Bacon Clafoutis

Creeps at the Gym: An Illustrated Guide

2012-02-11T23:37:00.000+11:00

In case anyone had ANY doubt in their mind.... yes, I have been spending too much time at the gym lately. And yes, I am becoming my own special variety of gym creep...

#1: 'The Starer'

There are few things in this world more offputting than being watched. The Starer does not need to say anything, they don't need to do anything. It's their unknown thoughts and intentions that make it so goddamn creepy.

Gyms can be dangerous places for The Starer: there are mirrors everywhere. I am running on the treadmill. I have a funny feeling I'm being watched. I look up, around, scan the gym. Nope, can't see anyone. Then my eyes fall on the mirror a few metres in front of me.... and.....Bingo. 6 o'clock. Some dude standing behind me, staring at either the majesty of my sweat-dripping ponytail or my ass. Cool.

But this is ambiguous: perhaps I have sat in a brownie and have an unfortunate stain on my backside (it wouldn't be the first time). I am willing to give this fellow the benefit of the doubt and move on.

BUT! Sometimes The Starer is more undeniably creepy. Sometimes I am on the elliptical or something and the person on the machine next to me has their head fully turned - Exorcist style - to watch me as I huff and puff and sweat and drool. Drool? Oh, you better believe it.

Sometimes I will be stretching on a mat and somebody will come and sit down a few feet away from me. And...watch. Not do anything. Not even PRETEND like they're sitting there for a reason. Not even make vague, token gestures like trying to touch their toes or examining a skin growth on their leg. They just.....watch.

But perhaps the worst is when they stare from afar. That's when I feel the most vulnerable and powerless. When they're close by - when I can keep them in my line of vision - I feel safer, more in control. When they're moving around, watching from different distances, spaces, areas, angles, I feel like I'm in The Truman Show.... never sure what exactly they're seeing, but always aware of their eyes burning holes in my brownie-stained butt.

#2: 'The Snoop'

This is just one step before 'The Copycat' (see below). This is the person who feels like your speed, distance, calories burned, weight, level, or reading material is their business. Or even worth looking at. Let me tell you this: It is not that interesting. I have no secrets. I am reading National Geographic. It is level 9. Speed is 12km/hour. Weight is 35kg. I have burned 118 calories. I have travelled 3.2kms. You're welcome.

Keep your eyes on your own work. And while you're at it? INSIDE VOICES AND EAT YOUR GREENS.

#3: 'The Copycat'

It makes me wonder just how far they'd go...

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. It's also among the sincerest forms of being a creep. 'The Copycat' is the climax of 'The Starer' and 'The Snoop'. It is where these two lesser forms of creep reach their peak.

Gym Copycat behaviour ranges from simply upping their treadmill speed to match the person next to them, all the way to following someone around the facilities, mimicking their exercises, stretches, and even mannerisms.

One time, a woman rode a stationary bike next to me, increasing the level each time I did. If I took a break to stretch, she took a break to stretch. If I took a sip from my drink bottle, she did too. Nearing the end of my workout, I hung my towel (read: festering rag of sweat) around my neck. She got up, walked to reception, asked to borrow a towel, came back, AND HUNG IT AROUND HER NECK.*
* but hers was not at all sweaty, nor was it festering. Check-flippin'-mate, Madame Creepazoid.

This is obviously on the extreme end of the copycat spectrum, but it was also fairly harmless. What is more alarming is when people copy specific exercises/repetitions/weights, without considering that they may be individual/sport/whatever specific. What works for me is not necessarily going to work for you: it may not be in line with your goals or abilities at all. There is a fine line between learning by observation and just being a dumbass. One size does not fit all and blindly copying someone in the gym is potentially dangerous.

^^^^ Do you see what I did up there?? I legitimised my petty gripe by masking it as concern for their safety and wellbeing. This is true, but mostly you are just frikkin' weird and creepy. Stop it.

#4: 'The Sex Face/Noise Maker'

This is perhaps (perhaps...more on this later) the least maliciously creepy - it usually seems to be unintentional and purely impulsive. An uncontrollable reaction to intense physical exertion. Despite that, it is the most outwardly offputting - the gym behaviour that is probably capable of making the largest number of people possible feel really, REALLY uncomfortable. It's noisy, it's distracting.... and it's repulsive (unless you're equally creepy, in which case you might find it a turn-on).

The thing that is the most bothersome about Sex Face/Noise Makers is the possibility that it is not an innocent and uncontrollable behaviour, like a nervous tick. It's disturbing to think that they are, perhaps, deriving some sort of sexual pleasure from exercise, the gym environment, or their fellow gym-goers. With every rep, they appear more excited, more intensely focused, more.... aroused?

I am all for exercise as a feel-good outlet. But when I'm worried you're going to ejaculate all over the weights rack? That's creepy. And unsanitary.

#5: 'The Pervert' and 'The Pervee'

I'm sorry to stereotype, but it really is hard to imagine a pervert without a not-very-well-thought-out beard...

These two types have a beautiful and harmonious symbiotic relationship. The Pervert is at the gym to check out prospective mates, while The Pervee wants nothing more than to be checked out: they will often be found walking back and forth in front of a row or treadmills, or aimlessly wandering through the weights section, picking things up, putting them down again, touching things...waiting, waiting, waiting for somebody to noticeeeee themmmmmmm.

Given their primary objective is not to exercise, both Perverts and Pervees will often not engage in any actual physical activity, unless it helps their cause in some way.

Perverts will often temporarily take on the role of The Pervee, displaying impressive feats of strength, fitness, balance, or coordination, to ensure they are noticed. Once their victim has been hooked, they offer to share their techniques. A man at my gym is notorious for this: he does slightly unusual, borderline impressive exercises (with maximum attention-seeking noise) until he catches a young woman's gaze on him. He then offers to teach her. This allows an 'up close and personal' session - one where he encourages her to bend just so as he looks over her, surveying every angle and critiquing her form (while mentally critiquing her bra size). She politely thanks him, leaves, and he finds someone else to 'coach'.
[It's probably worth noting that when young men inquire about his workout, he is not at all interested in assisting: "Get a personal trainer, man. I'm not doing this for free."]

Pervees are also prone to using their workouts as a luring tool. They have a tendency to visit the gym purely to do exercises they could've done in their own homes. One girl at my gym walks in, places a yoga mat in a conspicuous place, and proceeds to twist and bend herself into a variety of compromising positions. Many of these involve her butt being elevated and directed at boys. Once she's got her fix, she leaves, never touching a single piece of equipment.

There are no gender rules with Perverts/Pervees: men and women are equally guilty of strutting, flexing, spying, giggling, smirking, bending, twisting, posing, and raising their eyebrows just so.

Provided BOTH types are present in a gym environment, harmonium is achieved. The Pervert perves and The Pervee is perved upon. Both are happy. Both have fulfilled their mission.

However, when just one is left without an outlet, innocent bystanders are drawn in to the madness: you will find yourself either being sensually (creepily) winked at as you try to complete your set, or else you will be distracted while running on the treadmill, as a Pervee struts back and forth in front of you, shakin' their thang and desperate for someone to look at them. OH DEAR GOD, PLEASE JUST NOTICE MEEEEE.

#6: 'The Eating Disordered, Drug-Fucked Bodybuilder'

This is way less of a joke than you might think. It hurts me to say that.

This probably affects gym staff more than attendees. I worked at a gym for 3 years, and my relationship with the competitive bodybuilders was a tumultuous rollercoaster of emotion and heartache.

While they were 'bulking' they were outgoing, friendly and chatty. They were generally pretty cool dudes who perhaps had a wee bit too much spare time/a slight inclination toward masochism. But.. like...I'm not one to talk on that front. So let's just say yeah, they were generally pretty okay guys.

However, once they began 'cutting' - and their food consumption mimicked that of an infant - they turned nasty. They would throw tantrums, they were irritable. I worked quite a few long, all-day shifts, so I'd often be heating up my meals at the gym. The smell of foods - banned foods - was enough to send them into fits of rage.

They were hugely irrational and frantic, and it was sometimes pretty scary to watch them scream at an old lady because she wasn't using the water fountain quickly enough.

In part, their behaviour can be attributed to their plummeting food consumption and its effects on their mental and physical wellbeing. But I also heard many [almost definitely true] rumours of drug (steroids and amphetamines mostly) abuse. Moodiness + hunger + a barely functioning brain + drugs does not a happy combo make.

Once they were done with their competition, the spray tan wore off and we were left with just memories of the terrifying psychos they had become. They returned to their normal, relatively emotionally stable selves. Some of them even apologised for the way they'd acted.
And so there were a few months of calm, before the next round of dieting began...

[I wrote an essay about the dieting practices of competitive bodybuilders for an anthropology class in university. I will hopefully dig it up and post it in the not hugely distant future. It FASCINATES (/repulses) me]

#7: 'The Territorial'

The Territorial is not necessarily the same as a hog. They don't necessarily have a monopoly on all gym equipment or feel like it's necessary to have every medicine ball in their possession, assembled around them like some kind of weirdass ancient runes/Stonge Henge creation.

Hog behaviour isn't really creepy. It's just selfish and annoying.

The Territorial, however, is creepy. They form strange attachments to particular items. Items that are property of the gym and available for anyone to use. The Territorial does not think in these fair and egalitarian terms. Oh no. That treadmill is theirs, that particular purple yoga mat belongs to them.

I notice this particularly when attending group fitness classes: they have formed some kind of weird, sweaty bond to a particular spin bike... it's not just a preference. They will leave the class if you refuse to give it up so they can use it (this has seriously happened to me. I thought I was gonna get punched out. Spin class warfare is a dangerous thing). In yoga, some attendees get really really mad if their particular patch of carpet (not a metaphor) is taken.

But it is important that you DON'T GIVE IN TO THIS KIND OF IRRATIONAL, CRAZY-PERSON BEHAVIOUR. I firmly believe that the gym is a microcosm of the wider world: if you let people behave in a scary, possessive, territorial manner in the gym, it's only a matter of time until they've decided that THAT TREE IN THE PARK IS THEIRS. And then they sniper-rifle your kid down as they try to climb it. Don't let that happen. Stand up to gym creeps. For little Billy's sake.

And so concludes today's lesson. I hope you've all learnt something. Such as "wow, I am actually a massive weirdo" or "wow, I should join a gym... there is endless entertainment there!" Either outcome is one I can take pride in.

The Internet According To Lizzi (or: Why We're All Ginormous Creeps)

2012-01-28T22:19:00.000+11:00

As someone who spends a lot (like... a LOT a lot) of time on the internet, I also end up spending a lot of time thinking about it.

I wonder what will become of my blog, and of friends' blogs. Will we all continue to write? If not, will they stay online, as a kind of eternal memento of a period of our lives? Will we show them to our children? And our children's children? As we might old letters of photographs? Will my great-grandchildren cite my irrational menstrual fears in their school family history projects??

(click to embiggenate)

This is quite a nice thought, but hugely weird. It's incredible to think what the internet might be like in 20... 50... 100 years. I have high hopes that by the year 2075 everybody online will be able to spell correctly, pop-up ads will be completely eradicated, and all website colour schemes and fonts will be approved by a qualified graphic designer.

I like to think about the internet as a tangible thing. In my head, websites have distinct locations, positioned next to, above, below each other. In my brain, the internet is a giant, pulsing, living, ever-growing, interconnected universe.

(third star to the right and straight on to kitty videos!!!)

But this leads my mind to naturally progress to something bigger and scarier and potentially less metaphorical: if the internet is like a universe, then perhaps our universe is just some higher being's internet?!

(yeaaaah I'm not even gonna pretend I knew the names of all those galaxies. Thanks Wikipedia!)

Which means that our galaxies, stars, and planets could CRASH! They could be DELETED! They could become overwhelmed with traffic! They could get hacked!

This has made me paranoid and creepy. I feel like I'm in my own little intergalactic 'Truman Show.' Maybe somebody has subscribed to my life and checks in daily?? MAYBE SOME 47 YEAR OLD BALD DUDE WITH A POT BELLY AND SWEAT-STAINED SINGLET LOGS ON EVERY DAY TO JACK OFF TO ME MAKING BREAKFAST?!! Maybe my web-designers are gonna dramatically change my colour scheme any day now??? Maybe I'm eventually going to be maintained only by the income generated by GIANT UGLY BANNER ADS.

As you can probably tell, my life is hugely stressful. In an entirely 'brought it upon myself' kind of way. When I am stressed, I go on the internet.... I immerse myself in blogs and other people's lives. I admire website designs or scoff at them. I buy stuff.

And so I am soothed. If my life is just a sub-page in somebody's internet, then I'm sure as hell not going to give them anything good to look at. Yeah...watch me buy shoes online, you pervert.

Besides, this means that with every click and scroll and bookmark and subscribe and delete, I am just creeping on someone else's universe. That's a perversely satisfying feeling.

And so the circle of e-life is complete. Hakuna matata. Now please give me a good explanation of a 'motherfucker' for little Gretel... I don't want to traumatise the poor child.

AN AMAZING AND FUN-FILLED DAY IN THE LIFE OF LIZZI. amazement and fun not guaranteed.

2012-01-23T22:29:00.000+11:00

I'm not sure if I'm just a) really nosy and invasive, or b) lame, boring, and enjoy living vicariously through others. Either way, I LOVE snooping into the everyday details of people's lives. Which is probably why I enjoy reading blogs so much.... OH MY GOD YOU ATE A SANDWICH TODAY?! THAT IS THE BEST. OH MY GOD YOU WASHED YOUR HAIR LAST NIGHT?!?!? YOU ARE SO COOL.

So, based on the assumption that I surely can't be the ONLY one who enjoys reading about these things (please... tell me I'm not. I've grown accustomed to believing I have a scrap of cool left in me), I spent a day last week taking snapping pictures of the magical mischief and mayhem I got up to. Surprise!! There was no mischief OR mayhem!

I woke up, went outside, and was greeted by this face (sadly not my dog/rhinoceros.... but one day. ONE DAYYYY she WILL be mine!). Good day guaranteed.

My carmobile took me to work. It is full of sweaty old towels for the gym, water bottles, makeup, books, and a yoga mat that doesn't get used nearly enough.

I probably should've died taking this action shot.

I arrived at work - not dead - and sat at the MAGICAL WONDERLAND that is my desk. It has lots of pictures of baby animals, a kitten calendar, a rainbow slinky, and a WOLF CREEK sign, to deter any potential visitors who might want me to do work (unfortunately it has not been very effective to date... people still keep asking me to solve their problems. DON'T YOU PEOPLE REALISE I HAVE VERY IMPORTANT BLOGGING TO DO?!?!?!!).

I made myself a cup of (really terrible instant) coffee and munched on a banana. Lately my appetite hasn't been really kicking in first thing in the morning, so I don't tend to have much for breakfast when I first wake up (naughty, I know).

I organised/replied/deleted emails, then ate some strawberry-goo topped yoghurt (which looks revolting but is delicious) and some almonds and yoghurt-covered sultanas.

Then I went to a meeting. I didn't take photos of this, because I already creep out my colleagues enough.

Back at my desk, I like... did work. For several hours. I also spent some time looking out my window wishing the trees would do something exciting.

Once my stomach started growling, I made my way to the local shopping mall in search of lunch.

I saw some giant trampoline/bungee things, which were allegedly "FOR KIDS ONLY". The man running it said if they weren't busy, he would've let me on... except I was wearing heels and a skirt. I told him he was a prejudice shithead, then got him in a headlock and set his shirt on fire. One part of that story is true.

I also visited the pet store, to say hello to this little cutie.

I got my lunch to go and returned to work. Chicken schnitzel salad + a falafel/cous cous one underneath. I brought some bread from home and turned it into a open faced sandwich kinda dealy-o.

Then I ate an apple and did some more work. Dum dum dummmm.

Later, I felt my back and neck tightening up from all the sitting/typing/mindless staring at computer screen. I got out my TRUSTY BASEBALL for some impromptu massage.

Near the end of the day, I snacked on a deliiiicioussss almond/honey/apricot bar and a banana, and some more coffee....

.... before hitting the gym for some horrible/awesome elliptical-ising, abs-ing, and a spin class. As you can see, I am one of those people who always looks stylish and sexy while working out (though I was considerate enough to change my sweat-drenched shirt between workouts. I'd love to lie and say that wasn't necessary because I am a dainty and delicate girl who doesn't sweat..... but sadly not. I am revolting when I work out).

(for more of my pretty workout faces, see here)

Once I got home, I downed a smoothie (banana, vanilla protein powder, strawberries, chia seeds, honey, plain yoghurt), then went to shower. I did think about taking pictures of this, but ultimately decided that *~*~*~the mystery*~*~*~ would make me much more alluring to you. Right? Right.

Post shower, I used a very attractive mud mask on my face. Pretty!!

The absolute highlight of my day was dinner at one of my favourite restaurants, Rama's, where I've been going semi-regularly since I was a little kid. I forgot to take pictures of our entrees, so enjoy plate #1 of 78364734 of our mains. JUST LOOK AT ALL THE COLOURSSSS.

Came home stuffed (surprise, surprise), but in desperate need of something sweet. ANOTHER SMOOTHIE. This one was banana, blueberry, vanilla protein, plain yoghurt and a biiiig scoop of Nutella. Ohhhh yeaaaah.

The remainder of my night was spent on the couch, doing crosswords and doodling silly pictures and words.

With about a billion of these to keep me company. I know it's early in the year, but I'm gonna call it.... BEST PURCHASE OF 2012.

Once I had exhausted my almond supply, I did what any rockin' party animal young woman would do.... I put on my ridiculous floral frilly lacy ribbony Peter Alexander onesie (one day I'll snap some hot pics of that bad boy in action), took my crossword to bed, and dreamt of ridiculous things. Such as drawing on somebody's penis with a permanent marker. But that's another story for another day...

