Monthly Archive for October, 2008

Trying to Look Hot at Exes Wedding Update

Meh. It is not going so well. I have been sick a couple of times this month, which has put everything out of whack. Mostly because 1) I don’t exercise when sick 2) I eat whatever the hell I feel like when sick. This is mostly lollies, ice-cream, Rice Bubbles and Thai.

I had a month off from Booty Camp this month but I am back at it for November. It is the only way I can get my cardio. Treadmill is so booooooring. So that’ll make it 6 months worth of Boot Camp this year. You would think I would be better at running, but no. I mean, I am marginally better and I can run the 2km fitness test without walking but I am nearly always last and ALWAYS get a stitch. However I kick arse on the push-ups, on my toes thank you very much. My best is 53 in a minute. I am inordinately proud of this as when I started in January I couldn’t even do one on my toes.

However in my booty camp hiatus I have gutsed up and ventured into the weights area of the gym, rather than hiding out in group fitness classes. I am quite liking it, cos it is more versatile. My weights look pissy compared to the hulks out there but I don’t care. I also look like a poser wearing my engagement/wedding ring while I work out but it is just the vibe is very….’prowly’.

So with 4 weeks left to go I have 4 kilos left to go. I am not liking those odds. But as they say muscle weighs more than fat blah, blah blah and all my measurements are going up/down in the appropriate places and I am getting some shoulder definition. Yay! I will see if doing Boot Camp with weight training changes anything. (Yeah, as well as whatever crap I am stuffing into my fat mouth!)

Wish me will-power!

So Hard To Be So Hot

Published on October 28, 2008 in Married Life and Queen Me. 0 Comments

I was having a coffee with a friend on Sunday afternoon and we were discussing what was appropriate to talk about in front of a gentleman.

Me? I have no qualms about talking about anything and everything in front of anyone. I am possibly the most embarrassingly open person, especially when it comes to talking about bodily functions. (However I firmly believe this crassness is offset by my general charm, intelligence and good looks)

I mean, come on – I love the fact that certain foods effect your wee. My personal favourites are: asparagus wee (mmm, enjoy that asparagus all over again!), Weeties wee (anything with a lot of wheat does it to me) and mocha wee. Don’t bother telling me about Vitamin B wee – too obvious.

Now, not suprisingly – me and my Beloved have only one vestige of mystery in our 9 year relationship. We have NEVER peed or otherwise in front of each other. I won’t say I haven’t threatened to pee on his foot in the shower, but I haven’t dared as he has an advantage with appendage accuracy.

I just really enjoy bodily functions – I’m not very sophisticated like that. The height of hilarity for me? If I need a good knee-slapping, fall-about laugh I can either:

a) back up and ‘let fluffy off the chain’ on said Beloved

b) work up a ‘rat’ (archaic family phrasing for passing wind…I’d like to hear other alternatives if you have any) and then at the correct moment produce an elegant arabesque

c) witness my Beloved fall over in a funny but non-injurious manner. (Yes, I do enjoy Funniest Home Videos)

But I digress – back to the never having peed in front of each other bit. (I guess the ‘Appropriate Topics of Conversation With a Gentleman’ post will have to wait till another time) I guess the closest I have come is when I had a problem with my eye and had to have an image of the retina taken. This meant I was injected with a dye which turned me and my urine the most violent shade of fluorescent yellow you have ever seen. The following conversation ensued:

‘Oi – come and look at my pee’ (I was not on the toilet at the time BTW)

‘No’

‘Come on! It’s crazy – it has stained the bowl’

‘I will not look at your pee!’

‘I’ll turn the light off and we can see if it glows!’

Geez. Not one for living on the edge is he? So I am left to wonder when the day will come that our last vestige of mystery is ripped away. Childbirth maybe?

Boo!

Published on October 25, 2008 in Can't be bothered categorising, Cranky/Dopey Bitch and Teaching. 3 Comments

Pranks. Let’s talk about them. I love a good prank. Though my most imaginative would involve jumping out at unsuspecting bathroom users (ie my sister or husband), which would often lose effect as I would hide behind the wall trying to hide my snorts of laughter thinking of the mischief I was about to wreak.

