Dress ups!!

So I think I have found a new hobby.  It's pretty obvious and I guess you could say it has been a long time coming. I have decided my new hobby will be creating Cosplay outfits! WEEEEEEE!!! I have always loved dressing up and, since I have been able to sew since the age of five (not well at 5, but hey, it totally counts) costuming is such an obvious choice for a hobby. Plus I am a GIANT nerd.

For your viewing pleasure I have included some of my costumes so far...

 For a friends 19th Birthday party.  Excuse the horrible hair, this was straight after a game of paintball in the rain...

For my friend's 30th Birthday... It was pirate themed!!

For my friend's little sisters birthday party.  Her birthday is a couple of weeks before Halloween.

 For the 2009 Brisbane Zombie walk.  Taken before we bloodied ourselves up.

For the 2010 Brisbane Zombie walk.

Me as the character for our zombie movie - End Game.

For a friend's dress up birthday party, just this weekend!!

From humble beginings to awesome outfits.  I feel pretty happy with my last one.  It took me two days to make the hand attachments and to source all of the stuff to make the whole outfit.  Good effort, if you ask me!  Hambo points to those who know who I am dressing up as in each photo! Except the pirate one. I was just your generic pirate wench :)

Never trust a Poodle...

I had never really thought of Poodles as much of a dog growing up.  I was raised with German shepherds as an ideal example of a real dog.  They ate plants out of the garden, roots and all, that probably should have killed them.  They terrified the absolute crap out of the paper boys in our area and no cat ever set foot in our yard... at least none that we saw.  We were taught to think that these were real dogs and any breed that couldn't match their awesomeness in these areas was obviously a lessor breed.  So when I moved out from living with my Mum and Step-Dad to live with my Dad and Step-Mum I had a large adjustment to make.  Not only did they own a cat, but they also owned a poodle.

When I was a kid our German Shepherds were cheeky buggers.  Conan, the younger; bigger; and; sookier one, would always get into trouble from mum.  She always had to be the bad guy.  She didn't like it, but someone had to keep a giant German shepherd pup in line.  Conan was smart. One day mum came home from work to find shredded piles of clothes strewn all over the yard. Her clothes. Only hers.  He was a smart bastard.  To me, I thought this was a sign of intelligence from the breed, rather than the species in general.  How wrong I was.

Cody, the poodle, turned out to be pretty cute and kind of crazy.  I grew to love him and we became friends, I guess you could say.  The only problem was he was kind of obsessive and very neurotic.  In the back of my mind I guess I rationalized it by thinking poodles weren't that clever, they were less intelligent than awesome breeds like German shepherds. It was more a case of being ignorant on my part than of him failing to show signs of intelligence.

This all came to a head one fateful day.  He was obsessed with a lizard hiding underneath one of the logs in the backyard.  And by obsessed I mean there for probably more than a couple of hours, whingeing, scratching and doing little cute puppy circles.  Not only was I concerned for the lizard's safety, but I was getting fed up with hearing the constant scratching and whining noises from the backyard.  I'd had enough.

I marched down to the backyard and yelled out his name. Nothing. 'CODY!!!!!' I screamed at him, 'FOR GOD'S SAKE, LEAVE THE FREAKING LIZARD ALOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!!!!'. Still nothing.  It was like his whole being existed just to paw and scratch and whine at that damn lizard.  Something inside me snapped.  Like, went completely loco.  I did a kind of angry dance and then I smacked him.  Right on the bum.  It wasn't hard, more like a firm tap, but he had been so absorbed in that damn lizard that he forgot the world existed.  To put it short, he almost pooped himself.

He twisted around and looked at me like I had given him a right flogging.  At this stage I was still yelling, though who knows what I was even saying.  He scuttled off and I just stood there, hulking out for a couple of minutes.  He didn't bug the lizard again, he must have been traumatised, so I got on with my day.

The next day at school I was thinking about how I had treated him.  I began to feel guilty.  I thought to myself, 'He is just a poor stupid poodle, he doesn't understand.  What the hell is wrong with me?' I felt terrible.  I got home that afternoon and found Cody curled up on the couch.  When he heard me he poked his little head up.  I could see fear in his eyes.  I was a monster.  I sat down next to him and began my apology.  I explained to him that I hadn't meant to get so mad and that I shouldn't have smacked him, no matter how soft it was.  I promised him that it would never happen again and that I really wanted to be friends again.  And yes, I really did say all this out loud.

At the end of it Cody seemed a little more relaxed but I knew there was a long way to go.  As I got up from the couch and began to walk to my room I turned to him and smiled, I actually told him I loved him.  He looked nervously at me, as if he expected me to hulk out.  Then I walked through my bedroom door.

Piss EVERYWHERE.  On my bed.  On my rug. On my school books.  On my sketch books.  That little bastard. I walked out of my bedroom and looked at straight into his cold dead eyes.  It was war...