Songs To Sweat To - volume 1

2012-01-18T23:04:00.000+11:00

As promised a while ago, here's some some of my current gym/running/exercise playlist. I actually have about 14 different playlists... some targeted more at speed intervals, some meant for recovery pace runs, some for when I'm doing upper body weights, lower, etc etc etc. But here are a few tracks that serve me well most often. These songs are probably the only reason I'm even remotely fit (and I'm far beyond 'remotely fit' - so these must be working) - because lord knows at the moment my motivation to do anything physically exerting is at an all-time low, and the main perk of working out is that I get to listen to some killer music while I do it...before going home, eating a tub of ice cream, and crying myself to sleep. Not really. But it could happen.

My potentially devastating future aside, music is great! Let's listen to some music!! HERE WE GOOOOooo....

'Ize of the World' - The Strokes

Get ye to a spin bike. Verses = out of the saddle, moderate-high resistance. Chorus (if you can call it that..??) = sprints in the saddle, starting flat, gear up with each line. By the end, you should be barely able to pedal.

'Monster' - Kanye West (and chums)

This is perfect for any workout. I use it for running, weights, spin-biking. The key is that calling someone (even if it's just mentally) a 'motherfucker' or 'nigga' instantly makes you feel powerful, strong and/or amused. Either way, it's distracting. Which is also the main perk of Nicki Minaj's presence in this.... put on her 8736478 different voices, adopt her 3000048796734 different identities, and sing along. The other gym goers will also appreciate the distraction/entertainment, I'm sure.

'That's Not My Name' - The Ting Tings

You have two options. You can run to this song and you will LOVE IT. Or you can do the most kickass spin workout of sprints, jumps, and heavy in-the-saddle resistance. You will also LOVE IT. But you'll also probably hate me. But I don't mind. I still like you.

'Firestarter'- The Prodigy

Again, killer on a spin bike. I do a lot of hard jumps in and out of the saddle. But really, this is one of my favourite running songs... especially for hill sprints, using the "WEEEOOOHHH WEEYYEEHHuuuU" bits as jog-it-out recovery 'Raspberry Swirl' - Tori Amos

Running to this song is the best. It's also almost definitely about cunnilingus... possibly during mensruation. What's not to like?! 'Maybe You've Been Brainwashed Too' - New Radicals

This makes a great general jogging song. Or warming up. Or cooling down. When I'm making up my own one-woman spin classes, I use this as a recovery/spin track, because it's got a quick beat and doesn't really lend itself to a whole lot of hardcore exertion. It also provides some nice mental relief, because you can just focus on trying to figure out wtf the lyrics are. 'Breathe' - The Prodigy

In general, I am not a fan of treadmills. But every now and then I find them preferable to running outside. THIS IS MY ULTIMATE TREADMILL RUNNING SONG. Makes for some killer speed intervals.
'Sing for the Moment' - Eminem

Okay so it doesn't really matter what kind of exercise you do while listening to this... you can jog, you can beat up stuff, you can do yoga... you just need to pretend that you're in training to kill someone (or at least beat the shit out of them). You need to make up a whole new criminal identity for yourself, and live it convincingly for the next 5 minutes and 40 seconds. I find it helps to have your fists wrapped as though you're likely to punch something. If you have access to a mouthguard, wear it. Also spit a lot. Preferably on your mother.

'One Jump Ahead' - Aladdin

I don't use this for training... just for racing. If you are in any kind of race where you're allowed to carry an iPod/listen to music, make this your first song. What could be more inspiring than ESCAPING THE CORRUPT AUTHORITIES SO YOU AND YOUR PET MONKEY CAN EAT?! Nothing! If this doesn't move you, then you're a monster. And not a sexy Kanye West kind either.

There you go. Now go forth and have a sweat. I promise it'll be fun. And you'll feel like a gangsta. Or some kind of badass little street rat.... which is pretty much the same thing.

If (read: when) I rule the world...

2012-01-15T20:38:00.003+11:00

The other night I went to a lecture by David Sedaris in Melbourne. He, in addition to being my hero and role model, is probably my soulmate. Isn't that nice and convenient? Sadly, I suspect that I am neither his hero, role model, or soulmate. Nevertheless, I will pursue our relationship, which occurs between the pages of books, on the New York Times online, and in some pretty fucked up fantasies that involve me, him, and Anne Frank's house.

One of my favourite things he spoke about was a piece he wrote called 'If I Ruled The World', for the column of the same name in Prospect Magazine (his piece was never included, for a number of very understandable reasons).

This got me thinking about my own dictator-esque aspirations, which I have detailed below. Please feel free to add your own in the comments.... I'd love to know your thoughts. So I can be prepared in the unlikely event you ever rise to power. You sick, twisted, psychopathic fuckers.

IF I RULED THE WORLD...

The following phrases will be illegal: 'time-poor', 'grammar Nazi' (it's actually just called 'not being fucking stupid'), 'anyways'. 'value-adding', 'man flu', and 'overrated'.

The little ticket machine at the boom-gates when you exit a carpark would say more interesting, personalised things. Instead of the screen displaying "COME AGAIN!" or "HAVE A NICE DAY!", they'd say "your ass is looking smokin' hot today" or "have you ever thought about going blonde?" or "don't worry... he was an asshole anyway."

Hooker/stripper shoes will be banned for everybody except hookers and strippers. And maybe the occasional costume party attendee.

Salad, bread, and a variety of condiments will come complimentary with any meal, at any restaurant. Substitutions/additions/alterations will be welcomed for any dish.

Deodorant would be mandatory for everybody. EVERYBODY. Including infants. When a child is born, they will be cleaned up, have a little roll-on wiped in their armpits, and THEN handed to their mothers.

Condoms will come in a more exciting variety of flavours, such as pecan pie, buttered popcorn, mashed potato and gravy, maple syrup and Nutella on toast. This, I hope, will increase condom use and help prevent STDs and unwanted pregnancies. Alternatively, it might just improve people's sex lives. As a generous and benevolent leader, I am happy with either outcome.

If hair is highlighted/streaked, its colours are not allowed to be more than two shades apart. All of the below will be outlawed:

[MOTHERFUCKERS. What were you thinking? JESUS FUCK. You look ridiculous. STOP IT. And FYI I don't care if these people find this post and cry and get offended. In fact I HOPE they do. Because SOMETIMES BEING SAD IS ESSENTIAL TO NECESSITATE CHANGE/ENSURE YOU STOP HURTING MY EYEBALLS.]

When I rule the world, people will not be allowed to slowly meander on treadmills at the gym for more than 10 minutes during busy periods. At this point, you either need to pick up the pace/incline, or get off. Also on the topic of gyms, Top 40 stations may be played for a maximum of 2 hours per day.

Food prices will reflect the 'lifelong' cost of the food. Fresh fruit and vegetables will be made affordable, while junk food will be priced to reflect the burden their regular consumption will have upon the health system.

Workplace stationery cupboards will operate like a candy buffet - every month or so, you would be given a little bag which you can fill at your whim with goodies to take home.

NO MORE 3D MOVIES.

This strange development that is seeing 'totes' being accepted as a legitimate word will END IMMEDIATELY. The same applies for 'probs' and 'maybs'.

Ben and Jerry's will be more widely available in Australia.

Every radio station must play at least three of the following artists each day: James Taylor, Simon and Garfunkel (or their solo work), Billy Joel, Cat Stevens, Elton John, Don McLean and Leonard Cohen.

There will be no more of this 'banned foods' business in school canteens/cafeterias. I want my young subjects to learn decision making skills, not just have choices thrust upon them.

The plastic bag ban in my state will be revoked. However, you must have a license, stating that you are a responsible plastic bag user.

Acronyms that have evolved on the internet will remain on the internet - they will not make their way into daily speech. This includes, but is not limited to, CBF, TBH, FML and IMO.

Peanuts will not be banned in schools/workplaces. People with peanut allergies will be kept in isolation, emerging from their solitude at their own risk.

Everybody will have a daily complaining quota. 10 trivial items and 10 significant ones. That's it. Harsh penalties, fines, and jail time will result from exceeding your quota.

Eyebrows must be at least 0.6cm in width. Mobile phones must be turned off during sex. Cryptic crossword-ing will be a subject taught in schools. Animal cruelty will be more rigorously policed and punished. Disney movies will be released on DVD, available ALWAYS - no more of this 'limited release' bullshit.

You may not realise it now, but when I rule the world, you will all be infinity happier, healthier, and more prosperous. You'll also have better hair.

Career aspirations.

2012-01-01T21:58:00.002+11:00

There are few times of year that bring out 'what the fuck am I doing with my life?' feelings quite like New Year's Eve/Day. Even though I love my job, I sometimes get scared of being too complacent... so I start questioning whether I'm doing the right thing/what the alternatives might be, in case I find myself desperate for a change and/or get fired for inappropriate conduct.

I hope that by identifying my true talents and passions, I'll be setting myself up for a prosperous and happy future. So far, this is my list....

The Person Who Names Muppets

This probably doesn't have to be exclusively Muppets, but I think it might be a good avenue for my talents, given the recent film revival. I love naming stuff. My first cat was named Polyester. I also had pet mice named Frances and Gloria. And a kitten named Sylvia and a dog named Darcy. My two cats (who now sadly are a bajillion miles away living with my parents) are Alfie and Jeffrey. My next kitten (hopefully SOOOON) will be called either Lottie, Clover or Tinsel. I have dolls called Henrietta, Louisa, and Gretel. My first car was a Volvo named Sven. My current car is Gertie. My computer is Tallulah. My boobs are named Mary-Kate and Ashley. I hope to one day have a son named Stilton, and another child named Mizuno (gender irrelevant).

Words With Friends Loser For Hire

Feeling flat? Low? Like you're a good-for-nothing underachiever? Unsure of your strategic and reasoning skills? Your vocabulary? Why not play a game of Words With Friends against Lizzi for a small fee?!! Victory is guaranteed! You'll be feeling better about yourself in no time!

(while I sit in the corner of my apartment, shaking and rocking and quietly crying to myself while clutching my degree in English and wondering what the fuck went wrong...)

Professional Eating Contest Competitor

I can out-eat all my friends and family. Not that I always DO (believe it or not, I am not a complete spanner and do realise that it's probably not particularly good for me), but the fact that I CAN is admirable. It's not as though I don't feel full or want to stop eating: it's just that I'm able to push past this point and keep going. This skill is fairly useless in my day-to-day life (except when I have a lot of food in my fridge that I'm worried will go off and don't want to waste), but I feel that if I entered the professional circuit, I could make some serious moolah.
(and/or die)

Magazine Advice Columnist

Note: I would NOT be a great in-real-life advice-giver. I do not have the patience to argue with people when they disagreed with my guidance. But in print? They can't fight back! Plus everything sounds much more authorative that way.... no one takes a word I say seriously when I speak in my whiney little girl voice, which is upsettingly Bindi Irwin-esque.

For the record, my advice would probably always be one of the following: 'harden up', 'stop being a dick', 'grow up' or 'get over it'. These four approaches will solve most of the world's problems, I think.

Crying Body Double

I imagine it must be quite difficult and exhausting for actors to sustain fake crying through hours of takes, so I figure there's probably a market here. Once I get crying, I cannot stop. And just about anything sets me off.....Video Killed The Radio Star and the Fireman Sam theme song make me tear up. The thought of homeless puppies and kittens turns me into a blubbering, wailing wreck. Don't even ask what I'm like during a break up. It's frightening. Given my talent for tears, I keep spoons in my freezer at all time, which I smush into my eyelids, because otherwise they're so puffed up and swollen that they impede my vision and I should not legally be allowed to drive.

Gym/Fitness Class Playlist Creator

Have you ever been to a gym? If so, you will probably be familiar with the bullshit they play. It is either a) terrible musically/lyrically, or b) uninspiring. Usually, it is a combination of a) and b). But it doesn't have to be this way! With better music, a visit to the gym would be a pleasure, not a chore! The world would be fit and healthy! The obesity epidemic would be cured! Diabetes and heart disease rates would plummet! And I believe that I'm the person to bring this revolution to the world. I am frighteningly good at choosing workout music. Sometimes I just run my own, one-woman spin classes at the gym... people occasionally come in wondering what's going on and commenting that they wish it was a REAL class. My unique mix of gangsta rap, Britney Spears, Tracy Chapman and the soundtrack from Cabaret makes for a killer sweat-session, let me tell you. I'll probably actually do a full post one day on my workout playlists, with handy-dandy suggestions of what to do while you listen to the best combination of songs your little ears have ever heard. Stay tuned!

Newborn Baby Butt-Slapper

I don't know if this is just a myth or something I saw on TV... but if doctors/nurses really DO smack the bums of newborns, then this is my calling. I LOVE spanking people. I have a hard time giving my loved ones a hug without a little sneaky butt-grab/slap. If I see somebody I know in the supermarket or at the petrol station, I sneak up on them and give them a good friendly wallop. They appreciate it... I think.

Telephone Sex Operator

I'd be terrible at this by "conventional standards", but I think I'd make up for it in creativity. My sexy spiels would be delivered primarily in rhyme. Poetry is romantic, which would add an extra element for the discerning gentleman who desires more than simply cheap, smutty trash. I'm certain of my success, with sexy little sweet nothings like "I want to feel your pulsing member/Erupt like blossoms in September/Your monstrous manhood makes me quiver/Call me 'Mistress Spunkrat' and I'll deliver."

Alternatively, I could be a career counsellor! Seeing as I clearly have such insight into the working world.

Bonus!!! because I hate posts without pictures because my attention span is TEENY TINYYYYY... here is a photo of me at my ACTUAL job... Yes, I always look this frightened/as though Ryan Gosling just took his pants off in front of me. Also, please note my rainbow slinky in the background.... yep, I love my job.

Oh, and my little workplace buddy...

CHARIZARD SAYS BYE CUTIEPIES.

ps. I finally jumped on board and got a Twitter account - @lizzingbeth. I have no idea if I'll really use it, but whatev. It's there as another stalking medium :)

PLEASE NOTE: it is not actually New Years Eve! Please put down that bottle of champagne and take of that ridiculous party hat, you fool.

2011-12-16T11:05:00.001+11:00

Okay, soo I am prematurely eblogulating, but I know that I'll forget to do it closer to actual New Years Eve (which also happens to be my mother's birthday, so fingers crossed I'm too busy stuffing my face with cake to post a blog entry).

I wanted to do a 2011 recap... something profound and reflective, detailing the events of my year and how they fit into the grander picture of my life.

Sadly, my life is actually really, really boring. I don't have any exciting stories to tell from this year. I didn't do anything remarkable or life changing in 2011. I stayed in the same job. I didn't get married. I didn't even get knocked up! My friendship circle is more or less exactly the same. Any travel is limited to brief interstate work trips.

To be honest, I'm not upset by any of this. At all. But it doesn't make for very interesting reading. See? I'm always thinking of you guys.

But while 2011 has not been very exciting events-wise, I've felt more passionate and excited about stuff than I have for a while. 2011 has been a year of obsessions for me. I've become increasingly besotted with a number of things... most of which are insignificant and unexciting to anyone but me, but they're the things that have made my year fun, and inspired me, and got me pumped up for 2012.

K so.... divided into categories that pretty much sum up my entire life.

OBSESSIONS OF 2011

MUSIC

The Elected

Fave songs: 'Did Me Good', 'Biggest Star', 'The Bank and Trust', 'Who Are You' and 'My Baby's A Dick'.

Megan Washington

My living room dance sessions to 'Holy Moses' are out of control sexy.

PEOPLE

Courtney Stodden

I'm not proud of my obsession with this trainwreck of a human being. But her revolting facial expressions and airbrushed abs have earned her a special place in my heart. Not to mention her Twitter updates, which provide me with hours (okay... minutes... as I try to decipher wtf she's trying to say. Usually it's something like "I did a load of laundry today") of entertainment.

My Parents

(this drawing was from a blog post that never eventuated because I got lazy. Try to act surprised if I end up using it again)

Nothing makes you love your parents like rarely seeing them. Which is why my children will be kept in the attic and only brought out for brief moments at my whim.

FOOD

Instant Soups

I don't know why, but I somehow became besotted with these little packages of powdered sodium. Preferably not fully dissolved, to allow me to eat little chunks of the mixture solid. Yep... I am just asking for an early grave.

Caramel Popcorn

It started with a giant barrel of Poppycock purchased at Costco, and ended with me owning a popcorn maker, purely to enable the quickest, easiest creation of my own whacked out caramel/chocolate/nuts/marshmallow/sprinkles/m&ms/whatever popcorn concoctions. I have no regrets.

Gourmet Caramel Apples

I'd drooled over these on blogs for years, but had never been able to experience the magic until I discovered Applelicious, an Australian company. To make things even more serendipitous, they now also make caramel popcorn. God bless.

Dips on Pizza

I no longer use tomato sauce as the base when I make pizza. Now, I use dips (yes, as in the substance you would usually serve with crackers, bread, corn chips, whatever). Please try it. It will change your life. (ANY type is awesome... trust me. I had my doubts about some flavour combos, but they have all rocked my world)

Protein Bars

This started because I found my usual 8963746 granola bars a day were simply not cutting it. I am a ravenous wildebeest and they just weren't satisfying enough. So I tried protein bars and got hooked. I know they're not great for you, so when possible, I try to go for the less artificial/super processed/full-of-fake-stuff variety. Sadly, Australia seems to be a bit behind the rest of the world in this, and there aren't a huge number that aren't 99% crap that I don't want to put in my mouth. If anyone wants to hook a sista up, I'd be down with that ;)

WEBSITES

I have nothing to say about these. Just go, read, watch, look, enjoy. Waste hours of your life that you'll never get back. I promise you, it'll be worth it. You probably weren't doing anything useful with those hours anyway.

EXERCISE

Elliptical Intervals

I know they are the most uncool, unhardcore, sissiest, lamest looking pieces of exercises equipment, but I LOVE the elliptical for smashing out some seriously badass interval workouts.The best bit is that, unlike running, I can sit my iPhone on the little tray thingy and watch amusing YouTube videos, while the other gym-goers anxiously watch me guffaw and choke on my water bottle.

Anything Tricep Related

......not that you'd know it from looking at me.

And that, my friends, is pretty much my year in a nutshell. I wish you all the best Christmas/politically correct holiday season EVER, and a new year that puts every other year to shame. I have high hopes and massive plans for 2012. Big, big smooches to you all.