I think I have one of those faces. I am always getting mean things done to me. Or perhaps it is because I give the reaction the prankster is looking for, you know, lots of giggling, screeching, finger pointing, foot stamping and tear wiping. At my current place of work I am the prime target for the Resident Eccentric Teacher. He is a true master of shit-stirring. And the thing is, it is all so effortless. He doesn’t even wrinkle a brow thinking of evil things to do to me – they are as natural to him as interfering with small animals. Some examples:

Note on whiteboard we have to book the TV (I had planned my lessons about 4 weeks in advance so had therefore booked 4 weeks worth of TV on the whiteboard) ‘Dear Miss Bee. Other people in this department need to use the audio visual equipment and your hoarding of it is selfish. Mr T’ Resident Eccentric Teacher sufficed to say is NOT Mr T. Luckily my boss dobbed on RET before me and Mr T had a bit of biffo.
After being given a relief lesson of year 8 Science, 5 minutes into the lesson RET wanders in. ‘Are they all settled?’ They were, after a good deal of animal wrangling. ‘Oh good,’ he says. ‘This is actually my class’ The bastard had liquid papered out his name on the relief slip and put mine on.
When I showed up to his class to ask him something: ‘Now Miss Bee, you’re not here to flirt with me are you?’ and then as I am standing next to him he jumps three feet with an indignant ‘Miss Bee!’ like I had just pinched him on the arse.
He has also sends students to me, getting them to show me their work (usually the non English speaking ones) and I am just sitting there going ‘Oh, that’s a lovely coloured in vegetation map of Australia!’ RET will later come in sniggering ‘You could at least have given her a sticker!’
One day I took his classes while he was away. He was not impressed with the result. ‘There is such a thing as subtlety Miss Bee!’ he harrumphed. Hey – I never said I was sophisticated. I don’t have his mental acuity when it comes to practical jokes. Instead I totally rearranged his class, putting his desk in the middle of the room and arranging the desks around it, as well as hiding various items. He was not pleased but the year 11s who helped me do it had a ball.
On what was supposedly my last day at the school I got given a relief lesson by the young science teacher. Who had instructed the class to be as feral as possible. So while I am trying to stop one kid drawing penises on the white-board and get the rest of them to reconcile themselves with making a poster instead of chanting ‘video, video’ he is hiding in the doorway pissing himself laughing.

I was not safe at my first job either.

The warehouse boys said ‘Bee – hold this for a second’ handing me an end of the human sized roll of industrial glad wrap (what is that in US speak? Saran?) I held it and they ran around me, wrapping me up. Then I got thrown in the bin.
Baz would tape down the..what do call it? The ‘hang up’ button on the phone. So it would ring and you’d pick it up…except the phone would keep ringing.
John came over to lay-by to take a BBQ that was being picked up out to a customer. He was trying to move it and I was all, get a trolley, that is too heavy, as he pushes it along. THEN, he is trying to pick it up, and then he DOES, bent knees, back bent, grunting and I am crapping….until he starts doing press ups with it. Yup – empty box.

I got plenty more from RET and my Kmart days but this post is too long already and that sorta sums up how exciting my weekend has been! I have also noticed that most bloggers do not post on the weekend, even though I feel it is prime blog reading time – especially since I can no longer waste tax payers money and do it at work. Do these people have….lives, or something??

Tact and Discretion

Published on October 23, 2008 in Cranky/Dopey Bitch and Queen Me. 4 Comments

So far a lot of my post ideas have come from what Nathan and Nat talk about on their morning radio show. Last week’s segment of ‘How Awkward’ brought back to memory one very awkward moment of mine.

Let me set the scene. 6 years ago myself, my sister and a red-haired friend were sharing a house in Bentley. I was back at uni, and red-haired friend was working shift work as a printer. It was a fun time, bit of a party house in a clean and well-managed way.

At this time sis had a best friend who I didn’t like very much. Let’s call her Italian-chick-who-at-26-still-lived-at-home. Sis and ICWA@26SLAH were going clubbing. I was on the couch in my trackie dacks and so was sis. Beloved might’ve been on the couch with us too.

‘Oi sis!’ I said

‘What?’ she replied

‘Isn’t it time you got ready to go out?’

‘Spose’ she said

‘Well hurry up. I don’t wanna be stuck entertaining ICWA@26SLAH when you’re in the shower’.

Instead of sis answering there was a prompt ‘knock-knock’ on the open screen door. I am sure my face would’ve made a good advertisement for the Mastercard ‘priceless’ ads. I mouthed a swear word, leapt off the couch and ran into my bedroom and hid under the doona. I stayed there for two hours. Beloved brought me my dinner, smirking away while I grimaced in mortification.

