Archive for the 'Fur Baby' Category

Cycles

Published on February 22, 2010 in Beloved, Books n Stuff, Depression, Fur Baby, Married Life and Teaching. 10 Comments

Tired. So, so tired.

Just want to nap. Don’t want to go that place where I like my colleagues and love the kids but hate that 90% of the lil buggers couldn’t give a crap about learning anything.

I want to stay home with my puppy and have cups of tea and lemon curd on toast. I want a leisurely morning at the gym and an afternoon of fixing up my novel, with a nap thrown in for good measure. Then there would be a nice dinner with Beloved and in the cool of the evening we would take Theo for walkies where he would sniff and wee on everything and we would narrate his thoughts: ‘This is mine, and this is mine – ooh – and this too!’

Regardless, I will plod through the next five weeks, till 2 weeks of toast and naps and writing make me forget about the apathy of teenagers until we do it all again.

Is this really my 8th year of doing this?

Just a Story

Published on February 19, 2010 in Can't be bothered categorising, Depression and Fur Baby. 5 Comments

When Belinda hears Chloe sobbing into the phone, hundreds of kilometres away, she knows that unlike herself Chloe does not yet have the ability not to feel anymore. But then again, Belinda wasn’t the one to get the phone call.

‘She said – she said she is really going to do it this time’ Chloe cried. Pulling her emotional blinds down quickly, and only betrayed by a slight fluttering of her heart, Belinda listened. ‘She said she has driven somewhere, where we won’t be able to find her. She is in the car and she has a hose and she has taken pills – ‘ Chloe stops to take a shuddering breath.

They both know if she was really going to do it she wouldn’t make the call. She wants to be saved. But by being saved she wants to be looked after, cosseted, coddled and cocooned. She doesn’t want to learn, understand, look after herself.

She won’t call Belinda because she won’t cry, get distraught. Belinda will tell her off, call her out for her manipulation. Tell her to get proper help, call the police.

Belinda hangs up the phone, while Chloe calls their father. She wonders if maybe, really, this is finally it.

What I’m Doing Riiiight Now

Published on October 16, 2009 in Beloved, Can't be bothered categorising, Fur Baby, Lazy Bitch and Pop Culture. 2 Comments

Listening to Glee songs. How much do I love that show? LOTS. Nearly as much as Ugly Betty and True Blood. Heroes has fallen out of favour a bit cos they put it on at stupid times
Squinting at the TV while searching for shows to download on Apple TV. I need glasses cos our TV is stupid huge. Blind bitch.
Needing to go to the loo. Had Hungry Jacks for dinner. Gets things moving it does!
Enjoying the gorgeous Spring weather – FINALLY! 32 degrees today but without the ‘built up’ heat you get if it is that hot in the middle of summer.
Cursing the Spring weather that brought out the flying ants and made walkies with Theo rather annoying.
Giggling at how I watered the garden this afternoon and ‘accidentally’ hosed the kids next door who were jumping on their trampoline and screaming out Pink songs.
Going stag this weekend as husband is doing army stuff in Sydney. At least it means Krispy Kremes on Sunday night. Can you believe we don’t have them in Perth. BACK. WARD.

Reap What You Sow and Stuff

Published on August 24, 2009 in Books n Stuff, Can't be bothered categorising, Cranky/Dopey Bitch, Fur Baby, Queen Me and Teaching. 0 Comments