SEVEN (very) SELECT EXCERPTS FROM 17 YEAR OLD LIZZI'S DIARY.

2011-12-12T11:42:00.001+11:00

Alternate title: "When I was a teenager, I took a lot of photos of trees and had very limited respect for capital letters."

... I also eavesdropped a lot, and spent most of my time people-watching. I wrote down everything I saw, because I was terrified of ever forgetting.

I recently came across a bunch of old notebooks/computer files/photos, and the nostalgia left me feeling gutted and kneecapped and lobotomised. Because I had forgotten. It hit me hard, and I don't want to forget again, because those times were the happiest and saddest and luckiest and loneliest of my life.

So I started typing them all out, and it was very satisfying. And because I felt like posting something, but didn't actually have anything new or interesting to say, I figured I might as well share them here..... hugely censored, but here nonetheless.
(for everyone's sake, I omitted the "WHY DOESN'T HE SEE THAT WE ARE SOUL MATES?! WHY WON'T MY BOOBIES GROW BIGGER???! I HOPE I ACE THAT CALCULUS EXAM. PERHAPS THAT BOY WILL LOVE ME IF I GIVE HIM A BLOWJOB IN THE CARPARK. I WONDER IF I WOULD LOOK PRETTIER IF I HAD FAKE NAILS." entries. Yep. You're welcome.)

This will probably go down in blog-history (blistory?) as my one and only semi-serious post. Although... 'sticky little fingertips'? I don't remember what that was about, but it's definitely got me giggling.

So, anyway... here we GO!

ONE.

Tea, biscuits, blossoms and freesias. Slices of apple and little crumbling chunks of cheese. My head is full of bees and words and music notes, and I wish on every blade of grass that someday I will wake up less romantic; more poetic.

TWO.

She sat with her back to us, with her silky blonde hair and her Venus of Urbino body, killing the mood; very, very quietly suffocating it, with nothing but her bare lower back and her existence.

THREE.

You grew and stretched out of my words

(and became a little thinner from all the pulling).

You are not literal these days; more metaphor than person.

I like your wide and tight-lipped smile; slowly, slowly becoming less of a mystery (but still so electric).

I wish you days upon days upon days, from my split ends to the tips of my roots.

I hope these days stretch like you. Sort of like you. Sort of like my bloody bones or your bony wrists between my sticky little fingertips. Sort of like that, I suppose.

FOUR.

i remember her well (i think).

she tied an orange ribbon around my wrist.

sarah laughed a the sunset and kissed me for good luck ("for everything").

we smoked menthol cigarettes with our hair tucked behind our ears and our eyes too bright for that night (it felt too real).

the daisies froze solid and the next morning they had snapped.

we dressed in jeans and ex-boyfriends' old t-shirts,

orange ribbons in our hair.

orange ribbons in the apple tree from sarah's climb (and fall).

orange ribbons still around our wrists.

good luck sarah (for everything).

lily and the moon send their love.

FIVE.

we sucked our histories into our lungs. we drew in the day. you held on to it all, grabbing and pinching and pulling it back inside you and towards me, with greedy, selfish fingers. breathing out and it all poured back into the air; drifted away, found somebody new.

i cried that day, for the first time in years. i tried not to breathe in case more of us escaped through the tiny gaps between my teeth. blossoms on the apple tree and ice on the fish pond hit me hard. nostalgia brought me to my knees; the smell of old books and green tea left me shaken.

our collection flew away from me; they were sucked out and ripped from my fingertips. i thought i'd hidden them well, tucked them away beneath other, more pressing things.

let them rest, we'd said. let them gather dust. tie them together with faded brown string; mark them with fake labels. leave them for us (just us - only us!) for some other day, later later later.

but they flew. they stormed away, blinking in the light and testing their wings. they took to the sky and let anyone breathe them in and spit them out.

the rustled the leaves as they passed, they tore through the field, they skimmed the fish pond and ran with their ancestors; the ones i'd let escape long ago.

now, there is just a pile of broken string left. i tie the pieces around my wrists some days, to remember the memories and to help us forget.

SIX.

Here, I am surrounded by people who got sick of being unattractive, so became eccentric instead. Quirky by way of odd haircuts and bright lipstick. Big vocabularies and unlikely music choices.

BIRDS OF A FEATHER.

SEVEN.

I wish I could take to your life with a pocketknife, and carve - sharply and deeply - "I was here. I was here."

What I can ascertain from these diary excerpts: I had much too much spare time, probably should've been doing my homework, and very much needed to have someone shake me and yell in my face "ELIZABETH. STOP ROMANTICISING THE FOLIAGE. NOT EVERYTHING IS A METAPHOR."

Imagine if they formed some kind of SUPER GROUP?! The world's axis would reverse.

2011-12-07T20:51:00.000+11:00

Somebody recently told me that you can tell a lot about a person (or yourself) by looking at their history of concert attendance.

I'm not sure if they were talking out of their ass, but it sounded legit at the time...something about the 'suite' of artists providing an insight into their values and desires and overall view of the world, blahblahblah somethingsomething I don't remember.

I'm almost 100% positive this is bullshit and/or stating the obvious (the two often overlap, I've found), but nonetheless, I started thinking about some shows (the major ones... there are 783678345 other, smaller gigs) I've attended in the past few years....

Elton John

(I cried.)

Tori Amos

(I...err.... saw her three times.

I also cried three times.)

Eminem

(I cried. Then some dude grabbed my tits while another squeezed my ass.)

Nick Cave

(okay, this was actually a tribute show by a lot of other really awesome artists, but I figure it still sort of counts. And besides, I cried.)

Lil Wayne

(I cried. Because I wanted - so, so badly - to be one of his ridiculous backing dancer girls.)

Britney Spears

(I cried.)

Side note : here are some pictures of me dressed up as post-breakdown Britney...

I pulled it off a little bit TOO well: discuss.

So, what can we deduce from my taste in concerts?

I like people who are undeniably a little bit crazy.
I tend to value theatrics over musicianship.
I am a sucker for men who seem to not like women very much.

....awesome.

How about you?? What shows have you been to recently? Do you think your concert attendance patterns suggest anything about your inner weirdo?

time may heal all wounds, but a steady income and reckless spending will do it FASTER!

2011-11-17T21:50:00.004+11:00

My grieving process is clearly not complete.

Apparently, in my mind, the best cure for a broken heart is PRETTY THINGS! Mostly of the clothing and accessory variety.

My eyes may be puffy and my nose may be red and long ribbons of snot may be dragging along the ground behind me, BUT GOD DAMN IT, my earrings are shiny and my boots are killer.

I buy pretty things and I drape them across my body and then I, too, look pretty. This (sometimes) leads handsome boys with large egos to talk to me. They say things that are one-part nice to two-parts smart ass, which is apparently close enough to be considered charisma.

I do not like these boys, however, because they make me sad and nervous, and kind of cranky. So instead I go home and cry.

....BUT! (this wasn't supposed to be a depressing entry, I swear) I look ADORABLE. I even smell good! And my hair is as shiny as Judy Garland's in 'Meet Me In St Louis'!

So I cry, but I also admire myself in the mirror, dance to fabulous music, and allow myself to be completely self-indulgent. It's all a part of the healing process.

This, my friends, is how you justify an out-of-control internet shopping habit. I hope it serves you as well as it has served me.

Stuff I have ordered recently....

[all from ASOS and Etsy. Too lazy to find the individual sellers, but let me know if you want links and I'll track them down]

Oh, and remember how I said it's important to smell nice? This is a good place to start....

Fellas, just try to keep your hands off this minxxxxxx.

The one in which I talk about blowing wads, tree bark, and cattle.

2011-11-09T20:55:00.003+11:00

On my third birthday, I wrote a song. It is the only song I have ever written. As far as my musical career goes, I peaked much, much too soon. I blew my lyrical wad, if you will.

Ever since, for the last 21-and-a-bit years, I have held on to this song as my single greatest artistic achievement. I feel sad that it hasn't amounted to anything more than an amusing anecdote my parents occasionally recall.... mostly to people who really could not care less.

For a long time, I wanted to turn it into a children's picture book. But it's only four lines long, and isn't so much a narrative as a self-help guide. For confused three year olds.

That's a pretty limited market, and unlikely to achieve mainstream popularity. So I scrapped my my plans of literary glory, and have instead settled on posting it here.

... 'settled'? Did I say 'settled'? I meant 'decided to save it for a more intelligent and appreciative audience'.

Oh, and by the way.... The reason I remembered this song is that, as I was driving home from work today, Florence and the Machine's Shake It Out came on the radio. And I suddenly realised...It's pretty much the same song! Both talk about dark. And... born rhymes with dawn. Her version has horses, mine has cows. She talks about 'devils', I talk about 'bad'.
Don't worry. Miss Welch will be hearing from my legal team very soon.

So here is my song (although it is not so much as 'song' as a 'way of living'), with accompanying illustrations.......because I love Microsoft Paint like a crazy person. Which, incidentally, is what I am. Surprise!

UNNAMED COMPOSITION #1
Composed 26th August, 1990

Cuddle your mum and cuddle your dad

[You may choose whether you wish you cuddle your mum, then your dad, or the other way around, or even both at once. It's important that you put your own spin on this song. I can't tell you how to live your life... merely guide you in the right direction. If you're doing the cuddling of mum/dad/both correctly, you will all look somewhat like this.

.....yes I do come from a family of blind people with enormous heads. We are like an incredible hybrid mole-human creature, living in a mysterious underground city. Except instead we live in normal society, where we are teased relentlessly and crash into stuff a lot.]

Don't be afraid of the dark and the bad

[I chose to represent this with the scariest thing I could think of.... a scary forest late at night, with a spooky misty full moon and a witch on a broomstick with GLOWING RED EYES. If that's not dark AND bad, I don't know what is.]

You can't see the meadows or the cows in the corn

[You can't, can you? If you can, please move yourself to a new location or close the curtains on your window. Failing that, stab out your eyeballs. It's very important that you cannot see them.]

So don't be afraid of the bark or the born!

[Just don't! They are nowhere NEAR as scary as the aforementioned woods/witch/scary night scenario. And you survived that, didn't you? So harden up and deal with it.]

THE END.

I hope you found this as educational and insightful as I did. One day I will probably record myself singing it and post it here. Because humiliation and me go together like breast implants and Dolly Parton.

Thank you for your time. I will be signing autographs in the lobby.

EDIT: Mum (you know, the one I cuddled, along with dad) just emailed me a photo of the momentous moment when I composed this song. Apologies for the quality of this camera-phone-photo-of-a-photo. But I think you'll get the gist of the genius that resides inside that enormous, bespectacled head.

Doom, gloom, and terrible television choices.

2011-10-26T15:25:00.000+11:00

Well HELLO. I have resurfaced from the depths of the internet, after anunintentional absence.

I have been absent because I have been sad. I have been sad because myboyfriend is no longer my boyfriend. No going into details here, cos that wouldbe seriously LAMEEEEeee of me. Besides, not-boyfriend is still my best friend in theuniverse, and best-friends-in-the-universe don’t talk shit about best-friends-in-the-universe(especially not on the internet, which is NOBODY’s best friend).

But I will say that I have been a wreck. And continue, on and off, to bea wreck. BUT THAT’S OKAY because it is an appropriate time to be sad. Unlike,for instance, when I burst into tears during the Fireman Sam theme song becauseSOMETHING in that chord change just gets me RIGHT HERE. …..I'm thumping theheart-dwelling region of my chest right now, by the way. In case you didn’trealise.

So I’m sad. I’m sad and I’m lonely and I’m figuring out how to be okaywith this. I am possibly suffering from some kind of multiple personalitydisorder, and my mood goes up and down like you would not believe. But I haveconvinced myself that I am grieving, and that these erratic mood swings are alla part of the grieving process.

In fact, it’s remarkable how fully I have travelled through the five stages of grief…

1. Denial: … of personal space. My friends have been very good to me and mydemands for CONSTANT ATTENTION. If left alone, I have time to think. If I havetime to think, I get sad…then my entire head starts leaking an array of fluids.So it’s best to keep busy. Dinner dates, movie dates, lunch dates, coffeedates, gym dates, shopping dates, breakfast dates, watching-Sabrina-the-Teenage-Witchdates…. I have forced myself upon almost everyone I know.

2. Anger: At anyone who looks remotely happy. This includes babies, fictionalcharacters, and people attempting to sell me acne products on TV. Fuck you,Katy Perry! I hope your pores get blocked with cement and Russell dumps youbecause you now resemble a hideous, terrifying gargoyle!

3. Bargaining: By which I mean “bargain hunting”. Or, sometimes, “ignoringthe bargains and buying the most expensive and ridiculous shit that willtemporarily make me happy”. I have spent an awful lot of money in the lastmonth. I thought I would be an emotional eater or drinker… but nope. I am anemotional shopper. In my sadness, I have taken to buying things to fill thevoid in my life. I haven’t gone quite so far as to arrange my new skirts,shoes, dresses, shirts, scarves, pink-and-white-striped-playsuits (I don’t knowwhy. I really don’t know) and $200 mustard coloured shorts into the shape of aman for me to cuddle and spoon and take on dates to the movies, but it couldhappen soon.

<PHOTO INTERLUDE!!!!!>

PLAYSUIT!!!

OVERPRICED SHORTS (+ adorable nephew)

</PHOTO INTERLUDE!!!!>

4. Depression: Depression at the [possibly imaginary] three-years-in-the-makingboyfriend-shaped depression on the right-hand side of my bed. When I constructmy new boyfriend-made-of-clothes, I will place him here. And we will snuggle.

5. Acceptance: That I will die alone, alone, forever alone. Alone alone andsad. Sad and alone and dead and alone. And sad! So, so sad. And alone.

… I will also die melodramatic.

Now that I've got that out of my system, I will hopefully return more regularly to enrich your lives with my profound observations, witty commentary and off-beat good looks.

....yeaaaah!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some Sabrina the Teenage Witch to watch.

saturday morning + sugar + i own a camera yaaaay!

2011-09-24T12:24:00.004+10:00

GOOD MORNING!!!!!

HAPPY SATURDAY!!!!!!

I love Saturdays because they consist of the following: sleeping in (usually until well after the clock enters 'PM' territory), eating, going shopping and impulse buying, my FAVOURITE CLASS AT THE GYM ALL WEEK, and going to bed early. What can I say? I am a party animal. And despite getting 14 hours sleep the night before, I honestly have the sleep requirements of a newborn and therefore use my weekends to catch up on all the sleep I didn't get during the week.

Oh, and speaking of 'catching up', I also use my weekends to do all the basic stuff other people seem capable of doing daily, but I just don't. Such as washing my hair, doing laundry, shaving my legs, and tending to my delicately womanly skincare needs.

I'll spare you the leg shaving pictures.

Speaking of leg shaving, here is my handsome boyfriend when he used to ride bikes like a BOSS.

Doesn't he have a nice shiny quadricep? I stole this picture from his facebook. He's probably going to give me a Chinese burn for this.

BUT THIS PICTURE DOES HAVE A POINT (other than humiliating him/myself because he's far better at hair removal than me)... and that is this: he is a personal trainer (possibly the best in the universe) and he has started training ME. Which is awesome because he is fixing my back/posture/everything that sucks. When he is done with me, I will be super woman and nothing will stand in my way.
It's particularly great because he comes from a cycling/endurance sport background, he understands first hand that way it can screw up your body..........but that I want to do it anyway because I'm crazy :)

A big part of my 'training' is a LACK OF IT. ie learning to take it easy and recover properly rather than doing like 3 hour workouts every day. Like I said... I'm crazy.

I'm desperate to do another marathon but I want to do it RIGHT. With good form and posture, and with plenty of rest. Well fuelled and NOT INJURED and generally well-equipped to kick ass. And for now that means taking it easy and setting myself up with a really good solid kicking-ass foundation.

BUT because I have absurd endorphin requirements (possibly related to the aforementioned sleep needs), I go mental(er) if I don't get my sweat on at least MOST days. In order to satisfy this while still 'taking it easy', I bought myself a bunch of magazines to read while I walk on the treadmill or spin on a bike at the gym. Easy peasy recovery workouts + not doing my body any harm + getting my reading done? I am a smiley girl :)

My magazine selection. Please excuse my socks and grubby carpet. As you can see, my preferences in magazines goes like this: fitness/health, food, science, includes-free-lip-gloss.

Amusing story that I might've already told but shhh: When I moved into this apartment, I kept receiving the previous tenant's Men's Health subscription for a few months until it expired. I GOT HOOKED. Not only did I learn to cook 'PROTEIN PACKED MAN MEALS' and 'HAVE YOUR GIRL MOANING ALL NIGHT LONG...AND BEGGING FOR MORE IN THE MORNING', I also found that it appealed to my interests in training much more than Women's Health did - that is, it included a lot of info on really cool badass tough stuff. Not spending endless junk hours on the elliptical with no resistance on it because that's really useful fitness YEAAAHHHHH.

So I was so devastated once 'my' subscription ran out. So now I just buy it for myself. Pulsing-muscle sex god, right here.

Moving right along....

This is me eating an apple.

This is me preparing to eat a FAR SUPERIOR apple.
[edited to add: this was seriously the best pre-workout fuel ever. yeah yeah i know i said i'm cutting down/taking it easy but i was PUMPED after eating this thing and smashed out the most hardcore badass awesome workout in months. BOOM.]

I ordered my boyfriend a couple of gourmet apples from Applelicious and of course I had to get one for myself just to make sure it was up to scratch. It, um, was.

The fine folks at Applelicious also sent me a bag of their new cinnamon swirl caramel popcorn to try (not yet up on the site, but will be very soon!). I absolutely LOVED it. The popcorn had an awesome and unique texture that was slightly soft and fudgey (perhaps this is unintentional and the result of it travelling 983746 kilometres to get it me, but either way, I liked it!), and the flavour went like this: butter fudge, cinnamon, caramel, white chocolate, butter. Um, yes please.

I CAN HAPPILY SAY THIS IS THE BEST HING I'VE PUT IN MY MOUTH ALL YEAR. YESSSSS.

