Friday, 20 March 2009

London Haircuts

I will put my hand up and admit that I haven’t been to a hairdresser since Jan of last year. I’ve never been one of those girls who runs to the salon every week for the manicure/ pedicure. A. I have better things to do with my Saturdays, B. what a waste of money and C. They always end up ballsing it up! Hair is hair, as long I can brush it and style it myself, I’m happy. I’m an easy child to please.

So over the last 14months, Justin has been cutting my hair. At first both of us were nervous about out money saving venture. But with practise he’s got quite good and he’s done me well. However with my trip to Australia just around the corner I figured I should really get a professional to reshape it back to the former glory mum paid for (Yes, she paid for that hair cut many moons ago!) I just spend the last hour ringing hairdressers across London. I am absolutely mortified at what they want to charge me! £56.00 for an inch off the bottom, my fringe reshaping and thinning scissors! £56, are you on crack?? For that price I hope those scissors are diamond incrusted and I get a certificate at the end! £56!! Yeah, tell him he’s dreaming! £56 could buy me a house in Zimbabwe but in London all it gets me is a 15min trim. Where is the justification! Who pays those prices, why are these people still in business? This is clearly taking advantage of people in need. It’s extortion! You wouldn’t take an old granny for a ride on her plumping but you’d try and squeeze me for all I’m worth when it comes to haircut time. Hello, Consumer Watchdog anyone?

The cheapest I could find was £30. £30 is more like it but only if you throw in a blow dry, glass of wine and the latest vogue magazine. I mean really. Why do haircuts cost so much. How can they justify it? Its hair for crying out loud and all you have to do is cut it! If Justin can do it, anyone can do it!

I’m really not impressed with the level of budget hairdressers. It’s not that I can’t afford £56, it’s more that I can’t justify it. This is a girl who picks up pennies of ground and keeps them in a jar. She calls it her ‘I-Found-Your-Penny Saver account’! £56 is a lot of money to those of us who don’t throw cash around willy-nilly.

So your asking, is she going to remain Ferrell and continue to have Justin cut her hair? The answer is yes. But I am going to go to Supercuts next week Monday for a dry cut. £12.95 is more my kind of haircut! Although I’m not impressed that doesn’t include a hair wash and head rub. I do like a good head rub.

Tuesday, 17 March 2009

Redneck Greenhouse ALERT!

Did I ever mention that the boyfriend is a bit of handyman wannabe? No? So I didn't tell you about how he refused to buy a dustpan and brush but rather made one? No? (pics to follow!)

I've just been informed that when we get from Australia he's building a greenhouse...

My back yard is going to look one of those yards you see in Redneck land!! The word 'EWW' comes to mind but at least we'll have nice ruby tomatoes!

But I'm Happy With Who I Am?

I and 39 other brats were in the same program at school. We did almost half of our high schooling in German. At the tender age of 16 we were then shipped off to Germany for 3months. At this point I should say that we ran an absolute muck and after our little stint the groups to follow us were only sent over for 6weeks. We really weren’t that bad… I hope?

Now back in the day I didn’t get along with most of my peers. I really just couldn’t be bothered with conforming. I had my own ideas about things and in all fairness I was bored and ached for the next step. I just wanted to break free of the box and do my own thing. In other words, while people were studying, I was mapping routes around Europe and watched FX tables. While in class, all I wanted to do was sit and write stories. I just found the whole school experience very draining and not what I wanted my life to be. Although I now work in a German Bank so I can’t say it was completely pointless.

My whole life seemed to be governed for me. Go to school and be told what to do. Come home and be told what do. Weekends, free time but within certain limitations and it just went on! I had no choices. It seemed everything was made up for me. While everyone else my age seemed to accept this situation, I craved to be on my own. I craved independence on the grandest of scales. I was done. At the beginning of grade 12 (17 years of age) I made the decision that I was going to London… FOR GOOD! I couldn’t take much more of it. I promised mum I would finish school but at the end of the year my life would be exactly that, my life. In November I was turning 18 and by law I could do what ever the hell I wanted. Those friends closest to me know first hand how I struggled with every aspect of my lif in my last of school. I felt Claustrophobic. I needed freedom and I was prepared to give up everything for it.

I remember going to the guidance councillor just before the end of grade 12. She asked me what I wanted to study at Uni and why I hadn’t handed in my forms ect. I told her straight that I wasn’t going to Uni. So she asked me what I planned to study at TAFE. I ignored her question and asked, “Have you ever backpacked your way across Europe?”I’ll never forget what she said back, “Kellie, dreaming is not a career. You need to study hard to get anywhere in life.” I smiled, picked up my school bag and simply replied with, “that all depends on what your chosen final destination is.” At the time I thought it was quite philosophical of me! Pretty sure she just shrugged after I’d closed that door and figured I was just a lost cause.