Stuff you, you little effing turds. See if I give a rat’s arse! You know what? I have a job. I have a lovely husband, a newish car, a decent house with nice furniture and gadgets aplenty. I have all the books I want and the capacity to buy more. My wardrobe is okay, I have hobbies I enjoy, friends, family and a fur-baby I love. I have been to Europe, Africa and university. And you know WHY, you hormone-filled whinge bags? BECAUSE I LISTENED TO MY TEACHERS AND DID MY SCHOOL WORK. I mean, my parents did have something to do with it but that’s a mere technicality. So. the 9 out of 31 of you who handed in your assignment – well done. May you have as nice a life as me, if not better. The rest of you? Pull a fucking finger out before it is too late. No, this assignment is NOT directly going to gainfully employ you but as I always pontificate, the motivational and thinking skills you use to get it done will.
I am watching series 1 of True Blood. Wow! Awesome, kooky, dirty and very funny. A southern Twin Peakswith vampires. Bit graphic – way too many booby shots in the first scene. Anna Paquin is nicely and very clearly characterised as sweet and strong. Though all the wide-eyed, lips-parted, lingering looks get grating after a while.
Played Wii Bowling on the weekend and sustained a hamstring injury. Dickhead.
I have never been as heavy as I am now in my life and I am not pregant nor pleased.

Did You Know…….

Published on March 29, 2009 in Beloved, Cranky/Dopey Bitch, Fighting the Fat, Fur Baby and Married Life. 8 Comments

That if you go to the movies and have a 600ml coke, a small packet of crisps, a whole packet of Starburst Squirts, 3/4’s of a packet of Jaffas and then go to Han’s and have a glass of wine and a plate of Mee Goreng, it is likely that at 3am you will be sitting on the loo, holding the bathroom bin in front of you, wondering which end is gonna explode first and feeling like you are going to pass out?

That eating a three course meal, at the gorgeous restaurant you got engaged/had your wedding reception at, and washing it down with 3/4 of a bottle of rose Moet is also going to have a similar effect?

That I love, love, love The Script’s song Break Even? I think the lyrics perfectly encapsulate the feelings you have after getting your arse dumped.

That my Beloved and I are celebrating one whole year or marriage today? And no-one is dead. That has gotta be a good start, right?

That I make silly, unthinking comments that I regret later? This particular one could actually get me into a lot of trouble, if it was passed back to the person. And I would wear it, cos it was just unthinking and inappropriate. It was meant as a joke but when it could hurt people’s feelings and affect how other’s see them, it isn’t very funny is it? Sigh. I am SUCH a dick.

That my dog is really coming along with his Jedi mind powers? He managed to get a half-full pizza box and roll of paper towels off the kitchen bench using them.

Wedding Blues

Published on March 19, 2009 in Beloved, Cranky/Dopey Bitch, Fighting the Fat, Fur Baby, Pop Culture and Queen Me. 3 Comments

I didn’t expect to feel this way. I thought if it was going to happen it would be after my wedding – two years of planning, over in a flash. Two years of day-dreams, imaginings and visions passed by in the reality of hours and minutes; smiles, hugs, kisses, champagne, sore feet and a headache. But I guess I had the honeymoon to look forward to. And then my own sister’s wedding.

Now that has been and gone, where to next?

Her wedding was lovely and she looked so beautiful. And I am not just saying that – you know what a bitch I am – if she didn’t, I would mention it. I had a great time; more than at my own wedding, just because there was less pressure and expectation. That is not to say I didn’t enjoy mine but the headache free memories and stunning photos are much more pleasant.

At my sister’s nuptials we all ate and drank, chatted, laughed, and reminisced. Some of us cried – that’s you, Stinky ya soft touch! We listened to and gave speeches, danced and ate cake. And then drank some more and danced some more. And oh yeah, Ice Ice Baby was played……twice! (I won’t mention how many times the bride stacked it over the course of the day – at last count I heard it was three, however I only saw one. Which was when she entered the reception venue, went to sit at the bridal table onto a chair…..that wasn’t there. My poor baby sis. She is still cringing about it but damn it was funny after the initial ‘OMG!’)

And then on Monday at work it hit me. There is no more. No hens night to plan and party poop at, no dress to train like a maniac to look good in, no speech to agonize over, nothing.

Yeah. I know, babies. Come on Bee, your ovaries aren’t getting any younger you know!

