Friday, 29 May 2009

I Think I'll Eat Some Worms

We don’t have children but we do have a cat and I guess he is short of our baby. He’s a funny little thing with a personality to match. He doesn’t really have a name; he just knows our voices and comes when we call. He’s a bit of a Ninja cat. He can catch flies in his paws and we have witnessed him fly-kick a squirrel. Don’t get him wrong though, he’s very loving.

Last night, Justin called me to the yard, “Come check what Kitty caught for us?”
I was reluctant to go outside. The last time he caught us a gift, it was a dead mouse.
“What is it?” I called from the safety of the kitchen.
“Go and look!”
Curiosity killed the cat (yes I am fully aware that wasn’t funny but I’d though I’d throw it in anyway. The pun was intended now leave it alone!) I ventured outside to see out kitty sitting very proudly in front of his catch of the day. “I don’t think we could own a stranger cat even if we tried.” I bent down low to pat him on the head, “Good boy but earth worms aren’t really a nuisance. Why don’t you go hunt a nice big rat and we’ll throw it on the braai for you.”
Kitty replied, “Meow, puuuuurrrr.”
Justin came over and together we examined the worm trying to make a quick get away. “Clearly, kitty thinks he’s on a diet and would rather a worst than a steak!”

We went back inside and left kitty to play with his worm. Oh well, rather worms and mice over birds.
Predator Cat: Hear him Meow!

Thursday, 28 May 2009

Stimulate my middle finger and sit on it Mr. Rudd

Give this a read:

This is so unfair! It’s all well and good giving money to those in Australia who fit the criteria. I thought it was a bit of warped idea but the people seemed to love getting cash for nothing so I haven’t complained before now. However after reading this article, I’m fairly certain I want to put a hit out on the Australian Labour Government.

How do you think me and many others feel when we find out the government has sent cash to those living overseas if they still pay income tax in Australia? What about those Australian citizens who live and pay tax in another country but then send their hard earned Pounds and Pennies back home? Talk about NOT feeding the hand that could potentially bite you by pulling out our money!

This is a kick in the balls on the grandest of scales. I work hard for my money and with the current interest rates it makes sense for me to hold my savings in Aus. I’m doing Australia a favour by doing this. I’m giving my hard earned cash to the Australian banks. It’s people like me, pumping cash back into the country through savings, investment, tourism ect that’s helping Australia ride the recession wave so well.

I don’t have an income in Australia; therefore I don’t pay income tax. And because of that you’re declaring I don’t disserve to be stimulated? Who died and put this idiot in charge? Common sense would say it’s the people like me who should get the cash as we’ve proven we pump the money straight back into the banking system.

I’m sorry Mr. Rudd but I think you’re a twatbag and I don’t like you very much. In fact I’ll openly say I never voted for you in the first place because I knew you’d go and screw everything up. On top of being a general twat you now go and screw me over for having a ‘go getters’ attitude and giving something back to Australia.

Well you can Stimulate my middle finger and sit on it Mr. Rudd. In your mind I’m just an Expatriate who doesn’t earn in Aus, therefore I’m not Aussie enough to deserve the stimulus package. Well if that’s the case I guess I’m not Aussie enough to pay tax on my savings either! You ask how I’m going to do this. Oh its easy Mr. Rudd, I simply declare myself as a UK citizen and claim it as an investment under XXX amount. That little British passport is more than just a ticket around Europe. It’s proving itself quite the meal ticket too! And the beauty all of this is, I don’t even have to forfeit my Aussie citizenship or passport. I can still come and go as I please and not give you a penny for it. Sucks to be you Mr. Rudd, sucks to be you.

You can kiss your percentage of my savings good bye and while you’re at it you can probably kiss a whole more than just my interest tax good bye. You’ve pissed a lot of Australian’s off over here and it’s only a matter of time before tax companies ect start to help the masses. Who wants to pay tax if you don’t have too?

Stimulus hand out. More like a ‘vote for me’ bribe! Stupid little man. I bet he has a small willie.

Thursday, 21 May 2009

A Normal Sunday Morning

Q. What’s more funny than answering the door to Jehovah witnesses hung over?

A. Watching your boyfriend answer the door to Jehovah witnesses when he’s wearing nothing but a towel.

Q. What’s more funny than you’re boyfriend’s red face when he realises who’s on the other side of the door?

A. When the cat gets out the door and he now has to try and catch it, wearing a towel, while Jehovah witnesses stand on the door step.

