Keep on Quizzing

I'm addicted to quizzes.

The people who actually create these things must be pretty warped. For instance...

Your Outrageous Name is:

Betty Humpter

Outrageous Name Generator

I love that my outrageous name is Betty Humpter. Makes me sound like a sex fiend. But I love the little purple creature (who I assume is meant to be symbolic of my outrageous name) more.


Then there's this little gem:

Your French Name is:

Hortense St. Martin

What's Your French Name?

Hortense. Sounds like a horse. Brings to mind images of Camilla Parker-Bowles (or is she now Camilla Windsor?) getting ready for a bit of a giddy up at the country estate in Burberry headscarf and beige jodhpurs. Couldn't it have been something a bit sexier? I don't like it.


This one made me laugh:

Your Daddy Is Patrick Stewart

What You Call Him: Daddy-o Why You Love Him: He takes you to Disneyland

Who's Your Daddy?

Yeah Daddy-o. You're so cool. Can we, like, go to Disneyland every weekend and use your star power to not have to queue up for Space Mountain? Can we? You can, like, pretend that you're the captain of our spaceship. Awesome.


The picture that accompanied this next one was a bit dodgy:

You're an Expert Kisser

You're a kissing pro, but it's all about quality and not quantity You've perfected your kissing technique and can knock anyone's socks off And you're adaptable, giving each partner what they crave When it comes down to it, your kisses are truly unforgettable

What Kind of Kisser Are You?

I'm very flattered el-Quiz-Master that you think I'm an expert kisser, however if that picture is the standard for achieving expert status then I would be asking you to give me a higher status. Those two look like a pair of teenagers behind the bike shed at lunchtime trying not to get their braces caught together.

This one is self-explanatory:

Your Birthdate: June 20

You are a virtual roller coaster of emotions, and most people enjoy the ride. Your mood tends to set the tone of the room, and when you're happy, this is a good thing. When you get in a dark mood, watch out - it's very hard to get you out of it. It's sometimes hard for you to cheer up, and your gloom can be contagious. Your strength: Your warm heart Your weakness: Trouble controlling your emotions Your power color: Black Your power symbol: Musical note Your power month: February

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

On the whole, fairly accurate. Especially the bit about my mood. When I'm in a stinker watch out - I'll bring you and the entire neighbourhood down with me. Keep your distance.

Good thing I like rollercoasters.

Hey Daddy-o can we go on the Mad Hatter's Teacups now? Can we? Can we? Pleeeeeeaaaasssseeee? You can spin. Then let's go eat hot dogs and cotton candy. And get our photo taken with Mickey.

Man who catch fly with chopstick accomplish anything

Farewell Mr Miyagi. Arnold's just won't be the same.

Waxing off...


x

It Could Be Magic...

Breaking news...

So excited by this.

I need to find out who to petition to make sure they tour here.

Or I need to win the lottery so I can go and see them there.

Even without Robbie it will still be a giggle.

Meet'n'Greet

Ever have one of those nights which is supposed to be low key and turns out to be huge?

Of course you have.

Anyone that answered "no" to that question is lying.

Hideous night at work tonight. Hideous. One of the actors injured their knee during warm up and 15 mins before the show was due to start the stage manager tells me they're cancelling the show and taking her to hospital.

Love you to pieces Bonge. You are a beautiful person. Hope your knee gets better really soon.

But f**k me, some of those people who were coming to see your show tonight really sucked big time. You'd think we'd cut off their fingers. Or stolen their wallets and gone on a spending spree with their platinum Amex cards.

You are on stage every night re-creating a part of your life story. You were abandoned at the age of 8. You spent most of your childhood scavenging for food. I cannot even begin to imagine how awful your childhood was. I honestly do not know how you have the guts to get up on stage each night and re-live those experiences. I have so much respect for you.

These hideous people however, had no sympathy for your situation and decided to abuse the bejesus out of me and the RocKat because we had to cancel the show.

Not. Cool.

But we survived the abuse. And made it to the Dolphin to celebrate Damo's birthday.

Goodness me that pub has changed since my last visit.

Yuppies'r'Us.

And they close at midnight. So lame.

So then we went to the Gaslight. As you do.

I saw Tez. My lovely third husband from Queen Lere. Love Tez. Love him to bits. Love love love.

And I saw two ex-shags. One of whom I love to bits, one of whom is a wanker. If you know who I am and you know who they are, then you'll know which is which.

And chatted to some bloke named Norbert. Really. What were his parents thinking?

Then...

Then...

Then, I met Locket. Who, as it turns out, is an old Perth mate of the RocKat.

Sooooo exciting.

So. Bloody. Exciting.

Made my night.