Cody:1, Hambo: Nil.


NEVER underestimate a poodle.

Trolley Watching

I have heard of some people who go to shopping centres just to watch the people, see the weirdos and creepers.  I don't really understand the attraction to be honest.  Why people watch when you can trolley watch.  The amount of information you can learn about people from what they put in their trolley is AMAZING. 

For instance: Two young women, maybe late teens - early twenties, with a trolley full of junk.  Instant pizzas, gourmet cheese, pre-made salads and fancy face care accessories. ANALYSIS =  probably just moved out of home or their parents are away overseas.  They only buy the best brands and pre-made food because they either have no idea how to live out of home or their shop is being funded by their parents.

Next example: An old man, pushing a smaller trolley.  Contents are a single apple, two potatoes, half a dozen tins of fish and a loaf of bread.  ANALYSIS = Single retired pensioner.  Probably learning to buy for one after losing his partner.  Buys minimally because the old age pension SUCKS.

See what I mean? Even if it isn't true, trolley watching is an imaginations dream.  I was shopping today and I couldn't help but peek into people's trolleys, wondering what their story is.  I try to be impartial, trying not to judge people by the contents of their trolley.  I admit, I have thought disapprovingly of parents with kids in tow and a trolley full of sugar.  I guess they will have to put up with the kids on a sugar high, though. You reap what you sow.

I learnt my trolley watching lesson the hard way once.  I had a day off, completely to myself.  This was a rare occasion since I was doing full time study and working almost every spare minute I had.  I had planned an awesome day.  I was going to bake and cook a stew for dinner.  While they were cooking I planned to watch a zombie movie and dye my hair.  A day of pure indulgence.  The only problem was I had to nick down to the shops to pick up a few things: some ingredients for my stew, some cream to stop the hair dye from making my face purple and some 'ladies things' since my well timed time of the month coincided with my day off.

I was cruising around the grocery store and had everything within 10 minutes flat and, since I had less than 12 items I got to use the express lane.  It was then that I noticed the contents of my basket.  I stared down in horror at two very large carrots, a tub of Vaseline and a box each of tampons and pads.  What. The. Hell.  I tried to cover the items on the conveyor belt with a packet of pasta. It kept sliding off to reveal my perverted shopping items. I couldn't even look at the girl serving me. I mumbled something about having a busy day or something. I can't even remember.  I shuffled my way through the check-out, face bright red, never looking back.

I think I will give those parents with the sugar loaded trolleys some slack.

Another one of THOSE days

Today was a day I can't wait to forget.  It started off pretty well, come to think of it that was probably the start... get my hopes up before smashing the crap out of my awesome day.  I should have seen the warning signs I guess, but they were masked by my optimism and general appearance of a good day ahead of me.  I just had about 10 hours sleep and woke up after hitting the snooze button a couple of times at a very respectable time of 07.30 am.  Sign number one: waking up with a headache after tossing and turning all night.  I put it down to too much sleep and got on with my morning.  I got dressed in adult clothes (and all by myself too!) and got ready to go out.

I was going to the movies with my mum this morning, I hadn't seen her in a few months despite living in the same city, so it was nice to catch up.  We decided to meet at a local shopping centre and grab a coffee then watch a movie at the cinema.  Sign number two: getting half way to the shopping centre and realising I forgot my phone. Normally I wouldn't care and just keep going on my merry way, but this day... this day we didn't pick somewhere to meet, we decided to text each other when we got there.  All the way home to get the damn phone.

On the way back to the shopping centre I get a text message. Sign number three: a message from my boss asking me to start work half an hour earlier.  I call her and tell her that I may or may not be able to but I would get there when I can.  Boss is grateful and I keep driving to the shopping centre.  I meet my my mum. We go and eat awesome sushi for lunch.  We make it to the movie a little late, but it was great fun and I laughed so much.  The movie was Arthur, and I have to admit I didn't expect to like it so much.  This is about where I am having a great day and probably think to myself that nothing could destroy it for me.  BIG MISTAKE.

I rush home so I can get ready in time to be at work early.  I don't know why I cared so much, maybe I was grateful for the extra shifts my boss had given me and wanted to show her I was thankful for them.  STUPID GIRL.  Anyway, I am getting ready and I take the time and effort to iron my uniform.  In the last three years I think I have ironed my uniform less times than there are fingers on my right hand.  I was obviously in a good mood and trying to impress.

So I get all my stuff together and start walking to work. It is a short walk, only about 10 minutes or so, nothing too tiring.  As I start out I notice an overabundance of rain clouds.  Again I dare to think.  I think 'Gee, it looks like it is going to rain. I hope it waits until I get to work'. I swear the second I finished that sentence it started pissing down rain.  I use that phrase because as a child I was told that when it rains that is God going to the toilet (don't ask me why people say these ridiculous things to children).  Never before has that imagery been so apt.  I could imagine him pissing down on my wonderful day, laughing and aiming right down on my head.