....I wanted to include pictures, but it was all gone within about 10 minutes of opening the bag. So just take a look at this picture on their facebook and imagine/photoshop me faceplanting into it :)

This post ended up being way longer than I intended it to be because I got overexcited about my boyfriend's quads and caramel popcorn. Oh well.

TWO BITS OF AUDIENCE INVOLVEMENT:
1. Two weeks til I'm in Melbourne! Let me know if anyone wants to hang/eat/shop!
2. I'm in the market for a new sports watch/heart rate monitor. Recommendations PLEASEEEEE.

Done!

The Nostalgia Files: music edition (part 1...of potentially 84687536)

2011-09-17T14:07:00.001+10:00

This post is gonna be massive, and probably not contain many words. If you don't like words, but like music, you will be happy. If you hate music and LOVE my witty articulate commentary then..... I'm sorry. You need more help that I can provide.

Music hits me HARD. When I love a song, I really, really love it. I tend to become obsessive about bands and artists, and in my mind they end up intertwined with moments/people in my life.

Here are a bunch of songs that remind me of certain people and certain times. They are all very very very important to me and if you don't listen to them all then I'll assume you don't love me/want me to be happy. Do you want that on your conscience? No. You don't.

You'll probably notice that there are no 'childhood' songs. That's because there are ELEVENTY THOUSAND of those and they deserve their own post. One day, my pretties. One day.

Enjoyyyy!

SONGS THAT REMIND ME OF....

My dad:

'Total Eclipse Of The Heart'
Bonnie Tyler
and

'Mmmbop'
Hanson and

'Bette Davis Eyes'
Kim Carnes

No joke - three of his favourite songs.

[I should point out that he genuinely does have fantastic, sophisticated taste in music........but he, like me, also enjoys trash]

My Mum:

'Kodachrome'

Paul Simon

[one of her favourite songs... and one that I want played at my funeral]

and

'It's Oh So Quiet'

Bjork

[probably her all-time favourite music video]

and

'Walking By'

Something Corporate

[for no reason other than she is my mother.....and she is born in December]

and

'Breathless'

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

[I don't know how she came about it, but mum fell in love with this song, bought the album, and got me hooked on Mr Cave]

High School:

'Straw Dog'

Something Corporate

and

'Maybe You've Been Brainwashed Too'

New Radicals

and

'Crystal Baller'

Third Eye Blind

[This song = Summer 2003 for me. I was listening to it at 2am, in my hot, stuffy bedroom just afternoon school had finished up for the year. In a fit of music-inspired/boy-inspired impulsiveness, I cut off 80% of my hair. Everyone has horror stories about this sort of thing, but it was an awesome move.]

My first year of university (AKA the worst/most beautiful/most horrible/most tumultuous year of my life......but at least it had a good soundtrack):

'I'll Believe In Anything'

Wolf Parade

and

'Combat Baby'

Metric

and

'Milk'

Kings of Leon

and

'Peach Plum Pear'

Joanna Newsom

and

'One Crowded Hour'

Augie March

and

'Wolf Like Me'

TV On The Radio

and

'I Like Giants'
Kimya Dawson

First boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, crushes:

'Hail To Whatever You Found In The Sunlight That Surrounds You'Rilo Kiley

[This used to make me sad (sad as in 'cry like a baby') to listen to. Now, it's a nice memento of an important time in my life/an important human being in my life. Time heals n all that.]

and

'Curtain Call'

Tori Amos

[This song came out years after the relationship in question was over. But it still gets me every.single.time.]

and

'Harvest'

Neil Young

and

'Deep Inside Of You'
Third Eye Blind

['I don't want to crush you, but I feel like crushing you' was pretty much angsty 16 year old Lizzi's mantra. For the record I never crushed anyone, so that's good.]

My current boyfriend (AKA Boyus-Angfriend, Ang-diddy, Googly-Bear, Angoogle, Kitten):

  'The District Sleeps Alone Tonight'The Postal Service
[we met both working at a gym. The music on the iPod - that played to the whole gym - was shit. One night he stole it and filled it with a whole bunch of...not really workout-friendly songs. I remember this one the most.]
and   'Idioteque'Radiohead [same as above. I love watching people try to run on a treadmill in time to this song]

and  'Bitches Ain't Shit'Ben Folds (Dr Dre cover) and  'Fast Car'Tracy Chapman  [I have no reason why. It has just always made me think of him, even before we were together] and 'Wu Tang Clan Ain't Nuthin' To Fuck With'Wu Tang Clan [first night I stayed over at his house, he blasted this to the world as a wake-up call the next morning. Great.] and (more than ANY OTHERS)
'American Music'Violent Femmes

AUDIENCE INVOLVEMENT TIME: what songs are big NOSTALGIA TRIGGERS for you???

Stay tuned for parts 2-84687536 :)

DIY reasons to live.

2011-09-09T14:16:00.003+10:00

Lately, I've felt stuck in a rut. I've felt bored and dissatisfied: not unhappy, but constantly discontent. Like I have nothing to look forward to.

THAT BLOWS. And the truth of the matter is this: I felt that way because I was not MAKING things to look forward to. I was not creating a life for myself that is full of friends and fun and laughter and silliness and smiles-for-no-reason and smiles-with-good-reason.

So I have made plans for myself...

NUMBER 1:
Trip to Melbourne, October 10-15.

Anyone wanna hang/shop/eat delicious food?!!?!

NUMBER 2:
Nick Cave tribute concert; November 16.

Details here if you're interested :)

NUMBER 3:
November 16 also happens to be my three year "failiversary" with this guy:

Early 2008, before we were *~*~*~together*~*~*~*. When we were young and cool, doing shots and dancing on tables.

Some time in 2009. At a Japan-themed trivia night. He dressed up as a samurai. I covered my body in pink wrapping paper and said I was "origami".

(I was training for a marathon at the time and ran pretty much every day - hence my badass sunglasses tan-lines)

Christmas '09. Looking so thrilled to be in each others company.

And Christmas 2010. Same as above, but without the sarcasm this time.

Earlier this year, we FINALLY went on a trip together. This = us hanging in our hotel room pretending to be grown ups.

Andddddd most recently. I enjoy to sit on his shoulders, while wearing a blanket as a cape, with a cake tin on my head. He is a lucky guy :)

NUMBER 4:
Eminem concert, Melbourne, December 2.

Yes, I am a 14 year old boy at heart. Shhh.

NUMBER 5:
Catching up with a lot of old friends (breakfasts, brunches, lunches, dinners, coffees, desserts, tea parties, movies, outings, innings, huggings, laughings, BEINGS), and getting to know new ones.

The happiness I feel about this is akin to the happiness I feel when I look at this picture:

And words cannot express how happy this makes me.

NUMBER 6:
Buying myself pretty things from Etsy. The anticipation of exciting packages arriving in the mail is a HUGE "thing to look forward to" for me. If you'd like to contribute to my collection of pretty things, you should probably go here ;)

birthdayx2

2011-09-02T11:27:00.003+10:00

THANKS FOR THE BIRTHDAY LOVIN' YOU BUNCH OF DELICIOUS CREATURES!

BUT! The birthday celebrations are not yet over... OH NO. Because yesterday was lil Bloggie Blogster's first birthday! Awwww. I originally had an awesome post planned to celebrate but that never happpened because I'm lazy and disorganised......BUT IT HOPEFULLY WILL SOMETIME. Act surprised, okay?

My birthday was completely awesome. The best I can remember ever ever ever. And because I want to share the joy with you all, here is a run-down (please excuse the random mix of crappy phone photos + normal camera photos.... I am incapable for consistency/organisation).

My day began with finding my desk at work beautifully decorated with balloons, pictures of baby animals, and Consuela the birthday dog (I have no idea how this tradition began, but she is bestowed upon an individual on their birthday, and they remain her custodian until the next office birthday. Her gold, glittery hat is mandatory attire at all times).

THEN FLOWERS ARRIVED! Dawww.

Then my loving, giving coworkers gave me some Blu-Tack, an extension cord, and a bottle of whiteboard cleaner they stole from our facilities storeroom.

But also some Max Brenner goodies. Helllll yesss.

David, our eccentric, ginger-bearded receptionist (who I'm sure will one day receive his own series of posts) gave me a small statue of a fairy from his extensive collection. "To gaze adoring at you at all times," apparently.

THEN I ATE A DELICIOUS LUNCH. There are no pictures of this but please imagine the following:
loaves of crusty Italian bread with olive oil and balsamic vinegar!
a pear, rocket and gorgonzola salad!
mountains of pasta with feta and chorizo!
some badass kipfler potatoes with even-badasser aioli!

THEN MY BOYFRIEND WHO IS A HOTTIE GAVE ME MY PRESENT............

Buttercup the bicycle :) :) :) I am completely smitten. With both the bike and the boyfriend.

With awesome basket (perfect for picnics!) and built-in flower holder....

... and the coolest/most comfortable leather seats ever!

Confession #1: I never learnt to ride a bike so this will be interesting.
Confession #2: Yes I do wear stripey pajama pants rolled up, with gold flats and white socks. I'm one stylin' mama.

Theeeeen my work homeslices took me to Cold Rock for ice cream heaven.
Again, no pictures, but here's the run-down:
Cake batter + caramel mudcake flavoured ice cream! With Turkish delight, Tim Tams, peanut M&Ms, Caramello Koalas, mini marshmallows, and hot chocolate fudge sauce.
It was heaven in a [rather large] cup. And also? I would like birthday candles in my ice cream EVERY time please. Thank you.

One of my ex-coworkers (who is now a full-time MILF) surprised me by joining us for ice cream with her little bundles of JOY! She even brought me another, more edible bundle of joy... in the form of Reese's Puffs cereal chocolate peanut butter heavenly balls of wonder and LOVE!

.... I ate them all for breakfast the next day.

Birthday night = amazing takeaway Malaysian with the aforementioned hot boyfriend + watching The World According to Garp. Yessss.

Hot boyfriend's little brother's birthday is the day after mine, so I baked him AMAZINGGGGG brownies to celebrate.

They all fell apart and look ugly but I promise they were delicious (they included caramel and pecans and walnuts and were so, so good. I want to marry myself sometimes).

And then we all died of diabetes. The end.

Now I'm just sad I have to wait a whole entire YEAR for another birthday/blogirthday :( Sometimes my life is very hard. And sometimes it rocks...... so I guess it evens out.

happy things.

2011-08-25T21:28:00.000+10:00

Things La-La-La-Lizzi is La-La-La-Lovin' at the moment:

All - for real, ALL! - my amazing friends/acquaintances/co-workers/whatever-ers who have made me feel worthwhile and special lately.
I dunno if you're all just luring me into a false sense of security so you can rob me and steal my millions and millions of ~~dollars~~ gym clothes, packs of gum, and Gourmet Traveller/New Scientist magazines..... but thanks!

Clinique's Chubby Sticks.

If there's one thing I like, it's a chubby stick.

Weather that doesn't suck for once.

I'm going to attempt to drag my ever-growing ass out running tomorrow morning, for the first time in approximately 83 hundred months. This may or may not happen. My ass may or my not continue to be ever-growing. Oh well.

Megan Washington.
(yes I'm behind the times but shhh. i used to dislike her rather a lot but suddenly i...don't? yeah!)

(my enthusiasm for this is almost entirely related to my enthusiasm for kazoos and glitter)

Making s'mores using these bad boys.

Helllooooo sugar coma.
... and what's that? Ever-growing ass? Well hello to you too, I guess.

THE FACT THAT TOMORROW IS MY BIRTHDAY!!!
The following things will happen: finally owning a popcorn maker. eating a delicious lunch and a lovely restaurant with my favourite people in the world. playing with puppies. workplace 'surprises'. an allegedly "AMAZING" present from my allegedly "AMAZING" boyfriend. wait....... i mean.... a almost-definitely AMAZING present from my ~~allegedly~~ stunningly gorgeous hunky sex god boyfriend. whew. good save.

Ummmm there are probably other things I like too, but I don't want to be too happy or no one will take my poignant poetry, art and political statements seriously anymore.

.......HAHAHAHAHA. the end.

Hurting Vandalising the ones you love.

2011-08-10T15:10:00.001+10:00

This will probably not come as a surprise to any of you, but sometimes I absolutely crack myself up.

A couple of weeks ago, I walked into my beloved Group Ride class (in my even more beloved Alive! Health Clubs) and saw this poster:

Now, I don't know if there's just something profoundly wrong with my brain (no comments, please), but I did NOT see legs in this picture.

In fact, I didn't see legs so much, that as soon as I got home, I felt an uncontrollable urge to whip out my finely-tuned, highly-developed Microsoft Paint skills, and redecorate the picture as my mind had interpreted it.

Much better.

Why I can't take my graffiti-artist tendencies out on something I DON'T love it beyond me.

SEGUE......!!!!!!!

More stuff I'm currently loving (that I will - most likely - desecrate unforgivably at some point):

My hot water bottle, Randall.
The Collective Dairy's yoghurts. Hooooly crap yes. I am a fiend.
The fact that I'm so clever I bought my dad a table tennis table for his birthday almost entirely so I can go over and play.
The [limited edition] existence of the Smurfs Cereal. ANYONE IN THE U.S -- I WILL BUY YOU PRESENTS AND BESTOW ETERNAL LOVE UPON YOU IF YOU SEND ME SOME OF THIS CEREAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
How oddly and frighteningly productive I've been at work lately. Like... for real. Not even "productive" in the way I usually define it.... ie. "eating a whole bag of chocolate chips and learning how to french braid my hair in between practicing my office parkour skills".
Little bit of spring in the air. Just a little, but it's there. I accidentally rhymed, so beware. I'm a loser, to be fair.
Planning my trip to Melbourne in October. Visiting my family + Melbourne [half?] Marathon + two days off work + three days at a fully-catered conference in the city. HAPPY TIMES. Any Melbournians, let me know if ya wanna hang.
Carman's muesli bars being on sale at Coles. I am a muesli bar freak and bought 6 boxes yesterday. One box = in my belly already.
Doing the census last night. I LOVE STATISTICS AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT!!!!!!!

On an unrelated note, would you like to hear the best (to date) Google search term that has led people to this blog?

“Images of the disabled and special needs people walking with the Lord.”

I'm not sure which part is relevant to my blog. But I have my suspicions.

easy steps for the best wedding ever AKA that time my best friend got married

2011-08-07T21:08:00.003+10:00

[Alternate title: "See mum?! Sometimes I can smile nicely for the camera!!"]

Warning.... photo overdose comin' atchaaaa.

Many moons ago - by which I mean four or five months - my best friend Jenny got married to a rather lovely fellow named Justin. I was one of the bridesmaids, because Jenny is insane and waaaay too trusting. She even let me sign all the important documentation. What she doesn't yet realise is that her marriage was witnessed by 'Princess Hotpants 69er McGee'.

I finally got my grubby mitts on some photos from the wedding (big props to Melissa Dixon! Be sure to check her out if you're in the Canberra/Sydney region and need a photographer!) and decided to share them because it was truly one of the most fun days I have experienced, ever ever ever.

Handy tips for having a bitchin'-ly good wedding...

1. Be Chinese. There will be delicious foods, ridiculous door games (during which you get to take out all your sadistic tendencies on your friend's husband-to-be) and colourful outfits.

(armed with marshmallows = pretty much my default position in life)

2. Have a celebrant with a totally badass comb-over.

3. Ensure the bride is the nicest, most Non-Bridezilla type in the world, who does her bridesmaids' hair on HER wedding day.

(I tried to help too, but nobody trusted me. So instead we have these staged photos of me pretending to assist the bride. Shameful.)

4. Also have lovely bridesmaids, who all genuinely like each other and look like delicious bars of Cadbury chocolate in their purple dresses.

(also show a bit of bra)

5. Stick together and smile as much as possible for the whole day.

6. Have an adorable flower girl.

7. And a sweet as little ring-bearer wearing a waistcoat and blowing bubbles.

8. Find a choir of assorted colourfully-dressed children to sing 'When You Wish Upon a Star' while you walk down the aisle.

9. Pretty flowers for everyone!!!!!!!!

(guess who caught the bouquet, bitchessssssss?!! brute strength + monstrous pulsing muscles + nails + teeth = victory every time)

10. A Disney Castle cake is a must.

11. As is TRIVIA! And apples as tables decorations/to keep the hyperactive fruit-freak bridesmaid happy.

12. A nice sunny day for an outdoor ceremony really helps. However, avoid having bridesmaids who step on your train and try to pretend it didn't happen.

13. Make sure your bridal party knows how to STRUT.
...on grass.
.........in heels.

(this is totally the wedding equivalent of my 'nur-nur-nur-nurrr-nur, I'm winning!' running face.)

14. Marry somebody you actually sorta-kinda like. It helps, I've heard.

THE END. CONGRATULATIONS AGAIN, J & J.

Edited to add: Sadly, I don't have any pictures/videos of the ABSOLUTE BEST part of the wedding, so you'll just have to take my word for it......

The bride and groom's first dance? This bad boy.

Oh yes they did.

in lieu of intelligent wordsmithery.

2011-08-05T21:53:00.001+10:00

I think there MIGHT be words and sentences and funny stories and profound phrases fizzing away in my head, behind my eyeballs and between my ears. But they're not quite bubbling to the surface just yet, so I can't be sure.

Lucky for me, I don't need many pretty words to pad out a blog post, because I am a Modern and Sophisticated Lady with a TELEPHONE-THAT-TAKES-PHOTOGRAPHS.

Here are some TELEPHONE-TAKEN-PHOTOGRAPHS of late. I might even put some words near them.

OKAY SO....

I recently won a Donna Hay baking pack from Not Quite Nigella. This excited me on so many levels: 1. OHMYGOD FREE STUFF.

2. OHMYGOD FREE SUGAR!

3. OHMYGOD I LOVE BAKING.......AND IT'S FOR FREE.

4. OHMYGOD I GOT A BIG BOX OF GOODIES DELIVERED TO ME AT WORK! I FEEL SO IMPORTANT!

I have not won anything since I was four years old and was one of approximately 45800 winners in a cupcake dolls colouring competition. We got to go to a party where they fed us cupcakes with $2 coins baked into them. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be allowed to that these days, so I cherish the memory.