KISS the Carpenters

Short post today. Have injured my right arm/shoulder (long story but it involves the TWOD) and the physio decided to strap my shoulder this morning. I feel like a footy player.

But I had to share something funny that happened whilst I was walking home (in huge amounts of pain I might add) along King Street.

I stopped off at Fish Records - next door to the Dendy. It was that $10 CD sign. Gets me every bloody time. Usually I take a peek, see either crap or stuff I already own (what's the difference I hear some of you ask) so my purse doesn't usually see the light of day. But not today.

Now as you know, because I've mentioned it before, I have what can really only be described as an eclectic taste in music. It spans all forms.

But not everyone can deal with my choices.

Which this morning were:

KISS - Gold (1974-1982)
Forty tracks from the original glam rock boys themselves. Two discs of rock'n'roll heaven, including Shandi - one of my top ten songs of all time.

The Carpenters - Greatest Hits
I actually bought this one a few years back but it got lost in one of my many house moves and I've missed it. Its a great one for late night drunken party sing-a-longs.


Pity the poor sales assistant this morning. He asked whether I was starting my Christmas shopping early. His face, when I blithely informed him that both of them were for my listening pleasure was classic.

I currently have them on shuffle on the stereo. Cold Gin followed by Rainy Days and Mondays followed by Sure Know Something followed by We've Only Just Begun... what a mix.

I'm going off for neurofen and a bit of a lie down.

Zimmerman

As we were watching Tuckshop-Lady-Arms Kate beat out Shut-That-F***ing-Cry-Baby-Up Emily in the Australian Idol Grand Final last night, Flatmate A decided to register her disgust, hatred, dislike of being referred to as Flatmate A in my blog.

Since she doesn't want me to use her real name either, I was left in a bit of a quandry.

Should I not mention her at all? Would be a shame, since she is a very funny person and has provided a wealth of inspiration for this blog (the recent Dewey Decimal post being one of the many pearlers she has come up with).

I asked her to provide a nom de plume which was to her liking.

Zimmerman was her first choice.

She's a big Bob Dylan fan. Actually, I would add '-atic' to that. As in fanatic. I was forced into an internet search the other night in her quest to find the perfect poster of the man as a youngster to frame and put up somewhere in our house. We spent hours trawling through site after site before she finally decided to purchase the first poster we had looked at.

Geez.

Personally, I'm not a fan of the man. Its that nasal voice. I just can't understand what he's saying. The lack of annunciation sh*ts me. Clear speech Bob. Its not that difficult. And it will get your message across much more effectively.

But I digress.

From this moment, I declare Flatmate A to be re-christened Zimmerman.

That ok Lisa?

Darn it...

Sometimes (like tonight), I do something that reminds me how just how lucky I really am to live the life I lead.

I've just spent the last 5 hours being paid to 'work' at the Pissarro exhibition opening at the Art Gallery of NSW, dressed up and re-creating scenes from some of his paintings.

Like this one:

And this one:

I got sewing both times. Me. The world's worst seamstress. Me, who got kicked out of home economics in the eighth grade, because I managed to sew the sewing machine needle right through my index finger (I was busy chatting to someone) and broke the machine trying to get the bugger out.

But you know, there was something quite soothing about darning stockings. I got quite creative with it too - turned my stockings into a ruffle. Macgyver in a frock with a needle.

In between each of those 45 minute sewing stints, I was dressed up as a peasant, giving out pink peonies and walking through a marketplace with loaves of bread, eating apples and imagining I was Belle from Beauty & The Beast.

And we got lots of breaks when we were fed... the same 'substantial canapes' that the well-to-do Art Gallery set were fed. The salmon and asparagus with hollandaise sauce was awesome.

Gosh it was fun.

I love playing dress-ups.

I love my life.

One Short of Dewey Decimal

Flatmate A just told me I was so obsessively organised that I was "one short of dewey decimal". Whatever that means.

I believe it had something to do with the fact that my CD collection is alphabetised.

You may mock me, but at least when I have a sudden urge to listen to The Lightning Seeds (as I just did) I can grab the CD in about ten seconds because:

1. I know exactly how many CDs I own from bands starting with L; and
2. Exactly where on the shelf they are placed.

I'm currently serenading my neighbours with the joy that is "Three Lions". They had the soccer blaring last night... its only right that they should now be subjected to one of the best songs ever written with football in mind. Even if it is written about the English team.

But let's face it, any song that mentions Gary Lineker has got to be a classic.

I love Gary Lineker.

Stop laughing Ems. You know I always had a thing for Gary and his ears. Not to mention his crisps.

Don't f*** with Mr Zero*

Today is my first day off in about two weeks and I haven't left the house or answered a phone call all day.

