Happy Birthday Pie!!

Actually it's a Happy Birthday cake, but close enough.

Hugs and good times to follow. :)

xx

Madam, are you always this difficult, or are you just having a bad day?

Why are so many women in their 40s such cows? I hope I don't become like that.

This bitch of a woman first of all didn't want to pay for a call to international directory assistance, which I do as well as local directory, because "on her Telstra phone it was free" (it's not) and then proceeded to argue with me about how much this call would cost... which I couldn't even tell her because it depends on what plan you're on, and I don't know these things. Well I do, but I'm technically not allowed to tell her. The stupid bint wouldn't give up, despite my constant "I don't know, madam, do you still want me to find a listing for you?" Once I told her she could be paying as much as 3.50 per minute she decided to ask for the listing - and I'd better be quick.

Oh well, I got a bit of smug satisfaction out of the fact that she paid about $5 to have an argument. I hope she chokes.

So far so good...

Day 2.5 being nicotine-free for njc. No cravings? Pfft. But he's holding out.
Be strong, my darling!

Day 4 for me on the PSMF Best results I've had in a looong time.

Also coping OK with going back to 8.5 hour shifts. It doesn't suck too much, although getting home at 1 AM and the resulting late rising the next morni...er...afternoon... is playing havoc with our body clocks. This would be great if we were planning an overseas trip - would certainly help with the jetlag - however I think it's a bit rich that I'm wide awake at 4 AM in my own house.

Waaah.

Back to long (8.5 hr) shifts today. It'll suck. *sulk*

Movies.

Not much today - I rebuilt our MYOB files after the iBook hard drive cracked the shits a couple of weeks ago. Everything adds up! (Wonders will never cease.)

Slight dramas (read: short-lived but mind-numbing terror) when reinstalling the XP partition on husband njc's PC. Bloody Windows. What gives it the right to completely ignore instructions, and re-format a partition it wasn't supposed to? Grrr. Luckily it was the root partition rather than one that actually holds all of the irreplaceable data. And apparently reinstalling Ubuntu was a breeze. Back-ups ahoy, me hearties!

And tonight we went to see an advance screening of The Exorcism of Emily Rose. Wasn't as scary or supernatural as I was hoping, and took ages to get going. It was more like The Exorcist meets Law and Order. Not exactly crap, but I'm glad I only paid $7.

Morning is breaking...

5:50 AM.

The slightly bleary morning peace is shattered by the sounds of a computer monitor ending its life against damp asphalt.

Closely followed by a computer, an ergonomic chair in two pieces, and an expanding file - its contents disgorging themselves on the way down.

Half an hour, a call to the cops, a guitar, some balcony furniture, some nasty thumping, sickening crunching sounds, and four burly policemen later, our presumably psychotic and un-medicated next-door neighbour was bundled into the back of a paddywagon and driven away.

What made the whole episode more bizarre is that we couldn't see what was happening. There'd just be a bump (our flat and their flat shares a wall) or a shout and Whee! something else would come flying out from the direction of next-door's balcony and crash onto the driveway below.

Here's a couple of photos of the resulting debris.



See the trashed monitor near the back of the white car?



You can just see the back of the guitar lying flat on the grass, just behind the neck. I think that was the thing that affected me the most - we often used to hear someone next door practising guitar. I find it really disturbing when people destroy their own things, especially when they are things they loved.

He was something of a machine though, to be able to hurl those heavier items out that far. Next-door's flat sits a few meters further back from the driveway than ours does. If it wasn't so sad it'd be impressive.

This man and his wife(?) - who we assume was cowering in fear throughout this incident - were the quietest, most unassuming neighbours you could ask for (unlike our previous noise-Nazis, the infamous Bert and Betty). Evidently it's the quiet ones you have to look out for.

Anyway. We're going back to bed.

Two things

First: Anyone who is at all frightened about the Coalition's industrial relations "reforms" should go here and send an e-mail to one or both of the Senators that remain to be convinced that the whole thing is a good idea.

Second: It's a gorgeous day. Only 19 degrees (Centigrade, not Fahrenheit, for the Americans in the audience) at the moment but clear and blue and all round beaut. The Bureau says we're in for a hot summer. Hell Yeah.

Your application for Annual Leave has been approved for 23 Dec 2005 to 03 Jan 2006.

It's a cause for jubilation and dancing in the streets.

No waiting in fear for the December roster to be released, to find I'm working from 12 - 8.30 on Christmas Day and again on Boxing Day. No pathetic pleading e-mails to those not rostered on, begging for a shift swap. No stressing about having to make a lightning drive 2 hours north to see our respective families and be back again in a day.

I love Christmas. *blush* I love all the hideously unhealthy food and Christmas night cocktails and hanging out with family and various friends that often drop in, gravitating to my Mum's ample and delicious leftovers. I hate the idea of having to rush it.

Ahhh. I'll even have time for Christmas shopping. *puts feet up*

And to cap it all off, I get New Years Eve and New Years Day off. And two days after that! Trashbags ahoy.