Anyway, all this leads me to believe that I am destined to only win baked-goods-themed competitions. I am okay with this. Expect a mass bake-o-rama sugarfest blog post/product review in the not too distant future!!

AND THEN....

I was a badass this week and stole a bunch of postage-paid envelopes and mailed all my friends and family autographed copies of my one claim to fame..... AKA the corporate brochure I feature in as 'young woman pretending to be on the phone while wearing a man's shirt and sitting at a desk that's not her own.'

SPEAKING OF WORK.....
Sometimes I have to go to really painful meetings. I get through this by taking elaborate 'minutes'.

My technique for this is simple: pick a word someone says (in this case 'clarify') and then fill a page with words/phrases that rhyme with this original word.

OTHER THINGS I DO WHEN I SHOULD BE WORKING:

Decorating the cubicle dividers in our office with rainbow slinkies and an impressive collection of Post-It Notes.
... man, this whole entry is so gonna get me fired. WHOOPSIDAISY.

'AND WHEN YOU SHOULD BE SLEEPING?' I HEAR YOU ASK...

I harrass my boyfriend.

Who is already emasculated and humiliated from having to sleep in pretty pink floral bedding.

... and I just add insult to injury by licking his face when I tell him I want a 'nice photo of us together'. Sucker.

... and who has to sleep with one eye open because I am a creep who is hell-bent on taking the most awkward/embarrasssing photos possible. I LOVE YOU SWEETIEPOPSICLE.

AND FINALLY.....

I don't only pester my boyfriend with a camera when he's trying to sleep. OH NO. Nobody is safe. This is my kitty (who now lives with my parents because I am a sad and deprived apartment-dweller). His name is Alfie. I wuff him. I rescued him from under a barbeque when he was two days old and reared him by hand on processed Kraft cheese slices and strawberry yoghurt. Needless to say, he is pretty messed up but we're perfect for each other :)

THAT'S ALL I GOT! HAVE A ROCKIN' WEEKEND, YOU FINE SPECIMENS.

i've been left home unsupervised on a saturday night.

2011-07-23T21:09:00.004+10:00

I had every intention of doing a 'proper' post this weekend. One that was coherent and complex and topical. One with substance. And wit. And wisdom. And maybe even some goofy pictures of me pulling funny faces.

But that's feeling increasingly unlikely, so brace yourself for a disjointed assortment of thoughts as they enter my brain.

NUMBER ONE.
There are some new and awesome search results that have led people to this blog.
My favourites...

"giant old lady glasses"
"eat your fucking soup bitch"
"young girl's small titties"
"what is a piece of beep?"
"evil uterus"
"i love neopets"
"how to beat down syndrome"
"where can i find a phd thesis online?"

Welcome, new readers! You are all fucking weirdos.

NUMBER TWO.
Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly self-indulgent, I listen to sad songs about break-ups. Never mind that it's been well over three years since I was involved in any sort of break-up. It doesn't stop me pretending that the song is written about (and for) me, while I cry into a bucket of ice cream and reminisce about the demise of my hypothetical failed relationship.

Yep, I feel sorry for my boyfriend too.

At the moment, Gotye's 'Somebody That I Used To Know' is that song. It absolutely wrenches my gut and makes the backs of my eyes prickle and acheeee. It speaks of every break-up in the history of ever. Even the ones that haven't happened yet. It is about the ones where you are the victim and the ones where you are the perpetrator. And the ones we're you're both - AKA most of them.

It's also about the times when you should never have stooped as low as you did. And the times when you you absolutely HAD to. And also the times when you wish you'd stooped even lower while you had the chance.
...
...Uhhh. Not that I would do that.

Listen, watch, and get progressively hysterical, angry, and hurt. So at least I don't feel so lame and weird.

NUMBER THREE.
Costco finally opened in Canberra. Of course, I went on opening day. And yes, I do now have a kilogram of peanut butter, 2 litres of ketchup, a bucket of yoghurt, the yield of 30 cherry trees, huge bags of corn chips, dried mango, and caramel popcorn.

Perhaps my best (and worst... or most dangerous, at least) purchase was a giant tub of Byron Bay Cookie Company rocky road cookies. Less than 24 hours later, they're all gone, my belly hurts, and I suspect I may have diabetes.
If anybody needs me, I'll be at the gym. Or hooked up to a defibrillator.

... at least until I waddle my ass back to Costco for more. Crossing my pudgey, sticky, crumb-covered little fingers and toes that they'll eventually stock other varieties. A great man once said the following wise words: "a woman cannot live on rocky road flavoured cookies alone."

NUMBER FOUR.
I joined forces with my homegirls at work and we ordered $480 worth of stuff from Victoria's Secret online. Wow. It's due to arrive on Wednesday. Consider this your official invite to the Sexy Wednesday Afternoon Office Lingerie Party.

NUMBER FIVE.
I need to decide if I'm going to run the Melbourne Marathon in October, or just the half. Or neither. Or both. .... no. Not the last one. Noooooo.
I have barely run in months and my calves are like little weak puddles of jelly. My feet have lost their sexy running callouses and every step hurts.
But: running makes me feel like a badass. Plus I want an excuse to go to Melbourne, so I think I'll do it. I encourage any Melbourne readers to keep that weekend free: I'm gonna need some eatin' company for a monstrous pre-race dinner.

NUMBER SIX.
I've been plagued by nasty oww-ies and ouch-ies lately. I feel like a crippled old woman, and most of it is my own fault (from running - hence some of my hesitation to train for more big events - and cycling, and lifting heavy stuff, and not stretching, and stretching too much, and sitting for hours on end in front of computers, and slouching, and on and on and on...). I've begun acupuncture with the lovely Matt (Matt, that link was a test to ensure your website traffic tracking is up to speed :p), and more regular massages with my darling Amber. I am sick of being in pain and being cranky and being whiney. Plus I want to TRAIN HARD AND RACE LIKE THE FLASH ON RED CORDIAL. So cross your fingers that I start getting fixed so I can kick booty all over the shop.

NUMBER SEVEN.
My boyfriendling is out at a party tonight, so I thought I should use this quiet Saturday night at home to catch up on some stuff.... Like doing my tax return. And vacuuming. And fixing all the stuff that's broken in my house because I am a klutz/cursed.

Instead, I made the best dinner ever (there was pasta. there was butter. there was pancetta. there was brussels sprouts. there was broccoli. there was garlic. there was lots of salt. there was goats cheese. and then there was some more butter), watched the same music video on repeat for an hour (no points for guessing which one), eating my way through my Costco purchases, and trying to think of something awesome to buy for the aforementioned boyfriend for his birthday (sadly I don't think the bucket of Costco yoghurt is gonna cut it). I'm thinking this. Just cos then he'd be completely irresistible to me. But I'm not sure if he'd appreciate me constantly licking his face. This is hard. If you were my boyfriend, what would you want for your birthday?!?! Other than a vasectomy. Or lobotomy.

cereaus business.

2011-07-20T11:06:00.005+10:00

My cerealhabit is completely out of control. There are days when I eat cereal for everymeal. I’ve been known to eat an entire, family-sized box in one sitting (yep,my bowels are squeaky clean). I always have a few different boxes in rotationat any given time. My excitement when I discover a new brand or flavour is onpar with most people’s upon the birth of their first child.

I like cerealhot or cold. With milk, or just eaten by the handful, dry from the box. I likeit on yoghurt and on ice cream. I use it in baking whenever possible.Sometimes, instead of milk, I’ll mix it with chocolate sauce or maple syrup,and create the most monstrous sugar-coma-inducing “dessert” known to man.

…I justreally, REALLY frikkin’ love cereal.

But oddlyenough, it didn’t really feature in my childhoodstaple foods. I ate a lot of porridge as a kid, and I have vague memoriesof corn flakes occasionally (topped with approximately 18 tablespoons of sugar).I remember going through a period of Coco Pops madness, purely to collectcoupons redeemable for some sort of Gameboy-esque electronic game. But otherthan that, cereal wasn’t a big part of my diet.

So perhapsthat explains the obsession now: I’mmaking up for lost time.

Given thesheer quantity of flakes, clusters, pops, nuggets, bubbles , hoops, snaps,rings and crunches I go through in an average week, it makes sense to documentit in some way. After all, I’m sure not all of you have the same incredibletolerance for fibre as I do. So I decided to save you – and your digestivesystem – some effort by reviewing a few cereals that have graced my milk/icecream/yoghurt/chocolate syrup lately.

OUR FIRST CONTENDER…..

I had huge hopes for Back toNature’s ‘Waffle Bite’z’.

First, I love food-that-tastes-like-other-food (ketchupflavoured potato chips, lemon meringue flavoured yoghurt, tiramisu flavoured chocolate, ice cream containing pavlova,ANZAC biscuits, Christmas pudding, pear and rhubarb crumble….)

Second, I love food-shaped-like-other-stuff (dinosaurshaped chicken nuggets, for example), especially if it’s MINIATURE. Itmakes me feel like a giant.

Third, I love waffles and I love maple syrup. And thepromise of these flavours in my cerealbowl was almost too much for my little brain to handle.

Mythoughts:

‘Bite’z’ is possibly the stupidest word to grace acereal box ever. And that’s a big call. Hannah lamented the use of this term inherpost. There’s not much more I can say, except:
a) adding a ‘z’ to the end ofa word was cool in grade 4, among the same girls who liked to replace the doton an i with a heart/star/smiley face/flower. It is no longer cool. And thosegirls were always kinda stupid anyway. I suspect Back to Nature’s marketingcrew are a bunch of fuddy-duddy really uncool dads who tell horrible jokes totry to impress their children’s friends…. “HEY LOOK KIDS! I REPLACED THE ‘S’ ONTHE CEREAL BOX WITH A ‘Z’! HAR HAR HAR! AM I A FRESH PRINCE OR WHAT!?TESTIFY!”
... and...
b) apostrophesmatter.
These do not look like waffles. They look like daisies.Or strands of DNA. I like daisies, and I have nothing against DNA (it’s servedme well to date), but if I wanted daisy-or-genetic-material-shaped cereal, Iwould invent Daisy-Os or DNA Pops.
They have an odd, airy, styrofoam-y texture (probably owing to itsgluten-free ingredients). It’s not entirely unpleasant, and I quite liked theslightly gelatinous state it took on when soggy. But probably just because itallowed me to pretend I was a Ghost Buster fighting slime-trailing ghosts….itwould definitely not be for everyone.
There's also a weird, bordering-on-unpleasant, almost savoury flavour. Kind of similar to thatof Rice Bubbles/Rice Krispies, AKA the most useless cereal ever, worthwhileonly when combined with melted marshmallows into delicious bar form. TheseWaffle Bite’z have no excuse for being so strangely savoury/bland………The thirdingredient is sugar. NO EXCUSE.
Maple flavour? Waffle flavour? Where are you???? WHY AREYOU NOT IN MY MOUTH?!?!?!?!?

Theverdict: These bite(……’z).
[for the record – Back to Nature’s other products, including the equallyunfortunately named ‘CookieBite’z’, are much, much better]

NEXTIN THE RING…..

Let’s get itright out there: Weet-bixGolden Crumble Bites rule hardcore.

My thoughts:

Goldensyrup is not a flavour used enough in breakfast. It is also one of my favouriteflavours. Statement 1 + Statement 2 = Statement 1. Uhh. Yes. I have a degree inEnglish. I do not have a degree in mathematics. Moving on…
Ididn’t taste the coconut much. Or at all, really. But this not upsetting to me,as I’m not a huuuuge coconut fan (especially in cereals). It tends to upset mydelicate, dainty, lady-like tummy (just suspend your disbelief, okay? Andignore all the stuff I said about how much fibre my intestines can handle).
Ilove the ‘layers’ of a Weet-Bix….Weet-Bick? What is the singular of ‘bix’? Idon’t know. But I love the way they flake into ‘sheets’. Of wheat.‘Weet-Sheets’, they should be called. Or, if the fuddy-duddy-bad-dad-jokemarketing crew at Back to Nature was in charge… ‘Weet-Sheet’z’.
Evenbetter is the fact that these are CHUNKY! I love chunky stuff! Kit-Kat ChunkyBars. Chunky Lego, designed for the under-3 year old market. Chunky soup.Chunky men. Chunky peanut butter. They’re all so much more enjoyable to bite –and so much more satisfying – than their non-chunky counterparts.
‘Weet-Bix’may be a silly and confusing spelling, but at least they managed to correctlyspell ‘bites’! WELL DONE, SANITARIUM!!!
Theyalso deserve major points for redeeming the ‘Bites’ range from the travestythat is Cocoa-Maltflavour. By which I mean ‘no-flavour’. For shame. Without turning it into areview of its own, let me just say that it’s the biggest waste of an AWESOMEFLAVOUR COMBINATION since…. Well…..Waffle Bite’z.

The verdict: Delicious. Chunky. Like little bricksof layer-y, flake-y love. Golden syrup rules. Correct spelling of at least halfthe name redeems all other sins.

THIRD…….

… And appropriately, there are three of them - Table of Plentymueslis: Heavenly Honey, Velvety Vanilla and Nicely Nutty. A Trifectaof Tastes.

My thoughts:

It’s like they read my mind!!! I always findtoasted muesli to be TOO toasted… while natural is just a bit too sissy andwimpy and raw for my tastes. Table of Plenty blends the two, in a move thatmakes the indecisive among us cry with glee!
All three flavours are delicious. The fruityones more so than the recently-added ‘Nicely Nutty’, which feels like it needsan extra flavour in there somewhere (perhaps some ‘Majestic Maple’ or 'Civil Cinnamon' or ‘GlowingGolden Syrup’ or 'Noble Nutmeg'?), or perhaps just to be slightly sweeter.
I enjoy alliteration. I extensively excessivelyelaborately enjoy alliteration a lot.
These would be better with a few biggerclusters. While I appreciate the toasted bits in addition to the raw, it’s notQUITE enough of a contrast. Besides, as discussed, I enjoy biting on chunky things/men.

The verdict: Avery yummy, very addictive, slightly-fancier-than-everyday muesli, that appealsto my desire to eat EVERYTHING at once. Because making decisions/committing isfor losers and married people and those with a mortgage.

[note: if you want to take your indecisiveness to the nextlevel, do what I did and MIX ALL THREE TOGETHER. You will not regret it]

ENTER THE FOREIGNERS…..

I’m a big fan of sugary, cutesy, novelty American cereals.The kind that are like dessert masquerading as breakfast. The kind that glowwith artificial neon colours. The kind that have cartoon characters on the box. The kind that are aimed at 8 year olds. Most importantly... The kind with miniature marshmallows.Marshmallows do not grace the cereal bowls of Australian children. I am, on theone hand, glad about this, for a range of nutritional and ethical reasons. Butmy inner 6 year old longs for an 8am marshmallow-induced sugar coma.

So, whenever I see them in import stores – usually retailingfor a whopping $10-15 a box – I stock up.

[and here I would like to put out a MASSIVE plug to the awesome folks at USA Foods, who make my life/breakfast worth living/eating]

Cookie Crisp isone of those cereals I saw on American TV shows and marvelled at as a kid.COOKIES?! COOOOOKIES??!?!? In my cereal bowl?!?!?!? As I mentioned brieflyabove, there is now a similar product made by Back to Nature. But.. ya know… it’sdesigned to be healthy. If I’m goingto have cookies for breakfast, I do not want them to be nutritious.

My thoughts:

They don’t taste like cookies.
But they do taste like sugar, which is animportant component of cookies.
I think they are better soggy. Probably justbecause they then remind me – slightly – of soft chocolate chip cookies.
They are very, very cute.
Their most valuable contribution to society isthat they allow you to do this....

from left toright: apricot jam, nutella, peanut butter

The verdict: Theyare not particularly great, but they have novelty value (for an Australianmarket, at least) coming out of their little cookie ears.

Golden Grahams areanother in the stuff-that-tastes-like-other-stuff cereal category. Do you seewhy I love American cereals so much?!?!?

My thoughts:

Are they meant to taste like graham crackers?
They don’t taste like graham crackers.
But most Australians wouldn’t know what grahamcrackers are anyway, so it doesn’t matter.
THEY TASTE LIKE FAIRY FLOSS/COTTONCANDY!!!!!!!!!!!! Or toffee! ….. AKA like something comprisedentirely of slightly burnt sugar! YAAAAAAAAAAY!
Unlike Cookie Crisp, they are infinitely bettereaten dry.
I thoroughly enjoy the fact that one of theirslogans is ‘With ridges that rock!’. You know you’re struggling when ridges areyour selling point. I look forward to the day when they adopt a new slogan.... "THEY'RE RECTANGULAR!".. or... "With FOUR right angles!"

The verdict: Iexpected these to be boring…. BUT THEY ARE SERIOUSLY DELICIOUS. Fairyfloss/cotton candy/toffee?!? For breakfast?!?!?!?

That, my friends, is even better than cookies, waffles andmarshmallows combined.

I think that’s quite enough for today. Stay tuned… I suspectthere will be many, many more cereals featured here.

And please, please, say a little prayer for my bowels.

When life gives you lemons/hooks, make lemonade/try not to kill yourself.

2011-07-10T20:41:00.000+10:00

I moved into my apartment almost a year ago. Today I realised that it finally feels like home, to the point where I don't even really 'see' it anymore (this is sometimes bad, as I tend to 'not see' piles of dirty dishes in the sink and toast crumbs leading from my kitchen to my bed and back again).

Despite feeling more like home - and despite the fact that I am sometimes really super-crazy-OCD-organised - there's a lot I still haven't got around to doing.

Such as purchasing any type of shelving (mostly because it'd then require I assemble it).
...or unpacking my boxes of books and CDs and DVDs (mostly because I don't yet have any shelving).
...or finding out where the lint filter is located in my dryer (mostly because I'd then have absolutely no excuse for not doing my laundry).
...or learning how to use my oven (mostly because I'd then feel like I had to cook something more substantial than peanut butter sandwiches for dinner).

... but I digress. The thing I want to do the most in my house - 'more than laundry?!' I hear you cry. Yes.) is to learn the intended purpose of this mysterious hook in my living room. Failing that, I want to at least find a use for it.