I'm enjoying the solitude.

I'm also enjoying the perverse satisfaction I get when I have a tidy room, freshly laundered clothes, clean sheets and all my paperwork neatly filed away.

The chance to catch up on little things like news is also a bonus.

I am deeply ashamed to say I slept through this though... I had all good intentions of heading into Martin Place this morning, but I was so exhausted (ironically, due to working a ten day stretch without any time off), I slept right through my alarm and woke up sometime around midday.

And I'm deeply disturbed by this report. Whoever it was should be ashamed of themselves. He's a good bloke who is showing signs of becoming a top player for my club. If I ever find out who you are you will know my anger. And believe me, you really don't want to get acquainted with that side of me. Its not pretty.

Get better soon Zac... I hope you don't miss the NZ trip because of this.

I'm going off to do another load of laundry.

x
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* Name the film, win a prize.
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It's a Demtel thing... (you know "but wait, there's more?", get it?)

Just what you were all waiting for. Twenty more things about moi - as tagged by Kranki

This time I'm gonna keep it light. Maybe even add a picture or two, so I can write less.

Oh and I'm going to start at 21, since I already did my first 20 a little bit ago.

21. I absolutely love Mötley Crüe. Deal with it. I don't care that its not PC to like them because they denegrate women. I love them because of their music. And because Tommy Lee is actually kinda hot in a wrong kind of way.
22. As a teenager, my style icons were Molly Ringwald and Caitlin from Degrassi Junior High.
23. It still bugs me that my brother named his two daughters the same names as my arch-nemesis at high school (Zoe) and her hideously evil older sister (Katie). Brutha's Zoe is 6 and Katie is 4. You think I would have gotten over it by now, but no. Its still irritating as all f**k.
24. Partly due to the reasons above, I call Zoe - Zoob and Katie - Buddha. I also call her Buddha cos she's a chunky little thing with a belly just screaming to be rubbed. I may end up paying for her therapy someday but I also have a feeling she's going to turn out to be a stand-up comedian so she'll get her revenge on me.
25. The first album I ever owned (not purchased) was this one:


26. The second album I ever owned was this one:

My record/CD collection doesn't get much better than that.
27. After watching this person in this show, I decided I wanted to learn to play the cello. Unfortunately a high proportion of girls at my school decided the same thing and since there weren't enough cellos to go around I spent five years trying to learn viola, flute, clarinet and oboe. I suck at all of them.
28. I cried last week watching The Biggest Loser when Pete got voted out and they showed his after video.
29. I wore braces on my teeth for a year when I was 9, then wore a retainer for a year when I was 10, then had braces put on again when I was 13 and had them removed shortly before my 17th birthday. Needless to say, my parents did not get one decent school photo of me during those times - I either scowled or skipped school on photo day.
30. When my sis got married she made me wear a purple taffeta frock with puffed sleeves and a V back, with matching purple court shoes and a purple floral headpiece. At my school formal later the same year I wore a black velvet mini dress, fishnet stockings and black Doc Martens.
31. I sleep naked. Even in winter.
32. I can recite whole passages from To Kill A Mockingbird. My favourite passage is Dill's introduction.
33. Best kid's book ever.
34. Best picture book ever.
34. I'm allergic to mushrooms.
35. Kranki is my six degrees of Jason Bateman person.
36. I've seen this person in concert twice - once at the Royal Albert Hall and once here in Sydney. The only friends who don't give me grief about it are Charlotte (who has also seen him in concert) and Debster (who used to be in musical theatre herself and since she once played Dinah in Starlight Express knows she has no call to be dissing another musical theatre performer).
37. I don't care if you give me grief about #36. I will continue to sing along to his CDs when I'm doing housework for as long as I feel like it. Its like #21. You just have to accept that about me. Or not.
38. I always read my horoscope. In fact, I usually read about four or five different ones each day and choose the one which suits me best.
39. I'm love Lush. I love this and this and this and this. And because my lovely Lulu has just started working there, I now love them at a 50% discount.
40. I'm a night owl. Even when I have to start work at 9am, like tomorrow today, I still can't get to sleep until past midnight.
But its way past that now, so I'm heading off to bed. And yes, I will be naked. Fantasise, throw up, make what you will of that.
Oh and I'd better tag some people. I promised Muffin that I'd tag her next time I was doing one of these things, so that's one. Anyone else who cares to do so may.
x

The Remembrance Day Incident

I've been a bit slack on the blog front of late... am working extra hours to cover for my boss who is off on comp leave because she has RSI, because we are forced to work in sub-standard conditions. Not sweatshop sub-standard, but pretty bad.

