Does Zooey Deschanel fantasise about herself when she can’t sleep?

500full-zooey-deschanelIt’s 3.43am and contrary to my earlier predictions this evening, I’m apparently still wide awake.  I’ve tried all the obvious remedies – warm milk, reading, valium and sweet, sweet dreams of my eternal girl crush Zooey… all to no effect.

This is not a new phenomenon to me.  Usually it succeeds a hatred for my job, distress about a best friend who didn’t live up to promises made, or panic about an ever increasing credit card bill.  This time, I can’t really lay claim to major concerns on any of those fronts.  Life is good (credit card debt notwitstanding).  Work is, you know, ok.  An previously undeveloped friendship has magically worked its way into real connection and I no longer feel the gaping hole of my formerly disappearing BFF.  Husband is funny, charming and keeping the home fires burning (*snigger *).   I’m creatively inspired and excited for what seems to be a promising venture.

Perhaps therein lies the clanger.  Today I inadvertantly did the most mortifyingly embarrassing thing through sheer stupidity.  The sun was out and mother had lent me her convertible for a few days.  What is a girl to do?  Get in the damn thing and drive of course!  I wandered here and there, lapping up the luxury of a warm winters day on my seasonably pale visage (all hail tinted moisturiser!).  As someone who works from home the sun is a foreigner to me.  I’m daily cloistered in a cool garret with a candle melting fat drips of  wax as I toil and a thin worsted blanket loosely covering my shoulders to keep the cold from bruising my bones.  Ok I exaggerate.  It’s a lovely desk with a pretty view of a vast, hulking, deciduous green tree and central heating. And I wear my PJs and slippers to work.  Whatever.  The point is, to spend an hour or two drenching myself in the sun is unusual.  

Notice how long I’ve avoided getting to the actual point?   Yeah well.  I managed to completely and utterly lose track of myself and forgot a 3pm appointment which was really important to me.  To do with aforementioned future creative endeavours.  Till I got a politely innocuous sms at 3.30 reminding me where I was supposed to be.  At that point, I would like to have flayed the golden warmth from my face and arms and return to my cold garret in shame.  I of course was in Manly  so still obscenely far from where I should have been – in Rose Bay.  Mortification complete.  Did I mention I had already postponed this meeting from the previous day so I could frivolously see some ridiculous baby elephant?  Which didn’t eventuate after much waiting around.

So here I sit, vainly (god, please let me be wrong) hoping that this last ditch effort to expunge my embarrassment from my brain by sharing with others in writing will, at last, help me get to sleep.  Writing as therapy and all that.

4.04am.

submit to reddit

Delicious Bookmark this on Delicious

Free Air Guitar

Sure… it’s cheesy but it made me smile and sometimes that’s exactly watcha need….

mailgooglecom

What’s Stranger Than a Midget

Beer Guard DogWalking to work has been an interesting experience.   Ah, Sydney… the sights, the smells… the excitement… and the weird things you see.

Monday

Kent St.  A beer truck is being unloaded by a couple of big,  sweaty blokes.  Sitting on top of the 6-foot-high stack of beer cartons is a guard dog.  A teeny, little 1-year-old miniature poodle.  What the hell is that little tyke gonna protect them from?  Midgets?

Cute?  Indubitably.  Tough & scary?  No.

Arf.

Tuesday

Speaking of midgets, saw one.  Ok that’s pretty unusual in itself sure… but this one was driving a car down Sussex street.   Stretchin’ his little legs out and pointing his little tippie-toes as far as he possibly can every time he has to brake… or accelerate.  Bless!

Wednesday

Still speaking of midgets… what could be stranger than a midget I hear you ask?  Well… picture a small chinese woman.  And by chinese, I don’t mean ‘asian’ – I can tell the bloody difference you know – I mean FROM CHINA.

So, small chinese woman.  Imagine her, really, right now, close your eyes if you really need to, just start imagining ok.   Black hair, indeterminate age, barely 5 feet tall and just generally all-round small.  So got a picture in your head?    Good.

Now, put DD cup boobs on that sucker.  I kid you not.  How does she stay vertical?  Walking down Kent Street with nary a care in the world.  Except her gigantic DD boobs of course.

Thursday

Sighted a woman power-walking her way down George St.  Clearly she neglected to properly check the mirror as she walked out the door because she’s wearing her shirt inside out.  Bless her little oblivious socks.  It’s a long way from one end of George St to another and there are MANY MANY people along the way.  Hopefully one of them will be kind enough to actually let her know rather than point and laugh as I’m doing.