But rug-rats are not in our immediate (say, 9 months to start trying, the however-long-it-takes-to-try and the 9 months of baking time) future. So even though I know I have a nice full life, with wonderful friends, a lovely family, a gorgeous husband, lovable puppy, a stable job and a stocked fridge, things feel a bit bleak.

GYL* Downstairs

Published on February 15, 2009 in Beloved, Cranky/Dopey Bitch, Fur Baby, Lazy Bitch, Married Life, Pop Culture, Queen Me and Teaching. 2 Comments

I would just like to put it out to the world that I am not a hairy girl. The vegetation on my Map of Tassie is clearly within the demarcated boundaries. However according to the fashion of the times Tasmania should be a veritable wasteland of razed skin and stumpy stubble.

I am fairly lucky in that I can wear a bikini and there is generally no escaping of errant pubic hair. If sexy times are to be had, Beloved does not need an afro comb or tooth-pick to start or end any horizontal adventures.

I have always been confident in my stance of the keeping of my lady-hair. Number one: it is hard enough to keep my legs and eyebrows waxed, underarms shaved, hair (HEAD hair) coloured and cut, face made up and pretty, clothes ironed, nails neat and body relatively toned (work in progress) let alone worry about some fur on a currently severely underutilised part of my anatomy. Number two: regrowth is a bitch. I spend about 90% of my life in front of teenagers. I do NOT need to be standing in front of 30 teenagers with an itchy fanny. And let us not talk about the actual pain of the waxing, the ingrown hairs, pimples etc.

I haven’t always been so adverse to the idea of vag-scaping. I flirted with it a while back but I had a bit of an unpleasant reaction to it so I left the idea alone. And I haven’t really thought about it since. I am in a loving relationship where my partner is happy with the status-grow. I mean if he gets to keep the hair on his crack and sack, all is fair. (And that is not to say that if he did de-fuzz the beast that I would do the same. He has tried that one before. )

Due to my over-sharing nature, a number of Beloved’s friends have become apprised to the fact that I live a 70s life. Teasing me mercilessly for an hour at an engagement party was sort of funny. I was a bit tipsy and I am fun to razz because I will always rise to the bait and nothing embarrasses me. However what did shit me was that Beloved just sat there and let them do it. He claimed that I was holding my own but it would have been nice for him to chip in somewhere saying that he didn’t mind a bit of wookie action.

Fast-forward a fortnight and I am having a thoroughly pleasant night with the female halves of Beloved’s friends. There was great food, lovely wine and pleasant company- until the boys come to pick up the girls and somehow the topic of my carpeted entry-hall came up again. What annoys me in the ‘teasing’ is the comment that I don’t love my husband enough to wax it, and the idea that it is generally dirty and publicly(pubicly?) unacceptable. Huh? When did something no-one can see become such a topic of hot debate, a forum of open discussion?

I am sure I could have nipped the conversation in the bud early on, but when you’re having a laugh and a few drinks it can be difficult. The problem now being, that from an interaction slightly related to my fur-factor, I left a lovely evening in tears. I haven’t even spoken to Beloved about it, even though he listened to me sniffle for a half an hour drive. I don’t think I can. Because I don’t know whose side he is on. If it is mine he will have to acknowledge that I have issues the offender, and they are good friends. If it is NOT my side – well. A whole other can of worms isn’t it? I will have a husband who is thinking I was too sensitive, tipsy and PMS-y to boot, and may not respect that I don’t wanna interact with this dude much at present.

But whatever comes of it, there is NO chance of Beloved getting the ‘pleasure’ of seeing me looking like a pre-pubescent girl. It is the principle of the thing.

* GYL in this case standing for Grungy Yeti Locks. Sorry. It is all I could come up with after a whole day of lesson planning.

Days Like These

Published on January 2, 2009 in Books n Stuff, Fighting the Fat, Fur Baby, Lazy Bitch and Pop Culture. 0 Comments

Barring the three years I worked at the Mart of K I have always had Summer off, which of course, is freaking fantastic. I look back, thinking I could still be stuck in that crap awful office job, which means I would be working RIGHT NOW and I shudder. Thank God for getting fired.