The next day sis said she asked ICWA@26SLAH if she had heard me, and she said she hadn’t. Which is bull-wangle. But hey, at least while she is living with mama and papa they are teaching her some manners, which is more than I can say for myself.

Why I Love my Beloved

Published on October 22, 2008 in Beloved and Married Life. 0 Comments

I write these posts, which often feature my Beloved and sometimes I feel like I’m bashing him a bit, saying he doesn’t use his brains on the weekend and is useless with a toilet brush. Unfortunately for him I’m not like some of my friends who say: “I could never say anything bad about my Beloved – I love him so much.” Maybe in the early days I might’ve been like that (but I doubt it) and early days were nine years ago. The relationship doesn’t hold too much mystery any more. Although one thing that delights me in the relationship is that my Beloved can still surprise me with things I don’t know about him. Like the fact that he too as a child watched The Mysterious Cities of Gold on ABC but no-one else seems to have.

My favourite story about how my Beloved surprises me was when I was trawling the supermarket aisles looking for a cereal that my Beloved wouldn’t demolish as an afternoon snack. So definitely no Coco Pops. So I’m pushing the trolley thinking ‘What is the most unattractive cereal known to man?’ I considered All Bran. I know it’s an old person’s cereal – I got a taste for it when my Gran came over from England when I was 7. I ended up going with Puffed Wheat. No sugary coating or chocolate milkshake making abilities. So I get my little box of cardboard parcels of wheaty goodness and place them in the cupboard. When Beloved comes home, he throws open the cupboard door in search of his prey, his razor keen eyes honing in on the newly procured cereal.

“Puffed Wheat!” he exclaims “I LOVE Puffed Wheat”

But I digress. I want this to be a post proclaiming my undying love and adoration for my Beloved. But sweet Jesus, after 9 years of lulling me into a false sense of security, he has taken to eating noisily and snoring. I am serious when I tell you this. Bee’s prerequisites for dating a man:

Eats quietly
Does not snore
Does not smoke

If he takes up the third I know he’s trying to get rid of me. If he had done the first on our initial date we wouldn’t have gone past dinner at that café in Applecross and going to the movies to see Ed. He is very lucky that I love him and I am bonded to him in many ways, one of which involves a shiny ring.

My Beloved is my best friend. I don’t want to take the romance out of it but you have to be friends despite the highs and lows of…..stuff. I like that I like doing things with him, vertically and otherwise. Just the other day I was helping him put up a shelf in the shed (which I undoubtedly whined about) but I also thought: ‘I like this aspect of our relationship, doing things, him being handy, showing me stuff.’ He is very patient and calm, with the occasionally muttered ‘muppet’. He is a good teacher, although I have a problem with what I sometimes consider ‘being told what to do’, so him teaching me can get a bit hairy at times.

My Beloved is very cuddly. W always like to hug and kiss and nibble each other. We’d be the 2 monkeys picking critters out of each other’s back hair. I like that we still hold hands in public and say ‘I love you’ every day.

My Beloved is awfully cheeky. Moreso because I am so easy to bait. I always jump to conclusions, make assumptions, get heated up before seeing the evil glint in his eyes and little fishing rod reeling gestures he is making while my head spins around Exorcist fashion. But in some sick way I don’t mind being teased – if you tease me, it means you like me.

My Beloved is generous to a fault, buying me what my heart desires (well except copious clothes and shoes!) I am easy to please -a book here, a book there. Once he tried to buy some time on his computer by buying me 6 books. He thought he’d get at least 2 weeks reprieve. Yeah, try 2 days. Nice tactic though. He will always lend money to a friend in need and will often pick up the bill when out with friends.

My Beloved is driven. What he wants he gets. He proves that hard work and determination will get you what you want and where you want. I am a bit (well, okay, a lot) of a plodder and a dreamer. It is very exciting to be with someone who can actually make things happen. I’m surprised we didn’t win Lotto on the weekend through the sheer force of his will.

My Beloved looks after me. When I am sick (once every 4 years) he will bring me cough medicine in bed, as well as something to wash the taste away with. (My sympathy when he’s sick consists of ‘Suck it up Princess’) If I’m feeling a bit down he’ll clean the whole kitchen and make me a gourmet pizza. If I’m craving a hazelnut roll he’ll go and buy me one. He pats my hair when I ask and will get me a drink of water when I’m tucked up in bed and he’s just about to get in and I open an eye and bleat sleepily ‘canoogetdmeadrinkowadda?’