On the 21st January 2005, at the tender age of 18years, 2months and 6days, I boarded a plane to London Heathrow on a one-way ticket. All I had with me was 20kg of luggage, £300 and determination to make it. Now it’s 17th March 2009 and I sit here in London and look out the office window at this marvellous city. I can smile thinking about all the experiences I’ve had, places I’ve been and things I’ve seen. I can take a deep breath and know I have no limits or rules to live by other than my own. I have a good job, a good man, a cute little kitty and the world is at our feet/paws.

I often think back to that meeting in the tiny little, brown and one windowed room that contained nothing more than a desk, 2 chairs and pamphlet stand. “You need to study hard to get anywhere in life.” I should have replied with, “Like you miss?”

Monday, 16 March 2009

I’ll be coming around the Corner When I Come!

The title is in relation to Brisbane’s International Arrivals lounge not the dirty thing you were just thinking! (PERVERT!) At Brisbane’s International Arrivals, you literally come around the corner of a big frosted glass sheet to be greeted by your friends and family. And in 7 days time I will be doing exactly that. The best part of any airport is the trolley’s, I will be perched on our trolley with suitcases while the boyfriend pushes me around the glass sheet. I often take a seat on the trolley when we’re at airports. I figure I may as well make the most of 50kg frame while I can! Heathrow T3 arrivals is the highlight of most trips because there is that long ramp down to the exit. The boyfriend lifts his legs and we both go flying down like a pair of nutters who belong on Jackass. We’ve only had our trolley confiscated once. It was worth loosing the pound though! I have a video of us flying down the ramp with 2 security guards chasing us. We out rolled them but another was waiting at the bottom for us. You can take our luggage trolley but you will never take our youth and intuitive ways of entertainment.

But back on track, we’re heading out to Brisbane for some much needed sun and relaxation. We’re out there for 3 weeks and we’re so excited we’ve taken to crossing our legs along to stop the wee coming out! I haven’t been home in over 2 years so I’m itching to see of my friends and how everything has changed.

That’s really all I have to say. My leg starts bouncing at the thought of going home in just over a week and the high light of my days leading up to our departure has been my count down calendar at work. Each day is one day less.

In other words, YAY, OH YES, COME ON, YES, OH YES, YES, YEEEEESSS! **again you’re one sick little puppy. But we all perverts deep down so I won’t judge ;)**

Wednesday, 11 March 2009

T-Mobile Get s A Bitch Slap!

I'm too pissed off for words! Here's the letter I just sent.

Dear Sir/Madam

I write to you after a brief phone call with one your representatives. I was speaking with a gentleman called Martin. I rang 150 as I wished to question 3 calls on my bill. Martin had told me that these charges relate to calls received whilst in the Czech Republic. I find this hard to believe as the bill states that the calls in question were made from the Czech Republic. I know no one who is with a Czech provider. Further to this, I find it very hard to believe that I had, in total, 13 seconds worth of conversation spread over 3 calls. All of these calls were received when I made calls, how can this be? There maybe a simple explanation for these charges but I did not receive one from Martin. He offered me several options but no solution. I would be very grateful as to receive more information in relation to these 3 calls. Please find her within a print out. I have highlighted the calls and times in question.

While I was on the phone with Martin I asked him if T Mobile provides any sort of package for travelling to Australia. To which he said no. Texts will cost me 40p to a UK number and 50p to an Australian number. Martin said I could take out an International package but that will cost me £2.75 (there about) per month and that will only lower the cost of calls received. I find it very poor on T Mobile’s behalf to not offer any sort of package for mobile use outside of the EU. T Mobile will charge me premium rates with no alternative options and for this reason I will not be using my mobile abroad but rather source an alternative option upon arrival.

I am very disappointed with T Mobile. I changed service provider from O2 after being assured that customer care was one of your top most concerns. This is not the first time I have had issues with billing and to then find out that T Mobile offer no alternative for travel outside of the EU is very concerning. I asked Martin when my contract is up for renewal as I will be considering my options when this time comes. He asked me to hold the line. At the point the line went dead and I was disconnected. Once again I am let down by T Mobile.

I suffer poor internet connectivity to my blackberry, for which I pay an extra £10 a month for, I’ve now had 2 issues with billing and not having clear explanations for extra charges, I receive poor network coverage when I’m outside of London, I can’t add on any package that will allow me to use my phone internationally and will be charged premium rates. To top it all off, your trained representative had no answers and then dropped the call.

