i bumped my head.  a great start to the week. 

long day.

book covers done. not yet approved… so i guess i couldn’t do it in an hour but i did manage to knock up two options.  now i have to wait around and see what they really want.  they’ll probably want something completely different.

the Brit thinks he has solutions to my walking/clumsiness problems. this morning,  as i walked into a doorway,  the Brit laughed at me and looked at me like i was one of those special needs kids they hold telethons for.  a bit later,  i walked upstairs (tripped on a step on my way) and sat down to have my coffee. 
Brit:  You should wear knee pads and a helmet so you don’t kill yourself climbing up those stairs
Me: very funny.
Brit:  why is your left eye all red
Me:  because i poked it with my finger
Brit:  i’m going to get you little baby mitts for your hands so you can’t hurt yourself.  Where’d you get that bruise from?
Me:  i walked into the door handle. 
Brit:  maybe there’s a magic serum you can drink that’ll make you grow cat whiskers.  maybe they’ll help you balance yourself and you won’t walk into things.  you can wear a little catsuit too. 
Me:  it’d look really good with knee pads, helmet and mittens.
Brit: but at least you’d be safe! 

he’s such a help isn’t he?  if it were up to him,  i’d look like a mutant.

enough already.

it’s only wednesday…  ugh.

was the big announcement yesterday at 5pm life shattering?  no.
was it important?  no.
the announcement?  we won new business.
does that mean we get raises?  no.
so…do i care?  emphatic NO.
did my boss bring me donuts? no.

it’s been a wonderful week so far.  on a positive note, i’ve been such a grouch at work that i have co-workers buying me lunch to sweeten me up.  makes me thnk that coming into work grouchy is the way to go from now on.

Project Runway Australia starts tonight and while i hated last season (because nothing will EVER compare to the American version, right?) i have set the DVR to record it every week.  there’s a trailer for it that lasts about 15 minutes that they’ve been showing for the past week.  it looks ghastly but i love crap TV.  i made the Brit watch a Mrs Marple movie with me the other day.  I thought he would enjoy it simply because it was British but bad TV is bad TV no matter where it comes from and he couldn’t help but laugh the whole way through and make narky commentary. 

The Brit can laugh at me all he wants for watching old people shows on TV but i caught him washing a paper plate the other day and that’ll give me weeks of “you’re weirder than me” mileage.  The Kiwi baked eclairs and brought some over on a paper plate (mind you this is a paper plate, not one of those disposable plastic plates).  the next thing i know, i see the Brit scrubbing the chocolate off of it and running it under the tap to return to the Kiwi.  WEIRDO.

crap. boss back from meeting.  gotta look busy.

mondays suck and other revelations.

someone actually said to me this morning “hmm, looks like someone has the case of the mondays!”  i wanted to sock them in the face (and possibly get sent home for bad behaviour).  yeah i’m grouchy.  back to work.  back to working out every day after a nice weekend of relaxing and binge drinking and eating. 

on saturday we saw Avenue Q which was really good.  even the Brit liked it.  there was a woman who was sitting directly behind us with the loudest, most annoying laugh ever.  and she laughed at everything – even if it wasn’t funny,  even if no one else was laughing.  i’m surprised her boyfriend didn’t shove something in her mouth to shut her up – the Brit would’ve done that to me (if he couldn’t switch seats).  when we were walking out of the theatre,  we bumped into the kiwi and some other friends and we headed to the supper club for a “couple” drinks – which turned into a few vodkas, a brandy alexander, two glasses of port and a glass of wine for me.  i couldn’t feel my tongue by the time i had the glass of wine.  a good sign that i was well drunk. 

needless to say,  sunday was a lazy day of recovery.  i woke up craving a bacon sandwich and the Brit delivered…and took care of me for the rest of the day.  i married well.  the Brit must’ve been feeling rough too because he decided to take it easy by only cleaning the oven and doing only one load of laundry.  the man is a housework machine, i tell you.  i also spent part of the day watching the Brit play his new video game.  for one section of the game, you get a bonus if you complete the level in under 18 minutes.  wanna know how long it took him to finish it?  82 minutes.  he’s very thorough.  i think he’ll be on this for a while.

time for home.  thank goodness.  ’til tomorrow.

x

spooning.

i was watching a really cheesy chick flick the other night and there was the “next morning” scene.  you know, the one where the couple wakes up still in spoon position,  holding each other,  looking so comfortable.  p-lease. 

spooning before you both fall asleep is all good.  but once one or both of you fall asleep,  it all just goes to hell. 

if you’re in the spoonee position and the spooner falls asleep before you,  they become dead weight,  breathing (and maybe snoring) in close proximity to your ears.  and let’s face it, it gets hot.  i hate being hot while i sleep.  being the spoonee also can leave you at a disadvantage for bed space if spooning is done on your side of the bed.  once the spooner falls asleep, good luck trying to roll him back to his side.

the spooner position,  while having the advantage of not having to endure snoring and hot breath near one’s ears or neck,  it’s still pretty uncomfortable.  when i’m laying on my side,  i never know what to do with the arm i’m laying on…it all of a sudden becomes a spare appendage that has no use and gets in the way and at some point, after being the spoonee for too long,  my arm gets numb and feels like a Gumby arm. 

i’m all for spooning before falling asleep, but as soon as one of us starts to drop off,  it’s time to move to your own side of the bed.  not very romantic,  but hey,  them are the rules.