Q. What’s more funny that a half naked man running around on the street, chasing a cat while Jehovah witnesses stand at his door?

A. His girlfriend joining in the chase wearing summer PJs and a pair of fluffy slippers.

Q. What’s more funny than 2 half exposed people calling, “kitty, come here.” While Jehovah witnesses look on in amazement?

A. One of the Jehovah witnesses calling out to them, “Is now a good time to talk to you about something very important?”

Q. What’s more funny than 2 half naked people standing on the street looking back at the Jehovah witnesses standing by their door.

A. the half naked people, one carrying a cat, heading back inside and closing the door behind them like nothing had happened.

Wednesday, 20 May 2009

Bloggers Block and what I'm reduced too

I have bloggers block and for once in my sweet 22years of life I have nothing of any interest to say. So please enjoy this short film about a chimp and a segway. I hope you find it as educational as I did.

Tuesday, 19 May 2009

Nothing but a bit of BOLLOCKS!

I used the word ‘bollocks’ the other day and was told very sternly that women and children don’t use that sort of language. I was quite taken back. I've never thought, 'bollocks' to be swear word. Granted it's not the most polite word in the world but would you rather me say 'bollocks' or some other descriptive word that would make my mother blush.

Without going into a rave about equality between the sexes and women’s liberation, I would like to point out the word ‘bollocks’ is widely accepted as an alternative to other naughty words. Please see the following examples.

Friday, 15 May 2009

American Express: Death Option.

Why do companies insist on making their websites so complicated? All I wanted to know was what award systems American Express have and how much it’s going to cost. Can I find that information out on their website? NO! Instead they give me 101 flipping stories about people redeeming their points for this that and the other. I didn’t ask how Julie of London managed to get a bottle champagne to her sister in San Francisco before the birthday party even started. If I wanted to know about Julie and her sister I would have googled, ‘Julie + sister + boring story about cheap champagne.’

Why can’t companies just make their websites simple? Do you think pretty drop down menus that flash and make whoop-whoop noises are going to entertain me? I’m not entertained, I’m pissed off and getting very frustrated! Don’t make me get all Hulk on your ass, turn green and write a letter. Trust me when I say this; you don’t want a letter!

Finally I get to a section that says, ENROL. Yay I think, at least I can have a look at the cost system before I confirm anything. WRONG, it takes me to a story about Frank and his lost laptop! I DON’T CARE ABOUT FRANK AND HIS LOST LAPTOP!!! Get the picture? I don’t give two hoots that Frank is stupid enough to leave his laptop on the plane. Don’t make your problems mine Frank. I seem to have enough of them as it is at the moment. I go to cities all the time where I don’t know anybody and you don’t hear me writing about it (okay you do, but I don’t send my sob stories to American Express!) And further more Frank, are you that incompetent that you couldn’t call the airline yourself? You had to get American Express to do it for you? Well if that’s what I’m wasting my rewards on, they can stick their reward system and while they’re at it, they can stick a badge on me that says, “I’m competent.’

You have no idea how upset I’m getting here. I’ve wasted 30mins of life on this stupid piece of garbage website. That’s 30mins of my life I will never get back! I could have written about a funny story today but no, American Express as ruined it for everyone and now I’m writing about their fancy-dancy website that’s filled with rubbish stories about weekends in the Tuscan sun, sipping on Cappuccino’s and looking at hills. What the hell is this? A Flight Centre advert? I want to know how much to paid for the flipping card not what the hills in Tuscany look like.

No, I’m fed up! You’ve wasted my time and made me angry. If you were any other (smaller) company you would be hearing from me about my legal rights to information and that I’m informing my make believe solicitors! You would have 28 days to comply or my people will sue your fancy website making asses! I’ve done it before and if you didn’t have a huge legal team who you paid millions, I would SO take you on!
I'll get you American Express and your little reward system too!

Thursday, 14 May 2009

Why I Don’t Like Sandwiches.

A lot of you don’t know but I have a love hate relationship with sandwiches…. I love to hate them. There is just something about them that gross me out. Why would you put all those lovely things between 2 pieces of bread?