She turned me into a newt!

I have a viral throat infection - requiring salt gargles. Ugh.

And apparently my fasting serum insulin and glucose levels are dead normal. So the theory that I was insulin resistant doesn't seem to hold any water now. Which - don't get me wrong - is good... but it would have explained why I can't lose this extra 10kg that insists on following me around.

Oh well, back on the bike. Mister Slanty.

Bleagh.

Well, it was a very civilised and sensible BBQ.

Then all the parents and neices and nephews and aunts and uncles went home and it was all on for young and old.

I think we left about 3.30 (yes, in the morning) leaving the troops still bouncing around the loungeroom. I got a txt from Pie at 11, saying she'd just got home! Tut tut. :)

My problem now is not a hangover (which I don't have, much to my surprise) or any other post-partying effects. I have a very, very sore throat. I feel like I have two spiky footballs in my neck where my tonsils are supposed to be. Unfair. I was reasonably responsible and came to work, as I vowed I would, and now I'm being punished. Wah.

Huh?

I've somehow managed to cut my tongue. I don't remember asking for extra glass on my pizza last night. Most baffling.

Tonight it's off to Smiley and SevPsyche's place for an OMGWTFBBQ! for Smiley's birthday. Actually it'll just be a normal BBQ, at least in the initial stages, as it involves parents and small children. Which is a Good Thing, as I have to work tomorrow afternoon, and DA with party after-effects is bad0r.

Home delivery!

Mmmmm.... home delivery pizza and pasta. Whatsmore, home delivery pizza and pasta, by a company that accepts credit card. Very dangerous.

Nice evening tonight - went to Knoppies and Bar Celona to catch up with Stretch and KittyKat, who have just got back from 18 months living in Scotland. Apparently it's rather cold and cloudy over there most of the time. Who would have thunk it?

So yeah, as I have to be at work at 1 pm tomorrow, uh, today, we were very sensible and left the pub by 10 pm. But went via the bottle shop for 2 x bottles of wine + supplies for a certain bbq tomorrow night*.

So after the first bottle of wine, and our last meal being at 5 pm, we were ready for food. Doh. I'm supposed to be avoiding carbohydrates and all things pizza and pasta-like.

Gosh it was tasty but.






* Which will probably end up finishing up 150% later and being 500% more debauched than I intended.... pfft, huh?

My blog is better than your blog

My brother (a geek from way back) has been keeping a livejournal since ... well since the beginning of time, from the looks of things. He's an astoundingly amusing individual! And he thinks a lot too, which makes his little stories excellent reading.

Check it out

My blog is prettier. :P But his is longer, and actually better. Ahh, hurrah for sibling rivalry.

Meanwhile, to give this post its obligatory slice of mundanity - we went grocery shopping tonight and bought 15 different types of fruit and vegetables. OMFG. You should see our fridge, it looks like something out of a Westinghouse catalogue.

I'm liking this health kick thing.

What does the "G" stand for?

"I - don't - know!"

I like Invader Zim. It was only recently introduced to me by our very dear friends Jimmy and Pie. Brilliant! Almost as many quoteable quotes as The Fifth Element. Actually... probably more, now that I think about it.

Anyway this morning I've been adding to my selection of links. I'm sure there's heaps more I can put up, I just can't think of any more right now. Brain.... hurting....gak...

I'd better go do my 60 minutes of cardio. It's the only way I'm going to be a size 12 before Christmas, I think.

"Look into my eyes, my eyes, don't look around the eyes, 3, 2, 1... you're under!"

Apparently some Moldovian con-man has worked out how to hypnotise bank tellers into handing over wads of cash. Pretty impressive.

Husband dearest is attending a Stop Smoking in One Hour hypnotherapy session in a bit over a week. Hopefully they'll be just as persuasive.

"I want the Australian Embassy! In Canberra!"

Baffling DA call #476

Was this woman drunk? On drugs? Or just inconceivably stupid?
HELLO... since when did a country have an embassy... in its own capital city??

Sigh.

After trying - unsuccessfully - to explain that Australia doesn't have an Embassy in Canberra, only in foreign countries, she angrily went on to request to speak to The Government. Specifically, the highest ranking government official I could find. Well gee. At 11.30 at night I think we'd be having trouble. Perhaps the Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet? Yes OK. I'll put you through to the switchboard, I say. NO! Not the switchboard! I want the Prime Minister! I'm sorry Ma'am (snigger) but I doubt that he answers his own phone calls, and doubt even more that he'd be in his office at this time of night.

Then there were arguments about how she shouldn't have to pay for this call to 123 because I couldn't get her this number that doesn't exist... and then strangely, the call dropped out... awww.

What would she want to say to the Prime Minister at 11.30 at night anyway, for Pete's sake? Well yeah, I can think of a few things, involving the words "Machiavellian", "Industrial" and "Reforms"... but that's for another time.

Uh....

Let's give this a go then. How bad could it be, hm?