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

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).

weekend roundup.

friday
i dorpped my dress off to be taken up last week and now i’m freaking out a bit.  it’s silk and very delicate and i wonder if it’ll be okay.  the man who took the measurements was sweating profusely and didn’t speak great english.  when i told the Brit where I took it, he said “really!?” in the sort of way that makes me worry.  i went to a proper dressmaker and they wanted to charge me $150 and take three weeks to do it.  and there’s no way i’m taking it to the man that shortens his trousers. his shop is in a dingy laneway next to a mattress store in the city.  his shop is the size of a postage stamp, the walls are yellow (from old age) and there’s a tatty picture of george foreman above his sewing machine.  the guy is about ninety and is the grouchiest man ever.  the Brit reckons that he had to leave his wife and babies behind during the Blitz so that’s why he’s grouchy.  i think he hates people and doesn’t have time for them which makes me kind of like him but i still fear him enough to avoid him.  when i pick up my dress,  i hope the Brit doesn’t say “i told you so!”

I also wandered in the city looking for the art supply store.  good thing the city is tiny so it was only 15 minutes of hopeless meandering. ended up going to the store by our house and when i got home, i realised that i bought the wrong shades for the skin tones.  i thought i could fix the situation by mixing colours but it’s still not right.  i stepped back to have a better look and realised her eyes are a bit lopsided.  bugger!  the brit can’t think of anything nice to say so he doesn’t anything at all (his momma raised him right!).

saturday
the Brit finishes his game! that’s all the excitement we can handle in one day.

sunday
psycho lady makes a brief appearance. the Brit is unfazed (probably used to it by now) and tells me to start exercising or else i won’t receive any affection.  exercise, discipline, then affection.  i can’t believe he’s applying the Dog Whisperer to my depression.  i’ve blamed everything from being homesick to not being able to get rid of the little black mites on steve’s (the plant) leaves.  yeah, sounding a bit crazy, eh? we both know the answer is because i’ve taken off the last wee while from working out.  exercise is the only thing that balances me out.  the Brit talked about the chihuahua on the Dog Whisperer that just needed exercise to sort out it’s crazy behaviour.  i should have been insulted that he’s comparing me to a yappy dog with bug eyes, but i know he’s right.  exercise every day for me starting now (i mean starting tomorrow).

later, i’m craving somthing sweet.  i try puppy dog eyes on the Brit to see if he’ll stop what he’s doing and attend to my needs. he’s on the verge of offering to do just that when i start to feel guilty (yeah, seriously, what’s up with that?!) and tell him i’ll just make something.  i end up making scones topped with fresh blueberries and whipped cream which i lovingly whipped by hand.  i eat two and decide that i’ll work it off on monday when i get my new toy.

monday
on my own. cannot leave the house because i cannot be trusted so i need to entertain myself somehow.  elliptical guy coming at 11 so i scramble an egg and change from pajamas to quasi-pajamas (yoga pants and a t-shirt which i often wear as pajamas).  good god, the new elliptical machine is huge! thank goodness i had the sense to pay extra to have it assembled for me.  i’d be trying to tighten bolts with a coin or with a butter knife – and i’d end up with extra screws at the end which is always disconcerting.  he was done assembling it before my episode of “murder she wrote” was over.  that’s quick! it’s brilliant.  i spent 45 minutes on it and loved it so much that i went another half hour later that day.

i mixed a new paint colour and painted over the face of my painting and decided to start her face over.  the paint is now a foot thick on the canvas.  if i were picasso, i’d be able to get away with lopsided eyes and greyish pink skin

when the brit gets home from work i announce (again) that i shouldn’t have to work (ever)

today
good grief, it’s tough getting up in the morning when you know you have to work (i woke up the same time on the days i was off so i could have coffee with the Brit before he left…mew).  the Brit tells me the shower is free. I get up and lie down on the floor in the room next to the bathroom.  the Brit steps over me and tells me that he is going to make me coffee now. 

Work is incredibly quiet today making me question my need to be here.  i should’ve taken a sick day.

friday (kind of)

friday for me because i have tomorrow off and monday!  yay for long weekends. 

it’s been so busy at work today, a million thoughts are racing through my head and coming out in fragments.  so today’s happenings will be dot points (i should’ve prepared a nice PowerPoint presentation to go with it).  my thoughts may be more coherent tomorrow.

• tried my new dress on last night. obviously designed for flat chested girls.  made mental note not to dance or move vigourously about.  also have to put the Brit on boob watch for any that may pop out (a task he gladly accepted)
• the Brit has 80+ hours logged to his video game now.  he killed the dragon yesterday though.  he says he feels like he’s on a roll – to where, i have no idea.
• am afraid our trip to america in july and my inability to save money will put us in the poorhouse.  the Brit had to talk me down from a ledge last night and assure me that i will not need to adjust my shopping habits.
• i want a donut
• after a couple days of massive worry,  i finally was able to do the “i’m not pregnant” dance (too much information? i don’t care, ya’ll know what i’m talking about)
• i shook my fist at a kid who almost ran me down with his skateboard.  how old am i?
• my new elliptical machine gets delivered on monday.  no more excuses.
• i’m wearing my burberry plaid shoes which match  my burberry bag exactly.  i feel like a tool.  i didn’t realise the matchiness until i left the house.
• i found $2 outside my office today.  i felt like i won the lottery.
• i have the day off tomorrow!  i am so cool.