I make the assumption that this letter will be read by a senior member of management. I look forward to your timely response.


Tuesday, 10 March 2009

Womb Pimpin'

Last night I watched a documentary that followed the trials and tribulations of women who have babies for cash. Now while this is a very selfless act, to give up your body for the happiness of complete strangers, it did get me wondering. Besides the money, £10,000 up to £20,000 a pop, what would posses someone to spend most of their adult life knocked up? One woman had gone through the process 13 times and now at the age of 45 was looking baby number 14. Great pension plan but what must her health insurance cost?

Now, I’ve never been pregnant so I don’t know how it feels but I know a lot of people who have been and they all seem to come down with this that or the other. Fat feet, sore back, rashes, diabetes, moody and god know what else. But as they say, no pain no gain. Fair enough, if it’s your own kid I’m sure the pleasure outweighs the pain. But you can’t honestly tell me you’d go through nine months of living hell for a complete stranger’s child? That’s just hormones gone ‘I-must-make-babies’ mad! These ladies are on Coo-Coo land!

On that note, having a baby for a loved one who can’t conceive/carry is a beautiful thing. I take my hat off to those ladies who do that for their sisters, cousins etc. Personally, I couldn’t. I’ve been told that being pregnant is a very empowering thing and makes you feel complete. I think this is because you’re fulfilling your animal purpose. Women are baby making machine. That’s why we’re here. To prepare, produce and then pop. Thank god society has allowed up to vote in between our nine month Triple P Processes. Otherwise we’d get so bored! Apparently during the pregnancy you feel at one with your baby. I’m sorry but if I ever go through nine months of not seeing my fat feet, craving weird things, mood swings, a sore back and on top of that, form some kind of whacked-out bond with the parasite growing inside of me; you can bet your bottom dollar I’m keeping the little monster. Like hell I’m walking away from all of that without a trophy!

No, I think if you’re going to have a baby for cash you have some deep seeded problems and insecurities. You don’t need to pimp out your womb to feel loved, special, complete and needed. But in saying that, these women have mad a lot of people happy and themselves a lot of money. If you can’t have children, maybe taking advantage of these women and their fragile state of mind isn’t such a bad thing. I know if I couldn’t conceive/carry my own child that I would probably consider jumping on the baby train and pay a fruit loop to have one for me. If anything else, at least I’d keep my figure and my boobs wouldn’t sag. I’d pay £10,000 for that get out Jail Free card any day!

Monday, 9 March 2009

The Day The Fat Kid Was Cool

Coming from a skinny person who's always wanted to fly; HOLY FUCK, THIS IS AWESOME!!!

Naught Words in Public Places

I’ve been told that I write very amusing stories. I’ve also been told that I have a gift. I’d say it’s more down to having too much time on my hands but hey, I’ll run with gift! Hehe

However all those complements aside, I was quite perplexed a few moments ago when I was told, that seeing as my blog is not a profession blog I should really let it all hang out and take some chances. I shouldn’t stop at the PC stop sign nor should I sensor my writing with words like, ‘heck’ and ‘flipping.’ This person went on to tell me that I should even invite those who I rip the heck out of into my magic online world as to provoke a response to my online banter.

I just think that there is no need for a public dirt fight. Further to this, why must I swear? I think I get my point across just fine and dandy without using naughty words.
However seeing as this as been brought to my attention, going forward I will try to be a little more Avant-garde and think outside the box. I don’t think that swearing is the way to do this but I’ll give it a try.

Were you offended, in an arty-farty way that left you wondering and desiring more? Like a leather-bound man in an S & M club with a feather up his ass?
No? Didn’t think so….

Gossip Girls and Parisian Café Music on Acid

So last night the boyfriend and I totted along to a gig in Angel. One of my bestest buddies is back from Aus, so it was a prime time catch up filled with gossip, passion and glitter.

The music was supposed to kick off at 4 but it didn’t. Yes it was one of these; ‘We’ll play when we want to play because we’re cool and colourful’ type gigs. So after many pints and waiting around, eventually the first band took to the stage. It was a 2 piece band consisting of a man singing and playing and guitar and a guy on Tambourine. Yes Tambourine! He didn’t hum, he didn’t sing, he drank beer and banged a tambourine. GO SON GO! While his mate poured his heart out into the microphone he sat there swigging beer and smacking a tambourine on his knee.