I've become an obsessive madwoman. What is it?! What purpose could it possibly serve?!! Sometimes - usually when I'm not cleaning my lint filter or learning how to use my oven - I find myself staring at it, trying to think of interesting uses for such an oddly-placed metal hook.

Redecorating Options (feel free to contribute. It'll help me sleep at night)...

1. A conveniently located meat hook. For hanging any wild boars I happen to slaughter on my travels through suburban Canberra. It would be nice to have their carcasses at such a close proximity to my computer desk, when internet-surfing-exertion hunger pangs strike.
2. A pinata hanging device. For when you all buy me pinatas for my birthday (cough-August-26th-cough), so I can have a proper birthday party befitting a mature and grown up 24 year old.
3. A hook for some kind of really obnoxious wind-chime. To get revenge on my neighbours for The Beeping Incident of 2010.
4. Somewhere to hang my sweaty gym clothes. Because lord knows I recycle those babies more than I should be willing to admit, and some kind of airing apparatus would be beneficial for everybody.
5. A Stelarc-esque installation piece, involving the suspension of my naked body in mid-air by hooks and fishing wire.
6. A hook for a disco ball. With the mirror nearby, I think it could create a totally wild, trippy, out-of-control nightclub atmosphere. My solo dance parties in the corner of my living room would be OFF THE HOOK! ......HARHARHARhahahARARARAHHHH... geddit?!

That's all I got. If I don't find a useful purpose for this thing soon, I will a) jump to my death from my balcony out of frustration, or b) maim and cripple myself trying to detach it from my ceiling. Neither is a good option.

The Nostalgia Files: food edition

2011-06-29T14:50:00.000+10:00

This will probably come as an enormous, life-changing surprise to you all -- I really quite like food.

I partake in it multiple times a day. It makes me happy, on many levels. I love the taste and the smell. The texture, mouth-feel, temperature. I love preparing foods, purchasing ingredients, chopping and frying and baking. I love buying food, and happily spend hours browsing grocery stores, delis, and markets. I love the act of eating - sharing a meal with friends and family is a wonderful thing, as is enjoying a quiet, solitary meal, with just my crossword and music for company.

I've ALWAYS loved food, despite having a long and weird relationship with it. From an omg-eat-everything baby/toddler, to a super-picky child, to an eight year old vegetarian who didn't like vegetables, to a junk food fiend in my early teens, to a crash diet queen in my late teens, to a health food freak in my university days, to a born-again meat-eater, to....... whatever I am now. Somewhere in between, I think. All of the above and none of the above: I eat pretty much everything.

Except most seafood. Especially prawns. Which look like foetuses and that is not okay by me.

I love the way food can take you back. The memories associated with different dishes. Here are some of my absolute favourites from my childhood - some are pure trash, others are home-cooked classics that bring back the nicest memories of my childhood and my parents.

So, without further ado, I bring you this inevitably crazy-long entry...

[note: when putting this post together, I was originally emailing the owners of the photos for their permission. But then the list of foods got monstrously long and I got lazy. I've attached links to their original owners/locations, and full credit goes to them. If any of you have an objection to your pictures being used, let me know and I'll take them down, stat!]

Image from 123RF

Soft boiled eggs with buttered toast soldiers

Sometimes I'd manage to convince mum to let me use potato chips or fries instead of toast. Those were good days.
Related story: I once dated a boy who had never heard of 'soldiers'. It was that moment that I knew our relationship was doomed.

Image from Ramblings of a Pacioccona

Cheese on Toast

Even in high school, my friends would come over just to eat mum's cheese on toast for afternoon tea. Often accompanied by ...

Image from Aygee

Ribena

It tastes better out of the little individual boxes. Scientific fact.

Image from Food.People.Want

Falafels

When I was about 4 or 5 years old, my parents used to often take me to St Kilda on weekends. We'd walk along the beach, feed the seagulls, get ice cream, people-watch the hipsters, go to cafes (and I felt incredibly grown up and sophisticated, as I sipped my Babycino) and - once or twice- go to Luna Park. But my absolute FAVOURITE memory of these outings was the Falafel Man, who stood on a street corner, handing out samples of falafels, just cooked in his little portable deep fryer. They were blisteringly hot - still sizzling - and I loved the contrast of the unbelievably crispy, crunchy, shattering exterior, and soft and tender inside. I've never had better falafels, and my life is a quest to relive the beauty of these babies.
This, my friends, is how you get a vegetable-hating 5 year old to eat vegetables.

Image from 13 Cups

Semolina Porridge

I didn't have this often, but it stands out in my memory as something unique that my mum made. None of my friends at school ever had this for breakfast, and it was such a warm, cosy, squishy, comforting, filling food, yet still somehow light. On my last trip to Melbourne, I had it for breakfast at The Hardware Societe, and it was still as wonderful as I remember.

Image from FeedMe

Fried Potato Slices

From ages 8-10, I more or less lived on these. I'd just become a vegetarian, but hated pretty much every vegetable in existence/was the fussiest eater EVER. So I ate fried potatoes for pretty much every meal. Cooked in butter, then eaten between bread and butter, with a shitload of ketchup. Because it's important to include fruits and vegetables in every meal.

Image from YayMicro

Pancakes with lemon juice and sugar

Another classic mum dish. Her pancakes are the best in the world. She never made the big fat fluffy type pancakes (which I still consider GROSSLY INFERIOR)... Instead, ours were thin, eggy and crepe-like. We'd squeeze lemon juice on them, pour on sugar, and roll them up into tubes, then cut them into little slices to be eaten with a knife and fork. I can put away an alarming number of these.

Image from Food Network

Canned chicken noodle soup

Every day after pre-school, I'd go to my best friend Michael's house and eat chicken noodle soup, with bread for dipping. Never got old.

Image from Canadian D-Girl

Smarties

Sometimes I crave M&Ms, but mostly my heart belongs to Smarties. When you want Smarties, no other candy-coated-chocolate-disc will do. Their oddly soft, papery, dissolving shell, and colours that always seem somehow muted and pastel, are sacred to me.

Image from ZSZN

McDonald's chicken nuggets

I always went for nuggets when I got McDonald's Happy Meals. I was a foolish child who didn't like pickles and therefore hated the cheeseburgers. These days, I buy them pretty much JUST FOR the pickles. But chicken nuggets still rock my world.

Image from Dinner with the Omnivore

Crumpets

... leaking butter and golden syrup everywhere. Sticky fingers and food-stained face = my childhood in a nutshell.

Image from The English Kitchen

Tinned Spaghetti on Toast

Often this was baked beans instead, but there is something about the carb-on-carb action that is so dear to my heart.

Image from Life as a Cheese Danish

Porridge with milk, brown sugar and butter

The feeling I get eating hot porridge - drowned in milk to cool it down, with hard crumbly lumps of brown sugar and a biiiiig plop of butter right in the middle - is the closest I can get to explaining how I feel about my mother. Warm and comforting and delicious and sweet and balanced and filling and gooey. Mum-in-a-bowl.
I just wish my real mum had a giant lump of butter right in the centre of her face. That'd be awesome. I'd kiss her way more often.

Image from Adventures at Home

Milly Molly Mandy Potatoes

When mum first read me this story, I knew I needed to eat these potatoes for real. They were everything I hoped for and more...a little salt, a little pepper, and a LOTTTT of butter :)

Image from Losing Terry

Strawberry Big Ms

Probably my favourite photos of myself as a little kid is of me sitting on a window-sill, wearing a white dress with bright pink polkadots, which matches the Big M I'm slurping. The frames of my giant, old lady glasses are also pink. My hair is in pigtails and I'm sitting like a truckie with my legs splayed, so the whole world can see my underpants. Once I find this photo, it'll be my Facebook profile pic FOR SURE.

Image from Skywords with El Al

Potato Latkes

We went to a Jewish food fair when I was a little kid, and I still remember my first taste of real bagels and blintzes. But it was the latkes that really got me. I absolutely fell in love. They are a near perfect food, as far as I'm concerned. Wonderful with sour cream, or apple sauce, or powdered sugar, or salt and pepper, or honey, or ketchup, or WHATEVER. I nearly grate my fingers off every time I make them, but it's a small price to pay.

Image from Urban Playground

Apples and Cheese

This is still my go-to snack. Sweet, slightly tart, crisp apple + smooth - but still relative sharp and flavourful! - cheese = the greatest combination in the world.

Image from Kalyn's Kitchen

Celery with Peanut Butter

Another snack classic. And probably the only way you'll ever get me eating celery.

Image from iTV

Fish finger sandwiches

I recently ate one again, for the first time in probably 19 years or so. I can honestly say it was still wonderful, and I look forward to making them a regular part of my life again.

Image from Maggi

2 Minute Noodles (beef flavour)

I ate so many of these that I really think Child Protection Services should've stepped in. I refused any flavour but beef. OCCASIONALLY, under very desperate conditions, I'd accept chicken... but begrudingly.
My preferred method of consumption: Extract noodles, allow to cool a little until they're beginning to congeal/become hard and clumpy. Drain soup into separate bowl. Eat each separately, using bread and butter to dip into soup AND to put noodles on top of. Further proof of my undying love of carbs-on-carbs.

Image from Cookipedia

Vanilla Slices

My dad and I share a mutual love for all things 'slice' (see below!). We are complete snobs when it comes to 'snot blocks', and are forever on a mission to find The Ultimate. Country town bakeries across the nation fear us.

Image from Monarch Cakes

Caramel Slices

The sweeter, the sicklier, THE BETTER. But we do have standards: it's gotta be REAL chocolate. Give me that compound bullshit and I'll glass you in the eye.

Image from Pictures Depot

Milky Way chocolate bars

(the Australian version - check out Wikipedia for the difference).

Mum used to sometimes buy these for me 'when I'd been really good' while grocery shopping, because they were relatively small and 'healthier' and less likely to send me on a completely deranged sugar high. I have this really clear memory of walking home from the supermarket one day, and smelling chocolate. "MUM! I CAN SMELL CHOCOLATE!!! WHERE IS IT?!?!?" .... she looked guilty. I noticed a little smear of brown in the corner of her mouth. That sneaky woman had bought herself one, but not one for me. I have never let her forget The Milky Way Incident of 1992.

Image from BBC Good Food

Scalloped Potato Bake

This was a staple at family barbeques, and probably the only reason I enjoyed them. I would regularly ask mum to make POTATOES-WITH-MILK-AND-CREAM-AND-CHEESE!!! She knew what I meant.

Image from Aroma Cookery

Peanut Butter and Honey on Toast

Jam & PB is good; honey & PB is better.
[for the record... PB and jam AND honey AND Nutella AND maple syrup is the best... but sometimes I try to exhibit SOME self restraint]

Image from handmadewithlove1

Beef Stroganoff with Pasta (and buttloads of sour cream).

I've talked a lot about my mum's cooking in this entry, so it's about time dad got some credit. He makes the absolute best stroganoff in the world. There is no contest. Everything else is embarrassingly pitiful in comparison. You shouldn't even try to top it. You will just fail and I will be ashamed of you.

The end. Common themes: potatoes, butter, anything-on-top-of-bread. Yep. Some things never change.

Question time: what are YOUR nostalgia foods?! Was your childhood diet as 'balanced' as mine!!? ;)

The Nostalgia Files: TV edition

2011-06-26T20:16:00.042+10:00

In understanding a person, it's very important to understand their past: their stories, their upbringings, the things that mattered to them and shaped the way they view the world.

The following are, more or less, the reason I am a worthwhile human being.

Sometimes I think I need to have YouTube confiscated from me :)

Other news:
- As of this weekend, I finally own a washing machine. Yes, I have spent the last almost-a-year hand-washing everything, feeling like some kind of caveman bashing my clothes against rocks on the riverbank. I have never been so excited about an appliance in my life.
- Tomorrow morning I am going on my first run outside in MONTHS. After my last half marathon, I've barely run at all, except for the occasional 10 minute jog on the treadmill at the gym. Because I'm really clever and sensible, I've scheduled this first run to coincide with the lowest overnight temperature we've had in a long time. Pray for me.
- This time next week I will be in the most monumental food coma, following my Pizza Hut road trip (which I mentioned here).
- I will not lie to you.... I am ridiculous excited about the upcoming Harry Potter movie and am counting down the days.
- It is exactly two months until my birthday. All my life, I've been adamant that I would be married with babies by the time I was 24. I don't like to fail at anything, so this means I have two months to secure a husband, get knocked up, and birth multiple children. WISH ME LUCK@!#!%$%!!!
- Pringles and pretzels, topped with baked beans and enormous amounts of cheese, then nuked in the microwave until it's all melty pretty much counts as nachos, right? And is therefore a legitimate dinner? Yes? YESSS???
- I've had some really disturbing dreams lately... including one where Jack Nicholson and Oprah were gettin' it on, in the hopes of getting her pregnant. I should point out that it was current Jack Nicholson and Oprah, not their former (read: younger, hotter, more fertile) selves. So not only did the vision hurt my eyes, I also suspect the attempted pregnancy was a lost cause.
- For the record, Oprah likes to be on top. Just in case anyone was wondering.

when will you people learn?! DON'T ENCOURAGE ME (or you get crap like this).

2011-06-19T19:07:00.003+10:00

My homeboy-since-grade-2-REPREZEENTTtt Brendan (who I recently saw for the first time since 1999 at this year's Canberra Half Marathon.. trippy!), encouraged me to post. By which I mean, he pandered to my already-inflated ego by saying he enjoys my blog.

.... big mistake, buddy.

So, um.. because I value his opinion and would not want to disappoint, I will put together this random assortment of tidbits as they enter my brain.

FIRST:
Just when I think my mother can't get any more awesome, she buys me this book.

Which once and for all confirms my suspicions that a) despite their gruff exteriors, mammoths were particularly enlightened creatures, and b) dinosaurs have terrible posture and could benefit from learning a thing or two from their woolly companions.

SECOND:
The graduate recruitment video I mentioned in my last post is now up. Sadly, they cut all my favourite scenes of myself. Bastards.

THIRD:
Friday I said goodbye to my beautiful friend Jessie who's leaving to live in Melbourne. She is a rockstar, the nicest person I know, and one of the loves of my life, and I will miss her terribly.

Photo-spam time:

omg how embarrassing we wore the same thing.

with OUR BOYZZzzzz

Where is my sequined tshirt?! I would like one saying 'natural disaster to be [due to gravitational pull of my enormous head]'

Together, we have gone to many, many parties...

...and dinners....

... and picnics!

Secret: sometimes I wear glasses and then people are tricked into thinking I'm clever and taking me seriously. That's how I convinced Jessie to be my friend... she thought I'd be useful in the long run. Sorry Jess.

Jessie is kinda shy and hates cameras (and will probably punch me in the face if she ever sees this post) so I try to make her feel better by photo-bombing every picture and deliberately looking worse than she ever possibly could. Just out of the kindness of my heart.

OLD PHOTO TIME! Our grade 12 formal. Awww.

Because I knew that she would be devastated without me by her side, I made her a special farewell present...

Contents: 8 packets of different flavoured Mentos (in high school, we'd buy a few packets before every maths class. It was the only thing that got us through), a Billy Joel CD (in honour of our days blasting Uptown Girl on the drives to and from school), a giant tin of Milo (because she taught me how to make Milo Mousse and for that I will be forever grateful), a packet of gum (because I am the official gum-supplier of our group of friends and I don't want her to risk less-than-stellar breath in my absence), and a gift voucher for Target (we have spent many hours together in Target, buying ridiculous, brightly coloured underwear. When she misses me, I want her to be able to buy a frilly, fluorescent orange g-string, and remember better days...)

FOUR:
Here are some links I've enjoyed this week...

One: Fat is delicious and I'm so sick of everybody de-fatting my dairy products! Lindsay's post made me happy because this is all stuff I've been trying to convince my friends of for YEARS! GIVE ME MY GODDAMN FAT BACK, YOU SICK BASTARDS. ps. On a related note, I have this hanging up at my desk at work.
Two: In my heart, I am a twelve year old boy, and I friggin' LOVE pokemon. This made me giddy with happiness while simultaneously scaring the crap out of me.
Three: I KNEW my race times should've been faster than they were!! This explains a lot. I love science.
Four: I am trying so hard to get Boyus Angfriend to buy me one of these for my birthday.
Five: I cried like a baby reading this. Full on snotty, slobbery, dripping SOBBING.
Six: On a happier note, I'm making this (or something similar) for dinner tonight. Wahoo!
Seven: IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW.
Eight: I laughed so hard reading this and now refer to myself as Lizzi Lizzisons. Or Ms Ingram Ingramsons who is currently sitting on a Chairy Chairisons while using her Computey Compisons.
Nine: I want to take these to work every day for lunch. They're pretty much the same as a sandwich, right?
Ten: I now cannot listen to any song without words like 'an unopened can of baked beans hitting a relatively firm sofa cushion' crossing my mind.

Anddddddddddd that's all I got. PEACE.

IMPORTANT NEWS.

2011-06-09T21:44:00.001+10:00

Some very important pieces of information:

1. Parker's now make banana bread flavoured pretzels. They are worth seeking out. If nothing else, then because they're cheaper than buying real bananas these days (I bought a single banana for $3.50 yesterday. BARGAIN).
2. Twisties now come in cheeseburger flavour. They are also worth seeking out, especially if you are the weird person who steals everybody else's discarded pickles when eating at McDonald's AKA me.
3. The Nuffnang-sponsored Canberra bloggers meet-up will be held at Cream on Sunday June 17th from 2-4pm. It will be worth attending (for the following reasons: cake, coffee, company, endless opportunities to whore it up in front of 863876396 bloggers' cameras).
4. Tomorrow my work releases a new report on the health and wellbeing of young people in Australia. The graphic designer ran out of appropriate stock photos, so I will be featured on the cover as 'token young office-worker woman,' engaged in a very serious phone conversation while wearing a man's business shirt.
5. Because one CLAIM TO FAME was not enough for this particular camera-hussy, I will also soon be featured in a recruitment video on the jobs page of my work's website. In this, I will star as the following: girl walking up stairs carrying yoga mat; girl leaving the building while cheerfully greeting some co-workers (for the record, the off-camera dialogue was 'HAHAHA OH HI JEREMY. WHY ARE YOU SO GAY ALL THE TIME? HAHAHAHAH WOW YOU SURE ARE LOOKING HOMOSEXUAL TODAY. HAHAHAH OKAY BYE.' because I'm very mature and enjoy belittling my colleagues); girl sitting on floor in 'yoga' poses; girl sitting at desk having a pleasant conversation with Token Black Guy #1.
6. I'm planning a road trip with a few friends, purely to visit one of the only surviving Pizza Hut restaurants - as opposed to takeaway/delivery places - left in Australia. I am so excited to be reunited with my beloved salad and dessert bar. I can hardly sleep.
7. I still can't fit into any of my jeans. #s 1, 2 and 6 may have something to do with this.