It gets better. Because I am such a child and refuse to grow up, the only umbrella I own is pink with a piggy face and ears on it.  It is about big enough for a 5 year old to be protected from a light sun shower.  All it did for me was stop my head from getting wet.  Even the end of my pony tail was drenched. The worst part - well one of the worst parts - was I had gone too far from shelter to turn back, I had to keep going. I was taking baby running steps because if I walked too fast more of me got wet.  My pants were soaked from the knee down.  My shoes were filling with water.  The stupidest part was when I got to shelter, about 20 metres from my work, I decided to persevere. What an idiot.

By the time I got to work I was saturated.  My pig umbrella had started dripping and raining from the inside.  I think it was probably a display only umbrella.  My shoes were literally filled with water.  I was wet, cold and miserable.  The ironic thing was that I arrived just in time to start half an hour early for my shift.  It took half an hour for me to call my boyfriend and get him to bring me spare clothes and shoes so I could actually work.  If I had just bummed about at home for another half an hour I could have avoided this whole thing.  That was the first and only time it rained all day.Next time, I am going to be lazy and play games instead of going to work early.  A valuable lesson learned.

Day of the Rapture

I woke up this morning feeling slightly off.  I was coughing pathetically and aching all over.  It was 4 am and I was wondering what I had done to deserve being woken up at this time on a Sunday morning.  Then I realised I was going to work on a Sunday, so the Rapture was probably getting in early. Since the Rapture was set for 6pm, I figured it was probably according to American time and therefore I would be safe to sin for a few more hours yet.

After staring into my coffee for 20 minutes I finally got ready for work.  It was then that I realised it was raining.  Sign of the coming Rapture #2.  It was cold and wet and I bet God knows that I already felt like crap and was making me miserable on purpose.  And being sick it was the perfect miserable combination.  Not to mention there was a snail sleeping perfectly in the middle of my front door, right at eye height too. I eyed it suspiciously as I left.  I have lived at this place for 3 years and never once seen a snail... A sign of the coming Rapture?

On my way to work my MP3 player died and in the silence I pondered the situation I was in.  In the event of the coming Rapture, on a scale of 1 to 10, how screwed am I? Just the day before I had used very reliable flow charts to check whether I should prepare the choirs of Angels or the fire retardant blankets.  I decided that they probably weren't all that accurate.

Work was ok, but not great.  We had to go back to a ward that we DROVE DOWN THE STREET TO (yes, it is that far away) and that was a pain, but I think that sign of the coming Rapture was neutralised by the fact that we bought ham and cheese pies for breakfast.

Now, I am pretty sure that it is past Rapture o'clock and nothing catastrophic has really happened yet.  In fact, I have surfed the Internet at work all morning, had pie for breakfast and slept a little, too.  If this is the Rapture then, seriously God, you are going to have to try harder.  Pies are no punishment for the wicked.

Spam

On the forum where I spend a lot of my time, I am a moderator.  This sounds exciting. I look important. People look up to me.

Whatever. All I live for at the moment is SPAM.  I have become a spam crusader.  Defending the pages of the forum from the infiltration of nonsensical posts regarding Canadian Online Pharmacies.

'Want to get high on Tramadol?' ACCESS DENIED.

'Want free sexy times?' NICE TRY SPAM BOT.

I imagine myself wielding a Samurai sword, hacking the spammy posts into nothing.  I am the shining knight defending the innocent readers from unspeakable horrors from the Canadian Drug Smugglers.

The saddest part is when I check my blog, I am more eager to check for spam than anything else. I think I have issues.

Please help me by posting your fake spam below.

Happy Easter

Happy Easter everyone!

I have always loved Easter.  I mean, it is the perfect holiday for kids really.  Christmas only works because of the sheer amount of food and presents, because lets face it - Santa is kind of creepy.  My sister never liked Santa in the shopping centres (although it never stopped her from accepting his presents!).  BUT EASTER.  Chocolate plus a small fluffy mammal.  PERFECT.  And this year we get 5 days off in a row.  Last Christmas it was only 3.  And it was stinking hot, as it is in Australia.

When I was a kid it was easy to see how cool you were at Easter. It was the volume of chocolate the Easter Bunny brought you.  Going on this gem of wisdom I bought as many Easter eggs this year as my budget would allow.  Why buy 20 Cadbury eggs when I can get 30 no name Australian made ones for the same price!  I bought two packets.  I had SOOOO MANY EASTER EGGS. I was awesome.  Until I ate the chocolate eggs I had bought.  It was like a chocolate chicken and a Japanese curry had an illegitimate love child.  It may have taken me 24 years, but I have finally learnt the lesson of putting quality above quantity.

Easter egg, anyone?