Blogging While Intoxicated–Don’t Do It Kids

Friday night – September 30th 2011 – there is a Gnome in my head


I always say, “People, even if you may think it is the awesomest © of all awesome ideas, do not blog while under the influence of narcotics or alcohol!” and I totally stand by that 100%, even though I don’t really always say that, in fact I’ve maybe only said that twice before and both times I TOTALLY lied. 

Like now.  Because…I’m doing it anyway.  And I have faith in my “blogging while a touch smashed” abilities, thank you very much.

Hi!  Several strong gin and tonics and some fizzy white wine and I feel a little like someone disconnected my tongue and my toes and maybe my fingers a little bit and they’re all now working independently of each other, in some sort of global conspiracy against the rest of me and it’s a big old MAYHEM of chaos right here, right now.  But that’s okay.  I’m entirely on top of matters.  Entirely.

Besides.  What’s a little intoxication among friends?  Huh?  Nothing, that’s what.  Even though I’ve already corrected about 529 typos, I persevere.  Because I can do this.  I can do THIS.  And if I gave up now what sort of message does that send?  That I’m a quitter?  That I have perhaps drunk myself blind?  That I really need to pee?  NO!

So yes, it’s true I’m a little drunk.  I have the distinct feeling if you pinched my cheeks really hard right now I wouldn’t even feel it.  My face cheeks that is, not my bum cheeks.  I’d feel my bum cheeks, if you pinched those.  That hurts, damn it, I don’t give a fuck how inebriated you might be. 

I can also taste garlic in quantities probably only legal in NASA experiments.  Oh boy.  Ick. 

Is this the wrong time to tell you how sexy you are all looking this evening?  Because you do.  I would absolutely feel you up in the cab on the way home!

Smooches!

Zehn…

Wednesday, September 28th, 2011 – Indian summer happening, blisters, demons, french fried potaters, mmhmm.
Ten random, not very interesting thoughts to share with the world:

1) Setting the treadmill on the big, “fuck-off incline” setting (I may be paraphrasing) when the weather is over 20 degrees C. out, is not conducive to preserving my delicate calm (thanks a BUNCH Cora for making me feel inferior enough to do it!)   Did you even KNOW that ears can sweat?  Me either!  On the upside it’s a great time to invent some new swearwords.

2) Fun with autocorrect.  My phone uses Swype which I love.  It’s truly awesome and every lazy texter’s dream.  However it keeps making me text people utter nonsense, particularly if you've partaken in a few beverages and aren’t paying proper attention.  For example, swearing loses its effect when you type things like, “Jesus Chrissy!”  Or I’m trying to snarkily call someone a “cocksmoker” but it keeps turning it into “childminder”. You lose your swear impact slightly when you say, “I hate that guy, he’s a total CHILDMINDER!” 

3) There is no better pizza than a supermarket-bought, stuffed crust, four cheese pizza topped at home with an added ton of smooshed garlic, chopped up veggie hotdogs, onions and sundried tomatoes.  NONE!  Try it.  You’ll be kissing my feet with gratitude.  Extra hint: seasoned potato wedges to accompany.  Oh yes!  You WILL swoon.

4) If you like red wine, please do try my favourite, “Banrock Station Reserve”, from southern Australia.  I love the stuff.  DELICIOUS.  Their regular wine is great too but the reserve is just beautiful.  It goes on sale for half price fairly regularly here and that’s when I pick it up!  No they’re not paying me.  Jesus Chrissy, I wish they would!

5) A great song to play while driving if you want to remain calm and unflustered by plebians, is Warren Zevon’s “The Hula Hula Boys”.  For no reason other than it’s relaxing and easy to sing along to in a silly voice.  I can’t find the recorded version for you so that’s a live one. 

6) While it would be nice if my reading glasses made me look like a hot librarian, they make me look more like a bedraggled halfwit at a physics fair.

7) I’ve been doing some research on E numbers and food additives and preservatives and it’s making me never want to eat or drink again.  That is some scary shit, people.  Plus it’s started a war in my body.  I love food.  I am now scared of food.  What to do?

8) I have just finished playing my own fancy version of “Edelweiss” on the ukulele.  Worship me.

9) I’m finally almost caught up with “Fringe” after missing half the last season due to moving etc.  That show is preposterous.  But it’s GOOD preposterous.   It’s like “Lost” and “The X-Files” had a messy one night stand and “Fringe” was the result.

10) There’s nothing wrong with doing things on your own.  Movies, meals, walks.  It’s all good!  Solo power!

I think that covers it.

Where Random Should Be Criminal

Friday, September 23rd, 2011 – feels like Saturday, slightly hungover, hair like rabid woolly mammoth, there is not enough cheese

It’s cold.  Technically it’s really not cold, it’s 15 degrees Celsius, which means it’s really bordering mildly warm, unless you’re a total pussy, which I freely admit, I absolutely am.  But last night I slept in some big, thick, nasty-old, cosy sweat pants because clearly my body has already gone into some sort of winter nesting mode, where it craves warmth all the time.   All of which reared up to bite me squarely on the ass when I woke up SWEATING, blankets all over the place and my bum hanging attractively out of my sweats, because they’re too big, revealing an alarming plumber’s crack type situation, which I’m sure the window cleaner, who showed up at 7:30am this morning REALLY enjoyed.  Note to self: curtains are there for a reason.