Today was the kind of day that I will have at least a few of in my holidays. I sleep in until about 9:40 and poor Theo starts barking for his breakfast. I feed him, make myself some porridge, which I eat in front of the lap-top, checking my Facebook and my favourite blogs. I do the dishes, and start preparing the house for a clean, since our cleaner is on holidays (I could do it myself and save thousands in a year, but I figure it is cheaper than marriage counselling we would need because Beloved denies the existence of that cleaning implement called a dunny brush.)

In between all this I stop for little breaks to read Girls in Pants, the third instalment of the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pantsseries, having read the first 2 in the previous 3 days. I know I am 30 but geez I adore these books. I have read them all about 4 times each. Sure they are aimed at a teen audience, but they are so well written, full of gentle wisdom, teen angst, burgeoning sexuality – I just love them. Ann Brashares captures being a girl (of any age) in a romantically hopeful yet realistic way.

So in between reading, I clean, have some lunch, drink lots of water, finally shower at 3:30 and finish my book by 4:00 and start flirting with the final in the series. Beloved comes home to find me on my reading couch in the kitchen nook. I cook dinner early as I am starving. (My personal training and boot camp starts next week and my trainer wants a food diary. So I am trying to behave.) I retire to my study to give it a cursory clean so that I can write a plan of what I intend to do with the next four weeks, tomorrow. It will involve cleaning out of cupboards, planning of lessons, weeding of garden beds, creation of healthy meals and writing of novels.

I will have a couple of more days like the above, though they may vary. I might go to the gym, clean out the cutlery drawer. Iron while watching Ugly Betty or Heroes on DVD. The other days will be full to bursting with the doing of the aforementioned planning, although I won’t pretend there won’t be some procrastination in the form of the 6 books I got for Christmas. They are my ‘work’ days. But I liked today because I was allowed to sleep in. I didn’t have to do anything, which made it easier to actually do something. Reverse psychology for the easily de-motivated.

I love days like these.

PS: Random aside – we recently watched Hellboy 2. And who plays the villain Prince Nuada? Luke Goss. From Bros. I could NOT believe it. I didn’t even know he was an actor! Those were the days. Bros, NKOTB, Indecent Obsession. Sigh.

PPS: Days LIke These – the name of this post and a great song by Cat Empire. My favourite by them is Hello. Give them a listen/watch.

Grumpy Young Lady’s School of Housewifery

Published on November 28, 2008 in Beloved, Fur Baby, Lazy Bitch and Married Life. 2 Comments

‘Sweetie, can you do me favour?’ asks Beloved over the phone.

‘What is it first?’ I ask in turn, somewhat crankily.

‘Can you iron 3 of my shirts for the bike show this weekend, the yellow ones?’

‘All right’ I huff, keeping firmly in mind the surprise mini-holiday Beloved is taking me on next week.

The shirts are pretty hard to iron so I sprayed them with a bit of water and stuck them in the dryer for a quick spin. When they came out they didn’t even need ironing! But since I had already got the iron, ironing board and coat-hangers out I couldn’t let them go to waste. So I put the shirts on the hangers, and left them hanging off the end of the ironing board.

‘Are they okay?’ I asked Beloved nonchalantly, as he packed them away.

‘Yup, they are great thanks’ he says with a kiss on the cheek.

Who is a good little housewife then? However, karma was swift in telling this lazy bitch not to get to cocky. After Beloved had left for the bike show I discovered our fur baby had a shit-covered poop hole. Do you know how hard it is to clean a dog’s bum by yourself, when he is big, hairy and unwilling?

When Scottie Dogs Attack

Published on November 26, 2008 in Fur Baby. 6 Comments

Cutest thing I have seen in a while. Beloved will have to watch out. Seems big, boofy ol’ airedales can handle lil dogs in a gentle(ish) manner. Bring on the daschoodle.