Here’s the complete low-down as to why sandwiches will NEVER make it to my lunch list.
  1. Soggy corners; Now tell me what is so appetising about soggy bread? The bread alone is enough to put me off! Yet for some reason the ‘food juices’ seem to congregate in the corner of the bread leaving nothing more than a gag worthy mess that you’re supposed to eat… and enjoy? You’re all on planet kookoo!

  2. Warm Ingredients that should be cold; You make a sandwich with cold ingredients that are clearly not meant to be left out of the fridge for long periods of time and then leave the thing to welt on your desk. Now before you go and say “Well why don’t you put the sandwich in the fridge,” you put that horrible thing in the fridge and the bread goes hard (yet soggy in the corners) and the food that shouldn’t be cold, goes cold and frankly hot and cold don’t mix! Throwing them all together between 2 pieces of bread isn’t going to solve the problem.

  3. Foods touching other foods; I’m not fussy but I do believe that foods should not touch other foods. Roast beef should not touch carrots. Chicken nuggets should not touch the sauce until you dip it. The yellow of the egg should not be broken or mixed with the white. Mushrooms should not be touched PERIOD, curry should not touch rice until in your mouth ect. This is why god gave us peas, so we could make damns around our gravy and sauces and the other things that need isolation. Yet somehow people put it all on bread and go for gold… makes me ill just to think about it.

  4. Salad; How is it, Salad seems the most inappropriate thing to stick between bread and yet it acceptable world wide. This is crime against good Salad. Avocado on soggy bread with salad dressing (just in case the bread wasn’t soggy enough all ready!) It should be punishable by death! And as for tomato. The guy who thought tomato would be the ideal filling sent that memo around. Did you miss it? He said he was joking!

  5. They’re expensive; 4 quid for a layered warm soggy lunch with everything mixed together…. YEAH RIGHT! I’ll go for the pie thanks!
  6. Bread; When it comes to Bread it has the triple B threat. It’s bland, boring and BLUURGG! Bread… yep, unless its toasted with butter on it (sometimes veggiemite but lets not get too excited here) I don’t touch it. And White bread should be out rite banned!

That’s about it in a nutshell. They’re horrible dirty things that you eat with your fingers. YUCK! Just the thought of them now is making me gag.

Wednesday, 13 May 2009

BBQ Adventure

Next weekend is the boyfriend’s birthday. He has decided that he wants to have a BBQ to celebrate. Sort of like he did last year but this time he’s organising it. (I vow never to throw a surprise party again.)

So last Saturday we walked an epic 5km to Argos to buy a BBQ. I don’t know why but I always feel dirty sitting in Argos. Now please don’t get me wrong and call me a snob. I’m just as cheap as the next bastard. For us cheap folk Argos is like our Mecca. It’s that I feel like I need to shower or scratch my skin off. Without fail there is always a kid running around in the store with a snotty nose and no shoes on. AND there is always a woman hanging around out the front with a pram and 300 gold chains around her neck. It feels a bit like a job Centre (Centre link.)

So like most of our Argos trips, I was keen to get in there, do our business and then get out. But you know what’s coming next. Justin plus shopping equals 30mins of contemplation over 3 makes with a total of £10 price difference. Now I find this a little pointless as he spent 1hr on the website before we even left the house. I tried to help in the decision making process but in the end I ended up bored and loitering around the cheap jewellery display case. I had to giggle at the take a ticket and wait to be called system at the Jewellery counter. Wonder if they do that at boodles too?

Justin called me over and together we chose a BBQ worthy of our yard. Or in other words, I told him to pick one quick smart because I was bored, hungry and likely to throw a strop within the hour. (Ticking time bomb threat, works every time!)

Before we left the house, Justin had told me that we would get a cab back from Argos seeing as we would have a box… HE LIED! Instead of a cab ride, we walked, yes we walked. We walked the 5km treck home again but this time with a big fuck off box.

Now as with all Argos purchases, it’s not just enough to buy it and bring it home; you also have to have put the bloody thing together. Yes people, its DIY time! So we’re outside with our big fuck off box pulling all the bits out. I turn to Justin, “Here’s the instruction’s honey.” Justin laughs and says, “I don’t need those, I’m a man!” All I can say is, putting a BBQ together without the instructions is a bit like paint by numbers but without the numbers. You know what should go where by the power of common sense but it just doesn’t turn out quite the same as the picture on the box…

So now we a have a fully functional BBQ!! Just don’t try to move it because the wheels are on sideways, the handles are upside down and the grill is a balancing act worthy of applause …

The Picture on the Box

It's kneehigh to a Grasshopper!