After being mesmerised by the tambourine the next band came on. I was like Parisian Café music on acid. Again it was a 2 piece band. Adorned with berets, one girl played the Accordion and Harp while the other rocked out on a mandolin and Violin. Both girls had bells tied to their ankles. All that was missing was the Sad Mime and the hand gun. Art house at it finest/ worst? I struggle to tell the difference. The boyfriend being the music man he is, sort of tapped his foot and nodded while Andy and I looked at each other and wondered WTF! It was like nothing we’d heard before. You could tell these girls were classically trained, you could see it in their eyes. It was like they were rebelling and trying to piss their old violin and harp teachers off. They sort of sang along with their sad music in a ‘Cats-Drowning’ tone. It was odd to say the least.

Once that was done the boyfriend and I headed home and discussed the finer thing in life. Like should we watch, ‘My Name is Earl’ or ‘2Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps.’

I Wish I Was This Clever

The current craze to sweep through the virtual world is ‘List of Things About Me.” I will put my hand up and admit to this form of lazy blogging. It is truly a waste of time and only those who stalk you will read it. So to mix it up a bit I’ve decided to list the funniest things I’ve ever heard. Some these I’ve blogged about in the past, some of them I haven’t.

Without further ado here are 25 lines that I found truly gob smacking.

1. Girl: I bought these Magical Angel cards. They really can predict the future.
Me: The box says made in Twain?
Girl: I bought them at WHSmith.

2. (Talking about football)
Me: We should support the underdogs. Everyone loves a come back!
Girl: Who are they? I’ve never heard of a team called the underdogs.

I didn’t realise there were dates in sticky date pudding.

4. If the world is getting so hot why don’t they just outlaw daylight savings?

5. Kell you are so stupid, I don’t fly over the equator to get to South Africa! I fly over Africa.

6. (Same girl, same destination, still geographically challenged)
We’re going from the 3rd to the 20th of March but plan to fly out on the 27th.

7. Girl: Where’s Amsterdam?
Me: Netherlands.
Girl: Isn’t that were Peter Pan come from?

8. I wouldn’t call Paris Hilton famous. She’s stupid.
(Yes Paris Hilton is a little wet behind the ears but she aint got nothing on you!)

Your chances are the same in winning the lottery and developing cancer.

10. I’ll breast feed my baby until the child decides to stop. Breast milk is better than baby food.

11. (Written on a CV, Appling for administrative roles.)
I like animals.

12. They don’t speak Flemish in Belgium! They speak Bulgarian!

13. Girl: Your grandmother once had a licence to shoot Aborigines.
Me: Excuse me? Are you calling my grandmother a murderer?
Girl: My dad told me.
Me: And your dad knows this because?
Girl: His brother lived out in Australia for a year.
Me: Did he fly over the equator to get there?

14. Girl: I’m allergic to Salt.
Her boyfriend: Then why aren’t you dead? I cook with salt every night.
Girl: I’m only allergic to large amounts of salt.

15. (On a tour bus at Windsor)
Tourist to tour guide: It’s very cold out there, do you mind if I stay on the bus while you guys look around?”

16. Boyfriend: Don’t call me sweet pea. Call me something more manly like, Batman or Predator!

17. Girl: You fat bitch!
Me: Are you blind or just thick?

18. Girl: I like my Pasta Ally Dented, that’s when it’s cooked the Italian way.
Boy: Ally who? I think you mean Al dente. You put the pasta in the water and boil it. It’s pretty universal which ever way you look at it.

19. (Phone call with IT)
Me: I’m still waiting on the temporary password so *** can access her account. It’s locked.
It help desk: I e-mailed it to her.

20. Girl: What’s the capital of London?
Me: London is the capital of England.
Girl: Yeah, but what’s the capital of London
Me: Euston. (a stupid question deserves a stupid answer!)

21. Girl: Do I look nice
Me: You look like mutton dressed as lamb.
Girl: I do not look like a sheep!! I’m not ever wearing white!

22. (I’ll admit that Geography wasn’t my strongest subject in high school BUT COME ON!)
Girl: I’m going to move to Canada. It has summer at the same time as South Africa.

24. My eye-liner has dried out. (She then spat on it!)

25. (On a train to Scotland)
Boyfriend: Look at the baby horse!
Me: Where?
Boyfriend: There!!!!
Me: Honey, that’s a sheep.

South Africans and Sport

Nothing against South Africans. I love them, I really do. In fact I love them so much that I’m even dating one. However they do have one flaw. They way they carry on about Sport. GIVE IT A BONE!!! It’s to the point that I don’t watch Aus v RSA games with them. They carry on like a pack of galas! Calm the heck down before you do yourself an injury.