Crap.  Just realised.  The woman in question is me.

And no.  Noone let me know.  Realised after I got to work and looked in the mirror in the bathrooms.

People are scum*!

*Burgess, A. K., 2008, London.

Falling Over is Always Funny

hahaSome things are so funny they make snot come out your nose.  Actually, that’s not accurate.  Somethings are so funny TO ME that they make snot come out of MY nose.  Yet other people are either indifferent or, more commonly, mortally offended.  I do understand, really I do.

I get that some people feel sympathy when, say, a person who is carrying a heavy box in the middle of an overcrowded (overcrowded in the way it only gets 4 days before xmas) JB HiFi store, happens to knock over an entire display case of DVDs, then stumble and fall face first into the ensuing mess.  I do not.  Feel sympathy that is.  For me, it’s a snot fest.

Frankly, I’m just glad it’s not me making a complete blithering idiot of myself – because, god knows, it so easily could be me.  Those who rush to help are those picture perfect types with nary a hair out of place… they would never be so graceless.  I however would.. very easily.  And so, I must laugh.

Recently, our very beloved family dog went completely blind.  It’s terrible, horrible.  I cried… well, to be entirely tasteless, I cried my eyes out… other, less easily amused souls, just cried dreadfully.   But I digress, let me tell you how we realised that he’d gone blind.

Mum & Dad took him for a walk in the park and noticed that he was very tentative – usually he’s like a glo-stick-waving-pill-poppinig-20-year-old – a little manic but very entertaining to watch.  Then he bumped into a couple of trees and they started to get a bit concerned. So mum called him; he turned and ran straight towards her voice.  As opposed to say, following the path.  Unfortunately there was a little creek in between them – he missed the bridge and ran straight off the edge into the creek.

I will reiterate – it’s nothing to laugh about… it’s a devestating thing to happen to a young dog… but even as I’m writing it, I get the giggles.  My mother would be furious… literally psychotically furious with me.   I just can’t help myself, I keep picturing him running straight off the edge  – coyote style (of Roadrunner fame) – suspended in mid-air…until that moment when he looks down and realises he’s screwed up. Meep meep!!!!

I suppose I owe a lot to Schadenfreude, me old mate.  He keeps me in stitches.

Svengali-Like

I really love that term. Svengali-like.  And I don’t mean that in like, a valley-girl like, way, like.  I mean “like a svengali”.

According to our friends at dictionary.com a svengali is “a person who completely dominates another, usually with selfish or sinister motives”.

WHAT? I’ve been using this word for quite some time and when I used it, that’s NOT what I meant… In my blatant stupidity I assumed it meant someone who was a bit bohemian. I’m a reader ok. I never looked it up, I just gleaned the meaning from the context in which it was used. Clearly I gleaned from a complete fuckass who has ruined my grammatic integrity for ever.

Then I started to wonder, what the other words have I appropriated incorrectly?

supercilious: haughtily disdainful or contemptuous, as a person or a facial expression
So not ‘extraneous or unnecessary” as I had presumed then…

lionize: To treat or regard as an object of great interest or importance
ok… I thought it meant the complete opposite… similar to demonise.

pugnacious: Inclined to fight; combative; quarrelsome
not someone who really sticks at things then? Bugger!

Bloody hell!  And this is what I can think of, off the top of my head… imagine how many more there are?  I’m officially horrified by the level of my ignorance.

Accidental Finger Tattoos are Fun

Why is it that someone who is ostensibly quite coordinated and relatively intelligent can do such stoopid things?

Oh ho ho… I accidentally tattooed my finger… he he he… what an amusing anecdote…. But I really, accidentally tattooed my fucking finger. On the first knuckle of the pointer on my right hand I now have a ½ centimeter black line. And there’s nothing clever, artistic or interesting about it.

It’s no:

    or

…it’s just a plain crappy black line that peters out a little at one end.

I had one of those artline felt tip pens, the ones with the little metal barrel at the nib. And yes, exactly what you are thinking right now is what happened. I shoved that metal barrel into my finger, creating a puncture-like hole. Not intentionally, obviously. I was shoving the lid back on a little too enthusiastically and whammo! A puncture. In my skin. Oh, a puncture and a strange black line running down my finger. Interesting. Not to worry, it will go away.

Well guess what, no it fucking hasn’t. Hole? Gone. Black line, not. Gone.

I have officially tattooed myself.