Monday, 11 May 2009

My Shit Tank Day

Just like everyone else, I have off days. Today seemed so off it was like rotten milk that has been left in the fridge for months. The milk is so rotten it’s solid and you don’t even bother opening the lid. Yes, that’s my day in a nutshell but now I’m going to open the lid for you all.

It started off last Friday when I was asked to book some flights for 2 candidates going from Singapore to Hong Kong. Now this would usually be an easy task but the bank wanted to save some money so it was booked via the Singapore Air website. All’s fine. The dude in the German office sent me all the details and I passed them onto travel. I make this sound a lot easier than what it was. In theory it involved signoff on several levels and many phone calls back and forth to Germany. I didn’t have to do it but I was happy to help out. Sometimes these things need a woman’s touch… and execution plan.

So today when I get in I had 25 (YES 25!) e-mails from the dude in the German office and the 2 candidates. Basically over the course of the weekend, they’ve all changed their minds and want to do something different. Keep in mind this is after I told them that once booked, the tickets were non changeable and non refundable. In simple terms, all that work Friday afternoon AND EVENING was for nothing.

Now that’s just one tiny part of Shit Tank Day!

Further more, I find out I can’t use the Bank’s ‘Special’ account direct to pay for the hotels. Now while most people would throw their hands in the air and give up, I took the screaming at my computer, slapping my stapler on my desk and swearing at my hole-punch approach. This seemed to work and I found my solution. The candidates can pay and invoice the bank back. (There was no option, I told them, not asked!) Ah yes, but now they want particular hotels and transfers. Go figure I guess…

No, No, No! Day in the Shit Tank isn’t completed yet!

There is a London Dude flying to Germany tomorrow and for some reason I can’t seem to check him in online. Bit odd considering I could check everyone else in but oh well, shit happens on Shit Tank Day. I rang Lufthansa to try and solve the mystery. Well I never! I got some little whore who thought she would give me some lip. (I say whore but by her tone and the fact she had her nose so far up her ass she could smell the inside of her bellybutton, it’s more likely she’s virgin.) She was so rude it’s inconceivable. She couldn’t help me at all and she huffed down the phone at me. Yes, the little 2 bit Telephone bitch huffed at me. No one huffs at me! No one huffs at me and get s away with it. No one huffs at me on Shit Tank Day and has a job at the end of it. (What followed doesn’t need to be shared. Lets just say German’s unemployment tally may have just gone up by one) she asked for it so I don’t feel guilty. I await their response!

Now it’s 15.30. The day still has 2hrs in it. I still need to confirm these Hong Kong flights, sort hotels, check the London guy in (some how,) sort out a conference call and waiting on other numerous things including 2 cases of water, 1 case of Coke Zero and a response of Lufthansa. And before you ask, yes I will stop to write a blog because if I didn’t I would be under my desk rocking and pleading for the men in the white coats to take me away already.

Happy Shit Tank Day Everyone!

Wednesday, 6 May 2009

Baby Baby. BUT NOT I!

Yesterday I found out that one of my good friends is with Child. This is wonderful news that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She is recently married and already has one beautiful little girl; this second little bub will complete their set.

But it got me thinking. What about Justin and myself? I’m but a mere young lady of 22 and I’m really not ready to take our relationship to that level. It’s not that we don’t see a long future together. It’s more that we’re a pair of wild cats who really shouldn’t be having kittens for fear of ruining the local natural habitat. The thought of a mini me scares the hell out of me. I can barely look after myself, let-alone a child. However it’s all well and good me making a decision not to have kids now but what about my other half? He’s 31, what happens if he wants babies soon?