Fin.

There is no HACHIS PARMENTIER RECETTE here.

2011-06-02T11:33:00.001+10:00

I reallywanted to start blogging more often – but my lastentry set me up for failure. My promise of updating ya’ll on my improved,light-on-junk-food diet was rigged: what I MEANT was, ‘I want to brag about howawesome I’m doing’.

I failed to considerthat maybe – just maybe – I would not do fantastically well in this challenge.And so I’ve been putting off updating until I can say “HI GUYS! I DID REALLYGREAT! I AM A LEAN MEAN GREEN SUPERFOOD GODDESS AND AM POOPING OUT ENTIREBRUSSELS SPROUTS!”

Sadly (orthankfully? I’m not sure), this has not been the case. Let’s just say that mysugar (and salt, butter, Pop Tart, pretzel, KFC, ice cream and Tim Tam)addiction goes deeper than previously anticipated. Still, I will persevere…….becauseI am cheap and refuse to buy new jeans. So the ones I currently own NEED to fitme again or else I am in for a very cold winter.

… unless Iget even fatter and my extra ‘padding’ keeps me warm. Hmm. Pantsless AND warm?!This is sounding like the perfect deal to me.

Anotherupside: at 23 years old I finally feel like I have something (not to beconfused with ‘much’) in the boob department.

So, in short:there may or may not be any future updates on my ‘progress’. I might, however,begin taking daily photographs of my chest so you can all watch littleMary-Kate and Ashley grow before your eyes!!!!

I hate tothink what kind of visitors this post will yield. Already, the search keywordsthat lead people to my blog are somewhat troubling to me.

Myfavourites?

“YOUNG LITTLETITS”

“COUGHED UP ASTINKY WHITE BALL”

“PHOTOS OFFROZEN COLESLAW”

“PICTURES OFTHIGHGINAS”

“HACHISPARMENTIER RECETTE”

“WHAT IS THEGREATEST DINNER OF ALL TIME?”

“REALLY SHITTY PHOTOS”

Dear visitorswho come seeking shitty photos of young, little tits, frozen coleslaw, andthighginas: I am sorry.

Dear everyoneelse: I am also sorry.

On anunrelated note, here is a picture of my latest stupid injury:

After ahardcore session of officeparkour-ing. Lesson: wheel-y spin-yoffice chairs do not a good jumping castle make

To conclude, I bring you a picture of my little workplace friends. They have killer eyebrows and wear funnyhats while herding a pink chicken. Kind of like me.

I really am going to try to post more, though. Don't worry - the second I DO start pooping out whole brussels sprouts, you guys will be the first to know about it.

Oh, and for those seeking answers to "WHAT IS THE GREATEST DINNER OF ALL TIME?"... I have a lil something up my sleeve that may solve this dilemma for you in the coming months. STAY TUNED!!!!!!!

pointless post/postless point? at least it has pictures...

2011-05-07T23:01:00.002+10:00

My main reason for blogging is sheer boredom. Which is probably why I don't post particularly often: I'm really not without-stuff-to-do that often. I'm not tonight either, for the record. My sink is full of dishes and my dirty laundry (the literal kind, not figurative, I'm afraid) is overflowing. I'd sworn I'd get an early night tonight, so I could go to bed, finish my book, and sleep.

But no. It is a Saturday night and I am sitting up eating Pop-Tarts, Skittles, Easter eggs and ... broccoli. I made my mum a 6-year-old-esque Mother's Day collage out of Starbursts. I used my remote access to check my work email approximately eight times. I Facebook-stalked exes and their exes and their exes' exes. Then I got freaked out because my stalking just led me back in a circle to myself.

I made a great SPIN CLASS HEROES playlist for tomorrow.

click to embiggen!

(and yes, my iPod's name is 'i-Diddy'. Shut up.)

During 'H-to-the-Izzo', I make anyone who braves my class sing 'L-TO-THE-IZZO! L-TO-THE-IZZAY!!' and point theatrically at me. I lap it up and preen and pose. It's really nice of my friends to humour me like this... I think my mum might be paying them.

For the record, I'm not actually a spin instructor, just a crazy person. I started the long boring process of 'becoming qualified' but it was expensive and time-consuming. So now I just make up classes for myself and occasionally friends who tag along. The classes usually consist of 90% rap. With some Paul Kelly and Tracy Chapman thrown in because - when I'm not acting like an angry 13 year old boy - I am a 50-something year old woman whose children don't appreciate her and just wants a man to make her FEEL SAFE, OKAY?! IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK.

Speaking of men, my gentleman friend is out being sociable and manly, playing pool and drinking beer and spitting on women or something. Which is probably another reason I'm awake and bored. I don't have anyone to listen to me babble or rub my back or keep me warm in bed while I do crosswords.

Which reminds me... the gentleman in question thinks it's really funny to take surprise phone photos of me while we're in bed, and I'm tired and grumpy.

In response, I stealthily stole his phone, edited said picture with some stylish decorations, and made it his wallpaper. So now he can look at my pretty cheerful face everywhere he goes!!!!!

He is such a lucky guy :)

In other exciting news, here is a picture of my least hardcore exercise-related injury ever:

On both my thumbs I have elliptical trainer blisters. I've had some cool injuries before. Huge bloody gashes up and down my body from running in crazy bushland. Fractured feet. Callouses that are rock-solid. Scars and bruises and scabs from mountain runs gone wrong. I'm missing multiple toenails. I even got a black eye once.
But this? Just... lame.

And now, just because I can, here is a picture from my recent work trip to Melbourne.

If you're a regular reader of Hannah's blog, it might ring a few bells.

Now, I have something semi-serious to say. For real. Are you ready?!?!? As of tomorrow, I am turning over a new leaf and attempting to STOP EATING SO MUCH CRAP. Anyone who knows me in real life will understand that this is a huge deal. I am the person who regularly eats cake for breakfast. Lunch today was 3 giant chocolate bunnies left over from Easter. I am often found just eating sugar out of the bowl with a spoon. Same goes for honey. And Nutella. And jam. And maple syrup. Sometimes, I put jellybeans in my cereal. The other night for dinner, I ate a rocky road sandwich.

Basically, I am always on a sugar high or HORRIBLY CRASHING LIKE A TRAINWRECK. And I've got to the point where I'm feeling like a pile o' shit (technical term). The sad truth is that I AM GETTING OLD, and it seems that my body can no longer handle the huge amounts of sugar I enjoy ingesting. Sigh.

So this is basically just a public warning to my loved ones: I apologise if I bite your face off or run you over with my car. I'm not sure if I'm capable of a cheerful disposition and laid-back nature without 700 kilograms of gummibears coursing through my veins.

In short, this is going to be veeeery interesting. I'm trying to make this 'fun' by treating it as a science experiment. As I go about my daily activities, I will narrate the events that transpire in a David Attenborough-style voice-over. That is, if I'm able to get out of bed. I'm not quite sure I remember how regular people manage to drive to work without first eating a bowl of oats-mixed-with-half-a-tin-of-frosting.

I'm be sure to report back on how it's going! ... assuming I have the energy to press the power button on my computer :\

"Elizabeth reaches to turn on the computing apparatus. For a fairly large, apartment-dwelling mammal, she is surprisingly agile. But, as she nears her goal, the difficulty of the task at hand becomes clear, and her energy is rapidly dwindling ... Her hand - so close to the power button - falls to the ground, and she begins her long winter of hibernation; in a state of limbo until her mate returns from playing pool and replenishes her stocks of Oreos..."

lists, chocolate, and disturbing delivery room scenes. you're welcome.

2011-04-23T18:36:00.001+10:00

HI EVERYBODY.

This post is brought to you from THE GREATEST LONG WEEKEND EVER. Easter and ANZAC Day have this year fallen at the same time: they have merged into one huge, pulsing, throbbing mutant, Frankensteinian 5 day holiday. Because I am very smart, I took Thursday off work, bringing the weekend up to a whopping 6 days of nothingness. It is a beautiful thing.

With this extra time on my hands, I thought blogging would be a good idea. But then I remembered I don't really have anything to say. But seeing as that rarely stops me, I will tell you a few random and not-very-interesting things...

NUMBER ONE!
I finally got around to updating my links (partially... there are lots more to be added but I am lazy). They contain a random assortment of sites I visit often. They tend to revolve around cooking, eating out, fitness, running, absurdist humour, celebrity gossip, and places from which I make impulsive online purchases. AKA a pretty accurate representation of my life.
One day I will get around to categorising them, but for now, just click them for an exciting lucky dip of internet wonder!!!

NUMBER TWO!
I have spent a few days with my nephews and being around small, adorable children sets off all kinds of weird hormonal signals in my body. I can practically feel my uterus lining itself. I NEED TO PROCREATE.

NUMBER THREE!
My parents are wonderful because (among other reasons) they knew I was visiting so stocked up on broccoli, brussels sprouts, and peanut butter. Aww. They really DO love me!

NUMBER FOUR!
I fell over in some stinging nettle and now my legs are covered in sores and scabs. They're swollen and red and puffy. And itchy. I look like I have some horrible skin disease, on top of already grossly misshapen, sausage-like legs. This is doubly sad as I have always considered my legs my best (physical) asset. Without them, I am nothing. WHY GOD?! WHY??! WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE JUST BEEN MY FACE!?!?!?

NUMBER FIVE!
Tomorrow is Easter Sunday which means that - after tomorrow - all the associated merchandise is on SALE! It is my yearly tradition to almost send myself into debt/diabetes buying discounted chocolate. I cannot wait.

NUMBER SIX!
I am going to Melbourne with work next week and I cannot wait. If anyone wants to hang with some totally creepy girl from the internet for dinner on Monday/breakfast or lunch on Tuesday, let me know! I promise I won't rape you, hack your body to pieces, and dump your remains in an alleyway :)

NUMBER SEVEN!
Just to prove how normal and well-balanced I am, I drew you all a pretty picture to celebrate this very special, sacred seasonal occasional!

I want you to remember this while you're chowing down on your Easter goodies Please take a moment to think of what the Easter Bunny has sacrificed so that you can spend the day in a sugar-soma. Thank you.

HAPPY EASTERRRRR!

I may never be an athlete, but my facial expressions surely qualify for the Special Olympics.

2011-04-13T20:07:00.001+10:00

So despite my crippling anxieties and moments of self-doubt, I did complete the Canberra Half Marathon on Sunday. AND I survived, which at times felt unlikely.

The preparatory things on my lists almost all amounted to nothing: my mum was sick and unable to come to Canberra for the race (thus I did not have her to cuddle me at the end or buy me ice cream), I did not go to yoga the day before, I did not visit the old-fashioned candy store, I did not go to bed by 10pm.

Instead, I slept in and slothed around all day Saturday. That night, I stayed up til 3am, eating nachos, poptarts, leftover KFC (you'll be pleased to know I did complete that item from my list), and an entire pack of Tim Tams. Because, you know, binging on junk food (all of which typically upsets your tummy at the best of times) is ALWAYS a smart thing to do the night before an athletic event. You heard it here first.

2.5 hours later, it was Sunday morning. I snoozed my alarm approximately 13 times, didn't eat breakfast, sped to the race, getting dressed in the car.

It poured with rain, my pretty shoes got soaked. Sopping wet socks led to enormous, juicy, soggy, waterlogged blisters.

The slight cold I'd been feeling brewing for a few days finally reared its ugly head. My chest ached and my lungs burned and my entire body felt like it was made of lead. I wheezed and coughed and spluttered the whole way. Every step felt like I was dragging myself out of quicksand.

Nonetheless, I kept going, with teeth gritted. For much of the race I ran with my eyes closed, occasionally bursting out a lyric from whatever song was on my iPod........"REAL SLIM SHADY YEAH I'M THE REAL SHADY".........."GONNA BRING YOU TO YOUR SHA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-KNEES! KNEES!".............."HOMEGIRL TAKE YOUR MOTHERFUCKING SHIRT OFF!"... etc.

But whatever, I finished. It sucked and hurt and some REALLY FRIGGING CREEPY MAN WHO'D POOPED HIS PANTS AT KILOMETRE #6 DECIDED TO BEFRIEND ME, but I finished nonethless. Way slower than I wanted (1:53... I wanted sub 1:45), but all things considered, I'll take it.

Now, I felt bad after my last entry because there were no pretty pictures. And if you guys have an attention span like mine, you require pretty pictures.

Sadly, I do not have any "PRETTY PICTURES" to share with you. Instead, I bring you...

HALF MARATHON PICTURES. Or: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH LIZZI'S FACE. OH SWEET JESUS.

This is my 'GET BACK MOTHERFUCKER, YOU DON'T KNOW ME LIKE THAT!' face. Even the man behind me is like '....oh...my.....lordddd...'
[for the record he is not the one who crapped himself]

Let's take a closer look:

Yep. I second your sentiments, alarmed running fellow. Oh. My. Lord. Fierce.

Next, we have this little gem...

This is my 'Singing along to Whitney Houston while engaging in slightly painful sex' face.

Oooh baby.

Next we have my 'Auditioning for the Wicked Witch of the West in the scene where "I'M MEEELLLTTTINGGGGGgg"' face.

On closer inspection, you will notice the streaks of mascara down my cheeks...

Now, before ya'll get all up in my grill about what a dumbass I am, allow me to clarify: I am not vain or stupid. I did not decide that wearing makeup was a good idea when running 21kms in the rain. No, I did not do that. Instead, I am forced to admit that I am a grub who struggles with basic hygiene practices and this is, in fact, the remnants of my mascara from the day before. I'm glad we cleared that up.

The one last photo I have isn't soooo bad, despite the weird vagina/buttcheek/i-don't-even-know I seem to have grown in my inner left thigh...

This is the picture I will show my grandchildren. Because, for one brief moment - despite my thighgina - I appear to be winning.

And, on days like Sunday, appearances sometimes count more than the real thing.

run little bunny.

2011-04-05T16:32:00.000+10:00

Warning: long, self-indulgent entry ahead. Many lists. Much thinking out loud. Beware.

I’m running the Canberra Half Marathon on Sunday and for some reason this is making me want to pee myself with fear. Sometimes the best way to cope with your fears is to sit down and tease out all the things that are scaring you. By identifying them, I’m hoping I can overcome them.

So, here is my train of thought, AKA why I am afraid...

1.   I have run a full marathon before, for which I had very low expectations (ie. finish it alive). I fulfilled this, and instantly began to feel that I could do better.
2.   A half marathon is half a marathon (I know this because I'm very clever and have a university degree) and therefore I should be able to do it TWICE AS WELL.
3.   But really, given it’s a shorter distance and I won’t need to hold back/conserve so much energy, I should be able to do it MORE THAN TWICE AS WELL.
4.   At this point, my brain goes like this: &*!%^%!$6tgeygsy5r%ER%&26823t56r~!~@!6t6 and spazzes out and gets confused and my mathematical abilities fail me. Thus, my calculations begin to suggest I should be able to complete it ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN TIMES BETTER than I did the full marathon.
5.   I realise this is not likely.
6.   I feel sad and inadequate.
7.   I worry that I will disappoint myself, my friends, my family, my boyfriend, the internet, my coworkers, the prime minister, my dog, and Hugh Grant’s mother.
8.    This will make me feel embarrassed and ashamed. I do not deal well with either of these feelings.
9.    The fear of being a disappointment/embarrassed/ashamed makes me afraid of even attempting it and means I want to curl up into a ball and not even try.

I’m not even going to bother commenting on how stupid this is because you’re all smart cookies and can figure it out. SUFFICE TO SAY: this is a lame outlook to have so I am making an effort to change my mindset by making this whole experience FUN AND EXCITING instead of STRESSFUL AND DAUNTING.