And he loves me. The double-standards-blog-writing-unbutton-your-damn-shirts-when-you-take-them-off-hello-this-is-called-a-toilet-brush-not-this-month-honey-I-have-a-headache-buy-me-a-present-pedantic-to-the-extreme Bee.

Wil Anderson Has Happy Feet

Published on October 21, 2008 in Cranky/Dopey Bitch and Pop Culture. 2 Comments

I wrote this a while ago but I thought I would stick it up in honour of Wil Anderson having been back in Perth last week.

I went to see Wil Anderson on Saturday night. Bit embarrassing to admit but I am a live comedy show virgin. I’ve seen the Melbourne Comedy Festival stuff on TV though. But the live show was great and I must say I thoroughly enjoyed myself. It was funny, crass and surprisingly intelligent. If only he could have fitted a fart joke in there it would have been perfect.

Okay, here comes my whinge. I am a teacher but I wouldn’t say I’m a prude. And I know everyone there was pretty much a grown up – in physical age if not mental. So what the fuck is with all the dropping of the f-bomb? Look, I believe that a well timed fuck can add comedic value….but every second word? It loses its edge after a while.

And I think it could have been a lot more entertaining if Ando the Comedy Commando could have though of some alternatives to the over-used fuck. Let’s try this out:

Fuck	Fuck Alternative
Fuck	Bugger/bother/fiddlesticks/dagnabbit
Fucking	Freaking/frigging/bloody
Get fucked	Get stuffed
Fuck off	Piss off/rack off/go away please

If anyone has anything to add, please comment – I would really like to expand our non-fuck vocabulary. It will be especially valuable to me as an English teacher.

I mean, I try and teach my students that it is not socially acceptable to use that sort of language but here it is, socially accepted. And I am not afraid to admit that that does not sit well with me.

Argh – that reminds me - those ads on the radio that think they are being cool and edgy by having a whole lot of swearing and bleeping it out – puh-lease. It is not cool, it just shows that your advertising team is an unimaginative bunch of fuck-wits doodle-whackers.

Swear as much as you like in your own, home, with your family (grandparents especially) and friends, but in the public forum? I don’t agree.

Wil Anderson, I enjoyed your show, but the F word doesn’t make you a hard-arsed mother funky monkey. Your social insights, intelligence and sexy thongs do.

PS: I watched George Miller on Enough Rope last night. He basically said that the only worthwhile culture in Australia is the indigenous culture – everything else is borrowed. Which I suppose is true. But does it mean we have to Americanise ourselves? The reason I mention this is because his view-point perturbed me, as well as, the last 5 seconds of Wil’s performance, as linked to in my intro, sort of illustrates the lack of a deep culture in Australia.

Three’s a Crowd

Published on October 19, 2008 in Can't be bothered categorising and Queen Me. 3 Comments

Once upon a time I had a friend who told me: ‘My partner thinks you’re pretty alright. He said if we were gonna have a threesome, you’d be his choice!’

I was very flattered, but do you know what my first thoughts were? I know they weren’t:

‘Oh dear – I would never consider such a proposition – it goes against every fibre of my moral being!’

It was more like:

‘Hell no! I don’t want <anonymous female friend> to see my cellulite-y arse!’

I think that sums up female attitudes to each other. More worried about what other girls think.

Girls, as a generalised rule, are critical about other female’s appearances – what they wear, their weight etc. And in turn, most females are paranoid about their own appearance. Although I must admit the bitching and the worrying has eased off a bit in the last few years. Now that I am confident, can I please have my 21 year old figure back? Pleeeeease?

My dad always used to tell me and sis that females dressed for each other rather than males. As I grew older, I realised it was true. How else do you explain ‘fashion’? Most guys certainly don’t like or get it.

To illustrate my point about myself caring more about what girls think, out of the friends I have surveyed, most have snogged another girl. I haven’t. I won’t say I’m not curious but when drunk and faced with the proposition – I can’t – I am too mired in thoughts of ‘OMG – I haven’t snogged another person other than my Beloved for aaaaages. What If I’m crap? What if I’ve got bad breath? So imagine the paranoia infused quagmire of self-doubt I would face if approached with a threesome!