When I got home he was playing his guitar and I told him the good news about my friend. His reaction, “Cool.”
Okay, not quite what I was expecting but hey, he’s in the music zone so I’ll allow it. He doesn’t much respond when he’s playing guitar. He tends to just nod and smile a lot (at the music, not at me.) So I continued with my ramblings. He’s very easy to talk too when he’s only half listening.
“You don’t want one either do you? I’m not ready for that.”
He stopped playing. HE STOPPED PLAYING. He only stops playing when he has something of importance or interest to add to the one sided conversation. “HELL NO! I don’t want kids till I’m at least 40! Maybe older! I’ll have kids when I’m a rock star and can afford a full time nanny. She can wear short skirts. It’ll be great.” He then smiled his ‘music smile’ and went back playing and nodding his head.
Okay, not the reaction I was expecting from a man who is in his 30s. Sure I want to wait but I don’t want to wait that long.
“When you’re 40, I’ll be 31! I’ll be old!”
Once again he stopped playing and I realised what I had just said.
“Oh cheers, Miss. Barely-legal-22. What the hell am I then?”
(I take my shovel and I dig, dig, dig, I dig, dig, dig. I dig, dig, dig.)

”I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I want have babies around the 28 mark.”
“How old will I be then?” By this point he’d put the guitar down completely. We were in full conversation mode. Oh-O SPAGHETTI-O’S! I had to answer, 28? Quick, how old would he be?
At this point we both consulted our fingers and I beat him to the answer, “You’ll be 37ish.”
“37! That’s just around the corner!”
“No it’s not! It’s over 6 years away.”
“Yeah, 6 years! That’s only 2 Rugby World Cups Away!”
Que awkward silence (He takes his shovel and he dig, dig, digs. He dig, dig, digs. He dig, dig, digs.)
I asked him, “You measure your life in Rugby World Cups?”

He picked up his guitar and started strumming the Lullaby he wrote for me back when I was Miss. Barely-Legal-19. He smiled that ‘music smile’ and mused, “And seeing as South Africa was banned for all those years, that makes me younger than you.”
If only my life line was that simple…

Tuesday, 5 May 2009

Post-It-Note: More money than sense

I love competitions! I love free competitions to be more precise. The thought of getting something for nothing really does tickle my insides. Even if the chances are 1 million: 1, I still enter.

Quite some time ago I entered a competition run by Post-It-Note. It was a Deal or No Deal theme competition. Basically you logged onto the website and entered the barcode number from your Post-IT-Note product. ‘The Bank’ would then give you an offer. My offer was 1p. You can imagine my disappointment. So I hit the ‘NO DEAL!’ What was in my box? What I had I passed up 1p for? A whole whopping 2p!! WOOHOO I hit the jackpot. I was bored and just exited the stupid competition. I completely forgot that I had entered my details before opening my box (that sounds sexual… it’s not. I have thought of 101 things I could follow that sentence with BUT I won’t. I have family who read this!)

Months passed and I didn’t think much of if. Until last Friday that is when I received a letter from Mr. Post-It-Note. Now you’d think that Mr. Post-It-Note would stop and question things before writing out cheques. Much to my boyfriend’s amusement and my astonishment, I had received a cheque for 2p! That’s £0.02 or in AUD for those based in distant lands AUD$0.0406 or in simple terms we can all Understand, A WHOLE HEAP OF NOTHING! I mean really… WTF! Because stuff like this only happens to me!

It’s the gods doing it. “Let’s make the weird and funny stuff happen to her so she can write about it.” Oh yeah, by the way, I had another bug go up my nose on weekend. Justin as my witness, although his testimony wouldn’t stand up in a court of law, he had flipping tears in eyes from laughing so hard. My new life motto: BECAUSE STUFF LIKE THIS ONLY HAPPENS TO ME!

I have scanned and attached my letter and cheque for 2p. What I love is the wording, “Spend it however you wish!” Why on earth would I spend it? That amount, I could bank it and live off the interest. Heck, that’s my kids college fund right there! Gees, thanks Mr. Post-It-Notes!!! I’m sorted for life! Yeah!

It then goes on to tell me, “Have you got what it takes to tell the banker where to stick it?” Not sure if I have the balls for that, but I do have the balls to bank the cheque and make you pay £15 in processing fees! Can’t wait to see the teller’s face!!

Friday, 1 May 2009

German Desk Exercises!

Sometimes, just sometimes, you come across a picture that makes you go WTF! I got a brochure from work today. ‘Reducing the Risk of Occupational Injury’ it’s a reverting read about stretching and sitting properly at your desk. While flipping through the book I came to some exercises that were demonstrated by pictures.

I don’t know, maybe it’s just me but I find these pictures quite questionable and rather amusing. So for your pleasure and light afternoon giggle I give you German Desk Exercises!

I think you need a partner for this one

Take your left hand and place it on your head. Using your right hand follow the arrow motion back and forth.