Why is it that South Africa can win one game or championship in what ever sport and all of a sudden they think they’re world champions? I had a discussion about this the other night with a South African. He started going on about the cricket. I told him straight, “I don’t follow the Cricket so your gloating is lost on me.”
“What do you mean you don’t follow the cricket? WE WON! WE’RE THE WORLD CHAMPIONS. YOU SUCK!”
“Hmmm, how very sportsmen like of you to tell me that I personally suck. You’re wrong; Australia is currently number 1 on the international table.”
“No, we just beat you so we are.”
“Wrong, you won A game or test or what ever it’s flipping called. That doesn’t make you world champions.”
“Yes it does!”
“No, it’s doesn’t.”
“Look I know these things. We’re number 1.”
I shook my head and said, “If you say so. What ever.”

That just wound him up to beaking point so he then moved onto rugby, “We’re number 1 in the rugby too!”
“No you’re not. New Zealand is.”
“No, we won the world cup! We’re the champions.”
“I’m afraid the World Cup doesn’t mean diddly squat in international rankings. Statistically speaking, which is how the teams are ranked in the international table, New Zealand is number 1.”
“What would you know? No, we’re number 1. You’re just making this up.”
“Sure, I’m making this up. Because I would say NZ is number 1, if I making this up. Okay, South Africa number 1 if it makes you happy. But tell me, how’s that 3rd world country title doing for you?”
It was at this point the boyfriend shot me a look that meant, “Another word out of you and you’re going to bed with no supper.”
It’s hardly my fault that the fool was talking out his ass and not listening to what I was saying! Wind me up and my mouth will spit fire.

So today, I get to work and decide to have a look at the international Cricket and Rugby tables. As predicted I was rite, South Africa is not number 1 on either table. Have a look for yourself if you don’t believe me!

So put that in your pipe and smoke it! Oh and please before you preach something, check your facts. You should know me by now! I blog everything! xx

Thursday, 5 March 2009

If I Had Balls, They'd be Bruised!

I now know how a man feels when he gets kicked in the balls.

I just exchange £300 for $620... I feel sick.

Wednesday, 4 March 2009

Arrogant? Obama?

It’s ballsy, it’s outlandish, it’s rude, it’s wrong and yet it’s so freakin’ funny! Kudos to for ballsing up their advertisement placement!

I wonder whose picture would appear next to money if we looked it up?

Monday Nights - LAMB CHOPS NIGHT!

The only thing that gets me through a Monday is thought of my Lamb Chops. Some people look at the size of me and automatically think I don’t eat. They make the assumption that I live off carrot stick. WRONG! I eat a healthy amount. I have what you call a high metabolism and this high Metabolism allows me to eat my own weight in Lamb Chops every Monday Night!

I love Minted Lamb Chops more than my own mother. I buy them from Iceland. They’re cheap, tasty and God’s way of telling me that he loves me. At the moment I have 3 packs at home, 2 in the freezer and 1 in the fridge marinating. I like to have a couple of spares just in case of emergencies. For example, what if there’s a break out of Zombies or aliens attack London? How am I going to get to the shops? I would like to be prepared for such occasions. Oh you laugh at me now but who will be laughing when you’re housebound without a lamb chop insight?

Marinating? But didn't she just say she buys the Minted ones? Correct. God did a bad thing and took my minted chops away from me. I went to shop and looked in all the freezers but there were none! I was reduced to the normal ones that I have to marinate myself. I went home and cried on my boyfriends shoulder. Yes real tears and real sobs. The boyfriend had to pat me on the back to help me calm down. I was distraught!

So the other day we’re in Iceland. I’m off looking at chocolate (please note the point about my high metabolism in the first paragraph… jealous yet?) and the boyfriend was off, doing boyfriend things like reaching for the high stuff and scaring children. Suddenly he came running back and asked me, “Guess what I found?” I told him that stealing children was illegal and he better put it back. He shook his head and looked serious. I went threw a list of things ranging from Chicken legs to washing up liquid. I was getting frustrated with him. “JUST TELL ME!” So he said, “What does god give to good girls?”

“LAMB CHOPS!!!” I ran around to the isle as fast as my little legs would carry me. And there they were in all their minted glory. My £3.50 lamb Chops. From the other side of the shop the boyfriend said he heard me let out a squeal with delight. If you were me you would let out a squeal too!

So now you think, the story has a happy ending. WRONG! We only had £5 on us. Only enough for one pack!! I did the only thing that anyone in my situation would do. I hid the other packets under a pile of lamb shanks! No one is getting to my lamb chops!!!!

And do you know what, no one did. (Now it’s a happy spoilt-little-monster ending.)

Sunday, 1 March 2009

Hamster on a Piano

The things we find on youtube...