Scattered...

Isn't it amazing what you stumble across when you type "___________" into the Google Image search engine?

In this particular instance I was looking for images of Punky Brewster*. That funky little 80's icon who inspired in me a love of pigtails, mis-matched clothes and pink converse high tops.

I'm not really sure why I was looking for pictures of PB... boredom? fit of nostalgia? who knows.

These guys popped up on a colouring book website dedicated to cheesy 80's kid's stuff. Yeah, a colouring book website. Who thinks up that shit?

Those of you who are familiar with my blogging will remember a previous reference to Sesame Street (Bert in particular). Those of you who aren't, can either: (a) trust me**; (b) scroll through my archives; or (c) click here. See? I made it easy for you.

Anyway.

That picture of Bert & Ernie is worrying on so many levels. Makes me think maybe my ma was right not to let me watch SS. Bert looks worried. And like he's eaten something bad. And what exactly are the things Ernie is referring to? What does he want to grow?

Input encouraged on this one.

Speaking of growing things, I've just been outside watering my veggie patch. You heard me... my veggie patch. I'm growing veggies. Flatmate B has got me hooked on this gardening thing. Well, sort of. She does most of the grunt work and I flit about with the watering can and secataurs every couple of days pretending to look like I know what I'm doing. And every couple of weeks we go to Bunnings and I get excited picking out all the things I want her to plant. Like pretty flowers. And veggies.

We're growing leeks, cucumbers, beans, zucchini, carrots and beetroot. I hate beetroot, but Flatmate A adores the stuff so its for her. I'm not too keen on leeks either but that's mainly because I never really know quite how to cook them. I must drop Jamie O an email about that - see what he can come up with for me***.

I got my stitches out today. Sorry... I'm leaping from topic to topic with reckless abandon. I'm a bit scattered today. You should have guessed that from the title. Anyway, try and keep up.

Now that the stiches are out there's a kick-ass scar. That wasn't supposed to happen. Not two days before I get new headshots done. Oh well, there's always photoshop. I'll be rubbing in the cocoa butter every five minutes for the next 48 hours though. And I'm still not allowed to soak in a bath in case the wound splits open. Grrrrr. Still, at least the stiches are out and the autopsy (sorry, biopsy) was all clear. I should stop bitching about it.

The guy on the radio is bitching about the price of petrol going up, up, up... here's an idea fella... how about not driving? How about getting off your ass and walking? I love driving as much as the next person but the best thing I ever did was get rid of my car earlier this year. I don't need one day-to-day. And on the days I do need one I have a lovely friend (as well as my lovely Flatmate A) who will lend me theirs.

John Travolta is using his jet to help the people in New Orleans. Bless his cotton socks. He's a much better advertisement for Scientology than that freak Tom Cruise.

And Sean Penn got his boat out to help rescue people (but forgot to put the plug in so it started taking on water). Again, bless. Good on them for getting out there.

Incidentally, where's Tom Cruise when all this is going on? Huh? Oh yeah, bouncing on a sofa somewhere.

Anyway, I think I've rambled enough. That's what comes of being alone all day. Flatmate B is home and she's got the guitar out. Think I'll go and strike some chords on the keyboard.

Seeyabye...

.

.

.

.

.

* how could you not love her?

** never a wise choice

*** I don't know Jamie Oliver, but I'm sure I can email him via his website. And I'm sure he'll email back. Its not like he's got anything better to do than create new recipes for me.