So yes, hi!  I’m a touch hungover, I can’t lie.  Long vodkas and wine will do that to a person.  I get the distinct impression vodka and red wine are probably not the best of friends, judging by the atmosphere inside my head this morning and the fact I downed about a gallon of water before I even properly woke up.  And last night I was up watching bizarre movies and being social with alcohol and some friends, as none of us had to be at work today and well…if that’s not a recipe for being belligerent on a week night, I don’t know what is.

It’s come to my attention my hair is reaching Defcon 1 status in terms of looking like it belongs on some feral animal.  When I accidentally (on purpose) forget to brush it, it’s starting to look less loose beachy waves and more “I spent the last week sleeping in the forest” therefore, pretty soon serious measures will need to be taken.  But you all know my luck with salons by now.  It’s an oil and water sort of thing.  I’m terrified of them and they enjoy humiliating me.  I go in all hopeful, clutching fantastical ideas of what I’d like them to do and they nod and concur and placate me then I come out looking as though I asked them to, “make me look like Helena Bonham Carter after a lost weekend in Amsterdam”.  It’s just safer for me to take care of business on my own. 

I’m actually supposed to be doing some design stuff today but man, I don’t feel inclined.  Plus there’s a giant, treadmill-induced blister on the sole of my foot that needs some serious attention.  Ouch.  Send help.  Or cheese.

Mmmm, cheese…

RIP Summer

Monday, September 19th, 2011 – sunny, socks, coffee, dried cherries

Well, it seems that autumn has finally gotten its big, fat foot in the door and is taking up lodging.  The days are shortening, the nights are getting chilly and I’ve been frantically realizing I need to invest in some sweaters again before I wake up one morning and find I’ve turned into Jack Nicholson in “The Shining” when he freezes to death in that creepy assed maze. 

Only with a lot more hair and less psychotic tendencies.  Well, slightly less.  OK, that last one is debatable maybe.

I like autumn/fall a lot actually.  I like the blue skies, clear air and the chill.  I like the orange and red leaves and the creepy Halloween vibe.  I want to bash some conkers together like we used to do when I was a kid.  The only part of the autumn I don’t like is when it ends and that asshole winter shows its face again.  Could we not abolish winter?  Just have three seasons of awesomeness and no cold any more?  I’m going to absolutely instigate this as a law when I’m the ruler of some divine world force that everyone has to bow down to.  Send donations now, please, all those cocktails, wine, cheese and cupcakes needed for my “campaign” won’t be cheap!  I’ll make it worth your while.

Know what might fix things?  Some good coffee, a ukulele and a nice slice of carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.  You with me?

You’ll all be thrilled to know my toe, one month on, is still hurting and still fat as Octomom before she popped.  It is, however, no longer purple.  Just red.  And huge.  And less hurty than it was but still pretty achey and sorry for itself.  “Drink a Kopparberg and shut the hell up, Toe!” I keep telling it, but it never listens.

You guys, if you can find Kopparberg cider, particularly the pear one, anywhere near you, get it immediately, chill carefully and drink the shit out of it.  That’s my advice for the day.  It’s the best advice you’ll ever get. And cider’s made from apples and apples are autumny no?  See?  We’re topical.

I Just Don't Know, Man

Thursday, September 1st, 2011 - Ornery with toe throb, urge for mischief

Ha, you guys, welcome to September, which seems like a big old ball of excrement to me because for the most part, I had next to no summer with lots of rain and now it's almost over and I'm still white as a ghost and full of the crank. Pretty soon winter will be thundering into town again, about as welcome as a foul-mouthed, old, racist aunt who smells like rolling tobacco, lavender and Michael Bolton's jock-strap. Thanks a LOT, winter.

It's especially pout-inducing, as I had to hear, daily, about how most of you people spent this summer boiling in the centre of the Sun and were practically expiring from the oppression of surviving in the fiery pits of hell, with your, "GROAN, it's just TOOOOO hot to do anything!" and your, "Please send us some rain!" and BOO HOO HOO, you fuckers, man up and shut up.

No, I'm not bitter. What made you think that? Sniff. I LIKE rain.

Anyway, I'm getting a little sunshine this week at least, so I will turn into a sappy old hippy and scatter daisies in my wake and sing that "Age of Aquarius" song and be generally as happy as a sprinkle of ice cold unicorn sweat on a hot afternoon.

I heard unicorns sweat gin and tonic, is that true?

I also found the perfect merging of ingredients to make frozen strawberry margaritas that are restaurant quality. Seriously. They are that good. So they have been icing down my mood and icing down my toe, simultaneously. Isn't that nice? Even my giant, deformed sausage-toe agrees. In fact, it suggests it needs its medicine daily. I wouldn't argue with deformed sausage-toe, because it ALWAYS knows best. Pass the tequila.

Now if only it would fit back in a shoe...