But I have noticed my thoughts are different on female-to-male contact. In that I don’t doubt myself. Who cares if my bum looks like two cats fighting in a sack – this bloke is lucky, nay blessed, to be receiving such goods as myself! And if the breath isn’t minty fresh? Too bad! (And keep the tongue to yourself until I deem it necessary.)

I think I think too much……and I haven’t even discussed whether or not kissing a female whilst in a relationship is considered cheating. (I believe most men would say no…but only if they were present and perhaps equipped with a handycam)

Bored and Full of Boogers on a Friday Night

Published on October 17, 2008 in Can't be bothered categorising, Cranky/Dopey Bitch, Pop Culture and Teaching. 7 Comments

Went to the dentist again today. He is still hot. Isn’t there a law against that? Should be.
I haven’t watched a lot of this Aussie show but what I have seen is freakin’ funny. It is also so true it makes me cringe. I wish I farted on students.
This is funny/random.
Had mega-gourmet nachoes for dinner. Dammit – how do you make nachos a plural? I thought it was like mangoes.
I have this song running through my fevered mind, cept it goes: ‘I’ve Got the Mucous In Me’

Needing the Love

Published on October 16, 2008 in Cranky/Dopey Bitch and Queen Me. 4 Comments

Come on you little, buggers, I know you’re out there, lurking around. I have finally learned how to check my blog stats by myself . Come on, don’t be shy. Say hello, let me know where you are from, what your favourite colour is, or perhaps what you are wearing. No – on second thoughts, don’t do that.

Validate meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

PS: New post below, just in case you thought this whiny need for acknowledgment was it.

The Puss Next Door

Published on October 16, 2008 in Beloved and Fur Baby. 0 Comments

We have some nice next door neighbours. Not that the Born Again Christians who never walk their dog so it barks ALL the time, especially at Bee’s allocated 4ish nanna nap time aren’t okay. But these ones on the other side are such an improvement on the previous tenants. There was a guy who would go on some sort of bender which would cause him to go into the back yard and scream ‘I am God’ at the top of his lungs. Hmm. Maybe he and the Born Agains should have got together.

Our new neighbours are around our age and have made their front garden pretty, which we appreciate. They have a cute staffy called Abby and the most adorable cat called Austen. Now I am not a cat person. Kittens are okay because they are playful. But grown cats are all ‘Whatever, leave a message and I’ll get back to you.’ But this cat – he is HILarious. He is an Abyssinian and looks like a jungle cat, all sleek and powerful, in miniature.

The first time I met him, he was quite little and had jumped over the fence and couldn’t get back over. I tried to help him but he wouldn’t let me near him. That same day I happened to see this cat sitting on our very skinny kitchen window ledge, bat the fly-screen and promptly fall off sideways. I gotta love a slapstick cat.

Once when we were gardening, Beloved had left the back door open and Austen came over to play. And then he got inside. We checked all the rooms but he didn’t seem to be inside anymore. Half an hour after we had finished gardening and had showered and settled in for some TV, we heard an odd noise. It was Austen climbing the fly-screen in the laundry, trying to make a bid for freedom. On one occasion he has also quickly ducked into the garage as we were pulling out, so we have had to get out of the car, open the garage and let him out again.

One night after I visited my dad for dinner Austen came to say hi to me, as I was getting out of the car. I had a few things in my arms but I still picked him up for a cuddle, except he had a different idea. So there I was standing in my driveway with leftovers in one hand, handbag in the other and a small cat perched on my head.

This cat has obviously grown up with Abby so he has no qualms about hopping the fence and coming to play with Theo. He will poke his head around the spa to see if Theo is paying attention and if Theo doesn’t see him, he will parade right in front of him until he plays the game, which involves Austen wriggling on his back, rubbing against Theo, sticking his tail under Theo’s nose and giving him a good swiping if Theo gets too playful.

Austen also likes to mince along the top of the fence to tantalise Theo. One day Beloved picked him up off the fence and dangled him in front of our tail wagging frenzy of an Airedale. That was funny in itself because Beloved is so allergic to cats and I have never seen him within 20 metres of one, let alone pick one up. The next funny thing about this was Beloved saying, ‘Sweetie, listen to this! Can you hear the noise Austen is making?’ and I sidle up for a listen and nearly fall over laughing. ‘Beloved’ I snigger ‘that is called purring.’