So, here are my stupid methods of preparation in the lead-up to Sunday’s race…

1.   This week of tapering is a chance for a much-needed rest from physical activity. This week, I am a sloth. While this kinda drives me crazy, it’s also such a deliciously self-indulgent feeling. Not rushing too/from training means I have more time for myself, and so I’m enjoying putting some degree of effort into my appearance. Today, I wore earrings. Tomorrow, I may even have painted fingernails.
2.   I’m getting a massage on Friday morning from the beautiful Amber. She is the best and I have truly never been happier to have somebody squeeze and knead my butt. I’m even going to shave my legs for her because I know she’s a hairphobe. DON’T SAY I DON’T DO ANYTHING NICE FOR PEOPLE.
3.   Friday night I’m getting my hair cut! This is so overdue. I’m making the most of this tapering period (AKA HOLY-SHIT-I-AM-SO-BORED-WTF-DO-OTHER-PEOPLE-DO-WHEN-THEY’RE-NOT-TRAINING!??!) by doing all the stuff I’ve been putting off. Plus maybe a few less ounces of hair will make me go faster!
4.   After my haircut, I’m hitting up the KFC drive-thru. Angus made the mistake of once telling me that Usain Bolt basically lives on KFC so I’ve used that knowledge to justify my love of The Colonel and everything he stands for :)
5.   Saturday morning I am going to yoga with some of my favourite people in the world. After the class we all sit around and drink coffee in the foyer and talk a whole bunch of nonsense, while luxuriating in the gloriousness of our stretched and refreshed muscles.
6.   After yoga I’m going to pick up my race pack and try to score as much free stuff from the expo as possible. I’m the queen of freebies and am certain I’ll be able to nab some awesome goodies.
7.   Then I’m off to an old-fashioned/import candy store to load up on all my faves so I can stuff myself up to my eyeballs with sugar :D OVERSEAS READERS – who wants to do a candy/chocolate/snack foods swap?!?! I will seriously make you the best care packages of goodies ever.
8.   Depending on how I’m feeling – possibly a light crosstrainer session/treadmill jog at the gym. I always run best when I’m well-rested but not TOTALLY rested. Plus a few endorphins always helps calm my nerves/reassures me that I haven’t forgotten how to move more than the distance from the couch to the fridge.
9.   I’m spending the afternoon making myself the most DELICIOUS DINNER EVER (currently undecided but most like lasagne or pizza because they’re my faves. Carbs + cheese = really all I need in life to be happy) and reading blog entries about other people’s races because for some reason I find that really comforting/reassuring/inspiring.
10.   The night will be spent on the couch, painting my toenails (red – everyone knows it makes you go faster), watching TV and eating bucketloads of ice cream with every topping imaginable.
11.   By 10pm, I will be snug in my PJs and tucked into bed! Okay this is not anything new because I am a granny but I like reminding myself anyway.
12.   Sunday morning I am going to make myself a delicious breakfast, listen to some amazing music while I get ready, go to the race and warm up while hanging out with some of the coolest people I know (big shout-outs to my totally hardcore running buddies + ESPECIALLY BOMBALA-HANNAH’S DAD…I'm gonna be totally creepy and stalkery and pace myself against you! And I can’t wait to get our picture taken together!!!!!!!!!!! Hahaha)

I’m also compiling a list of things to things to remember while I’m running. My biggest problem is that I just mentally give up and simply can’t be bothered trying anymore. This is always really upsetting for me – I hate the feeling of knowing could’ve tried harder. But when I know I’ve given it my all, I’m able to accept my abilities and feel proud of my achievements and look to the future with HOPE AND OPTIMISM!

So, here are the things that will motivate me to keep pushing when I really (REALLY) don’t want to…

1.   Remember: it’s MEANT to hurt. This is a RACE. NOW is the time to push your limits and give it your all.
2.   The faster you go, the sooner it’s over! (and then you get to go out for ice cream!) By 9am, you’ll be done, so get it over with and you can spend the whole rest of the day watching DVDs on the couch and making your boyfriend rub your icecream-bloated belly.
3.   21.1km means it ends with 100 metres. This was always “YOUR DISTANCE” (ie. you kicked butt at it), so smash it! Even if you slooowly plod your way through the other 21kms, absolutely give that last 100m your all so you can finish the race looking and feeling like a champion.
4.   You have the most badass shoes on the planet. They are superhero shoes. You look like The Flash. Nothing can stop you in these shoes.
5.   Your playlist is an incredible magical rollercoaster of wonder. Each of these songs has been carefully selected for its awesome beat… MATCH THAT BEAT TO CREATE THE MAXIMUM MUSICAL EXTRAVAGANZA!
6.   Showing off feels awesome. Do your best so you can spend the next 19 months bragging about how fantastic you did.
7.    You have a really cute little running outfit picked out. The more people you pass, the more people get to see you prancing around looking adorable!
8.   Your calves are monstrous wildebeests. Your quads are gargantuan wooly (more true than I care to admit) mammoths. Your hamstrings are enormous, fierce, pulsing, crushing demons. You are a finely-tuned, highly-trained MONSTER. If nothing else, enjoy the opportunity to show off those legs and psych out the competition. They’ll take one look at them and cower in terror.
9.    The weather is going to be AMAZING... perfect sunny Canberra autumn. You have great people around you. You have a cute new haircut and an even cuter outfit. Your mum - AKA your best friend in the world - is waiting at the finish line and will love you and think you're the bomb no matter how terribly you do....and then she'll take you out for ice cream :) You might not have many toenails left these days but the ones you do have are painted the best ever shade of red. You've got hours of incredible music to listen to. Your new shoes are BEAUTIFUL. Your pockets are stuffed full of candy. In short: this has the potential to be the BEST DAY EVER so enjoy every second.

Okay. Whew. I don’t know if it’s the words or just the simple fact that I included THREE numbered lists (I LOVE LISTS SO MUCH!) in this entry, but now I am feeling excited and happy. Wish me (and my new shoesies! This is their public debut!) luck internet-friends!

recent occurrences (with accompanying shitty phone photos!)

2011-03-16T14:30:00.000+11:00

A compilation of various things from recent times...

I went to a 70s themed charity ball on Friday night. Apparently, I am dating Borat. Great.

A couple of weekends ago, it was my beloved Jenbob's 'Hen's Night' - which took the form of a Disney-themed fancypants morning tea at the Hyatt Hotel.

The blushing ~~rodent~~ bride-to-be.

CAN YOU GUESS WHICH DISNEY PRINCESS I AM?!?! (our e-friendship rests on this, okay guys? Not kidding. I will be judging you harshly if you don't know)

It was a co-worker's birthday over the weekend. Given we couldn't celebrate on the day, we made sure this very festive, The Office-inspired decoration was awaiting her.

Speaking of work, my desk is basically one giant pantry. First shelf - coffee, Nutella, Vegemite, peanut butter, salt, pepper, lil soy sauce fishy and Milo oats (thanks Hannah!)

Second - more cereal, an Easter egg (never too early. Hot Cross Buns have been featuring in my diet since January), more soy sauce, chia seeds, more chocolate, apple. I forgot to take a picture of my candy stash in my desk drawer. I always have the basics on hand... my colleagues love coming for meetings at my desk because they leave with treats!

Despite the fact that I'm obviously very busy eating, lately a few too many people within my workplace have awkwardly asked 'ermmm.. so.. uh... what exactly is it you do here?'

To save them trouble, I have stuck up this handy sign above my desk and simply refer them to it when a look of puzzlement crosses their faces. ALSO - my little pink lanterns are the bomb :)

My most recent foot injuries comprise of a stress fracture (hence the strapping), a(nother) lost toenail, and a horrendous nail-painting job. Pretty.

In other injury-related news, check out my hardcore hula-hooping bruises! I also hope you thoroughly enjoy my underwear and stylish grey tracksuit pants.

THE END. Lunchtime = over and I am going back to 'do whatever it is I do here'. Looking forward to an afternoon of Easter chocolate and then a killer workout at the gym. GONNA KICK MY OWN ASS SO GOOD. Peace!

xyz

2011-03-14T13:21:00.000+11:00

Things have been a little quiet on ye ol' blogfront lately. This either means...
a) I am growing a life.
b) I am boring/uninspired/have nothing much to say.
c) I am being held captive my militant forces in Zimbabwe. I managed to escape my captors and make my way to the nearest internet cafe to post this, but I fear they are not far behind!!!!!!! SEND HELP............and M&Ms.

... ahem. Speaking of alphabetical lists, there's been a lot of 'The ABCs of Me' questionnaires floating around in Blogtopia recently. I thought about doing one of them (mostly so that I'd have an excuse to post AKA do away with the aforementioned life/lack of inspiration/Zimbabwe kidnappers), but the questions were pretty boring and standard and basically just covered stuff I've written about here a bajillion times anyway. Soooo I made up my own words thus proving that I know the alphabet AND have at least 26 words in my vocabulary! SCORE!

An Alphabetical List of Stuff About Me

A... Apples? They feature very prominently in my diet. I eat at least 4 a day, core, seeds and all. Favourite varieties: Pink Lady, Royal Gala, Sundowner, Granny Smith. Sometimes my boyfriend shows up at my house with apples for me and I basically want to molest him on the spot.
B... Bookcases? I have none. But I do have Boxes, stacked all around my house, in which I store my 634787853 books. This is handy because whenever people come over, I just pull out some boxes and we have an instant coffee table!
C... Costco? The Canberra store is due to open in July and I am SO EXCITED. I am a total tight-ass/thrifty so I can't wait to buy all my food in bulk (note: 'bulk' to regular people; normal everyday serving size to me)
D... Disney? I love Disney movies so friggin' much. Favourites: The Rescuers, The Little Mermaid, Monsters Inc., and The Lion King. The latter possibly because of ...
E... Elton John? I love that man. I went to an outdoor concert a few years ago when I was sick with a nasty chest infection. There was torrential rain that night and I got so, so sick and was shaking so uncontrollably the first aid people had to strap me down in fear I was going to crack a rib. They tried to pry my phone out of my hands so they could call somebody to come and get me, but I wouldn't let them. Apparently I started screaming repeatedly at the nice 70+ year old volunteer nurse "ELTON FUCKING JOHN IS PLAYING THE MOTHERFUCKING CROCODILE ROCK AND YOU'RE TRYING TO SEND ME HOME?! NO. I'm sorry. NO!" Oh man, I'm sorry nice old lady.
F... Feet? Nicely shaped, but horrifically ugly due to years of abuse (AKA running). They are basically giant callouses, with just a few scraggly little bits of toenail remaining, which I routinely paint in obnoxiously bright colours. Pretty!
G... Gym membership? I have a free one from having worked at a gym for about 3 years. I exploit it hugely, and on average spend about 2 hours a day there. I also shower more frequently at the gym than I do at home, and steal the crosswords out of their newspapers every day, shhhhhh.
H... Hula Hoop? I JUST PUT THIS IN COS I WANTED TO TELL EVERYONE THAT I'M STARTING HULA HOOP CLASSES ON TUESDAY NIGHT AND I'M GONNA ABSOLUTELY SUCK AND IT'S GONNA BE RADDDDD.
I... Impulse buys? Lately, a lot. I should be banned from online shopping, credit cards, and shopping malls.This week I've bought a squillion DVD boxed sets, a buttload of makeup/skincare products, cheap Aldi workout clothes, and several varieties of peanut butter from overseas.
J... Jeans? I love jeans, but hardly ever wear them. I've gained weight + my calves and quads have got 8563744578 times more muscular in recent months and I can no longer fit into any that I own! I basically live in running shorts, or skirts at work. I should buy new jeans, but they're expensive and time-consuming to find good ones. When winter comes, I'm pretty sure I'll be bringing shame upon my family by succumbing to 'Jeggings'.
K... Knowledgeable? There are a few things I know a lot about (and countless other things I am CLUELESS about). They are: apostrophe use, how to effective pop out blackheads, how to disguise when I haven't washed my hair in 567338 days, and the best foods for putting maple syrup on (hint: pretty much everything).
L... Laundry? I DON'T OWN A WASHING MACHINE. Pity me. And I'm too cheap/lazy to go to a laundromat so I hand-wash everything in the tub and/or take it in the shower with me. Drying clothes is a huge pain in the ass and every piece of furniture in my apartment is always covered with clothes airing. On the upside, most of my clothes smell like really great shampoo!
M... Massages? Ughhh I don't get them often enough but my friend Amber is a massage therapist and is basically the love of my life. Her elbows + my butt = very good friends. The kind of friends that have this really perverse sadistic kind of bond.
N... New Years Eve? Is my mother's birthday! So we usually celebrate that instead. Plus I'm a complete old lady and can't handle being up past 10pm.
O... Offspring? Not yet. Hear that, Boyus Angfriend? YET. I'm gonna need to have a bajillion babies so I can use up all the names I want... Meg, Clover, Ruby, Jill, Mizuno, Nutella, Broccolini, Stilton....
P... Potatoes? When I was 8 I became a vegetarian (and was up until last year-ish). Unfortunately, I did not like vegetables. Except potatoes. So, for several years, I lived on potatoes, bread, and butter. My family used to joke that I would one day marry a man called Chippy McSpud. Now that I think back on it, it really wasn't a particularly good joke. Huh.
Q... Questionable habits? Peeing with the bathroom door open, shaving my legs in front of the TV, using Facebook to stalk everybody I come across in life (both personally and professionally), licking my plate to help begin the cleaning process...
R... Races? I make up stupid races and competitions in my day-to-day life. The man at the gym didn't realise we were having a crosstrainer race today, but I totally won. The lady at Woolworths didn't know I was racing her through the produce section, but I also won that. As far as 'real' races go, I've only been in one - The Canberra Marathon last year. This year, I'm hoping to do more, shorter races, just for fun. The Canberra Half Marathon in April, Mothers Day fun run, City2Surf.... etc etc...
S... Showering? I do not do it often enough. I'm sorry, friends, co-workers, and mostly Angus, who has to share a bed with me and is often heard to sleepily mumble "mmmm... you smell like............exercise."
T... Trampolines? They own my soul. I had the best nannying job a few years ago where I basically just went to these people's house and played on their trampoline for like 4 hours a day while the kids baked me cakes. Sweetest deal ever.
U... University? Hey! I went to one of those!!! I attended the Australian National University from 2006-2009 and completed a Bachelor of Arts in English and Art History. I never really had a particular career objective in mind, but definitely appreciated how great my degree has made me at crosswords.
V... Vitamins? I take a women's multivitamin every day, as well as a glucosamine tablet. The former because I basically live on ice cream and cereal and worry that I may not be meeting my nutritional needs; the latter because I spend so much time pounding roads/paths/treadmills that I live in constant fear that my knees will one day crumble into dust.
W... Weddings? My friends are all getting married and I love the excuse to get all dressed up and go to an awesome party! I'm bridesmaid for my best friend Jenny in 2 weeks and I cannot WAAAAAAIT. As the bridesmaids enter the reception, the Imperial March from Star Wars will be playing.. baaaaaaaaaahahahaha. My own wedding is definitely some way off but rest assured, it will be ahhh-mazing. Backyard barbeque + pig-on-a-spit + bonfire for toasting marshmallows + a giant pinata full of all my favourite junk food + a kickass soundtrack + all my fave people + a fun, swishy, good-to-dance-in dress + toffee apple favours for guests + hopefully someone I love very much!
X... X-rays? Other than dental ones, I've only had them done once, when I was 5 and fractured my arm. I burst into tears and the nurses thought I was scared of the X-ray machine and kept reassuring me that it was fine, it wouldn't hurt, etc etc... In reality I was just upset and embarrassed that I had to take off my clothes and stand in my underwear. Huh. Weird kid.
Y... Yoga? I do it once a week with my beloved YogaGlenn who KICKS MY ASS and leaves me aching for days. Hence why I only do it once a week. It is definitely not relaxation yoga/something you do unless you are hugely masochistic. Glenn knows exactly how my body works and therefore pushes it to its absolute extreme. He is a bad man/I love him with all my heart.
Z... Zodiac? Virgo. Critical, perfectionist, lil bit OCD. Uhhhh yeah shut up. Excuse me while I go alphabetise the condiments in my pantry.

domestic troubles.

2011-02-19T13:33:00.002+11:00

I have a stupid habit of getting into relationships with inanimate objects. This entry discusses a few of these items.

I become alarmingly emotionally attached to stuff, and honestly begin to feel like we have an interactive, two-sided, mutually-beneficial relationship.

It generally starts with them somehow doing something for me: the item improves my life in some way, and I feel that this was a personal gesture of goodwill on the part of said item.

Example: Peanut butter tastes delicious. Peanut butter is filling and satisfying. On toast, it is my pre-and-post-workout fuel of choice. It is a nutritional BOMB (in a good way. Some would beg to differ, I'm sure). Peanut butter makes me really happy.
In my head: Peanut butter is delicious, filling, satisfying and nutritious for my benefit and mine alone. It has committed itself to making me happy. To repay it for this kindness, I must always treat it with respect (bordering on reverence). This will allow our harmonious relationship to continue into the future.
Problem arises: Something negative PB-related happens (I stain my new shirt with a baby-shit-looking smear of peanut butter; I scoff my toast too fast and end up with a piece of peanut lodged in my sinus/nasal cavity all day; I get indigestion from consuming too many spoonfuls of PB straight up at 2am...). Due to my 'special relationship' with the peanut butter, I find it hard to believe that this stuff 'just happens'. I take it personally. I feel vulnerable and betrayed. I don't know how to deal with it at all.

I understand that this is illogical and stupid. But it bothers me. It's as though the few things I can absolutely, 100%, ALWAYS depend on have let me down. I'm sure there is great potential for some kind of psychoanalysis here... probably about a deep-seated fear that my mother will abandon me or that my father will reject my sexual advances or something.

So, this leads me to the latest BETRAYAL BY AN INANIMATE OBJECT...

We are so happyyyyyyy togetherrrrrrr (I apologise for the fact that this photo is bordering on inappropriate. I never wear more than the absolute minimum of pants when I am home)

One of my other favourite things is the foam roller Boyus Angfriend gave me after my marathon last year. It is a CHAMP. It massages my tight, aching muscles deeper and more effectively than I can by hand. It also allows me endless opportunities to roll around on the floor like a fool.

This is my 'hurts so gooooood' face. For the record, contrary to popular belief, it is NOT the same as my sex face. Thank you.

So, last night, I was destroying some nasty little niggly crackles in my neck when I got a chunk of my hair (at that painful, sensitive point, right at the nape of your neck) wedged under the roller. The more I tried to roll off it, the tighter it got wound underneath. Until RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP. Large hunk o hair, complete with roots and some nice little specks of blood, came tearing out of my scalp. No pictures of this, sorry.

I sat on the floor and cried. Not so much out of pain, but out of hurt feelings.

As I sat there blubbering, my head was reeling with the following thoughts: I love my foam roller! Why would it do this to me!? I was using it for its intended purpose. I was giving it a reason for being! I was doing something good for my body! I was being productive! It has never let me down before! It has always been so NICE to me! Why would this happen?! What did I do?! Do I have a right to be angry? Is this my fault?!??!

I felt bitter and sad. I put the roller in the corner of my living room and refused to acknowledge it. I didn't finish my stretching/rolling session. I was too angry and hurt. I went to bed in a horrible mood and couldn't sleep properly because my pillow rubbed the raw, naked bit of my bloody scalp.

I got up this morning and saw it sitting there. I think I sense remorse, but it's too early to completely forgive and forget.

I am not without hope. I know myself well enough to know that I am a big mushy softie. I will eventually give in, and our friendship will be restored. Trust will be rebuilt. New, better memories will be made.

The reason I have such faith in this? Because lordy, lordy me, it is 1:27pm the day after the peanut-in-the-sinus incident, and I am about to make a ginormous batch of peanut butter French toast. The dream lives!

Happy Saturday!