Anyway. I'm working a ridiculous amount of hours. Thankfully the powers-that-be have caved to my demands and are paying me for the extra hours, instead of enforcing their stupid time-in-lieu policy*, which is how they normally get people to work overtime.

But that's not important.

Reading this blog just now, reminded me of an incident which occurred yesterday.

Remembrance Day.

I was working, but due to a lack of staff (don't get me started - I can get sidetracked very easily on the topic of injustice in my workplace), I was working on my own. I had the radio on in the background and just before 11am they started broadcasting a Remembrance Day tribute which would finish at 11am in time for the one minute's silence.

As the tribute was drawing to a close, a customer came up to the counter. She looked to be about my mum's age, which I won't disclose, but let's just say she looked old enough to remember our country at war.

I greeted this woman, but before she could launch into her request, I politely pointed out that it was just coming up to the 11th hour of the 11th month of the 11th day, and would she mind waiting while I observed the one minute's silence?

I was very polite about it. It was only going to be for a minute. 60 seconds.

And she looked like a reasonable person who would be happy to observe a minute's silence in memory of those who fought for our country.

I was wrong.

As they were playing The Last Post on the radio, I was being subjected to an angry lecture on how busy this person was and how she didn't have time to waste while I observed a tradition which she considered outdated and meaningless.

I calmly explained to her that my grandfather fought in France in WW1. He came home with a load of schrapnel in his spine as payment for his troubles, which contributed to the health problems that finally took him from this world and left my dad an orphan at the age of 14.

I told her that I felt it important to at least remember his sacrifice for one short minute of each year.

Her reply "He's dead so what does it matter" really got under my skin, but instead of reaching over the counter to smack her head (which is what I really wanted to do), I processed her ticket exchange and sent her on her way.

However I couldn't help thowing a bitchy sweet "I hope your grandchildren remember you fondly when you're gone" at her as she walked away.

I think she flinched.

I observed my one minute silence at 11.08am. I hope that's ok Grandpa Bob.






* The problem with this policy is that you end up clocking up 400 hours of TIL and then you're not allowed to take it.

Separated at Birth?

Flatmate B brought this one to my attention last night. Its her theory, therefore she must get the blame credit.

Is this woman:

Secretly this man in drag?


Think about it. They're never on screen at the same time.

Oh and I've been tagged again. This time by Kranki. I promise not to get so deep this time. I'll try to make y'all laugh.

Word Verification is OFF

At least for the time being.

Firstly because it was driving me nuts (I shouldn't have to type in a random bunch of difficult-to-read letters in order to answer a comment on my own blog); and secondly because someone requested it.

But if the spammers return, I'm going to have to rethink the situation.

I have a new theory

This actually occurred to me some time ago*, but I just thought about it again tonight having been stuck in a queue in Woolies for 25 minutes**.

I don't know about you, but I'm constantly amazed at the likes of Britney, Heidi, Posh, Gwyneth, et al, who become pregnant, have big swelling bellies for nine months and yet suddenly two weeks after giving birth are photographed with completely flat stomachs (concave even), shown off in tiny tops.

My theory is that they've latched on to a new form of plastic surgery.

Caesar-lipo.

You have two doctors in the delivery room. The OB/Gyn delivers the baby by caesarian section and then the plastic surgeon steps in and liposuctions out all the excess fat, leaving you looking your former trim, taut and terrific self.

At this stage I think its mainly attracting celebs, but you never know. It may take off amongst the rest of the world. Like the Atkins diet or Scientology.

Nothing would surprise me anymore.







* I was sitting in the doctor's surgery waiting for my stiches to be taken out. She was running late so I must have read at least 10 NW/New Idea/Who/Woman's Day magazines.

** Of course when stuck in a queue at the supermarket there is nothing else to do except read trashy mags.

When I'm Five*

When I'm five
I will wash my face and hands all by myself
When I'm five
I will chew and spit tobacco like my grandfather Jones
Cos I'm only four and five is far away

When I'm five
I will read the magazines in mummy's drawer
When I'm five
I will walk behind the soldiers in the May Day parade
Cos I'm only four and grown-ups walk too fast

Yesterday was horrid day, 'cause Raymond kicked my shin
And mummy says if I am good, she'll let me go to school in August
Daddy shouted loud at mummy and I dropped my toast at breakfast
And I laughed when Bonzo licked my face, because it tickled

I wonder why my daddy cries and how I wish that I was nearly five

When I'm five
I will catch a butterfly and eat it and I won't be sick
When I'm five
I will jump in puddles, laugh in church and marry my mum
And I'll let my daddy do the washing-up

If I close one eye, the people on that side can't see me
I get headaches in the morning and I rode on Freddie's tricycle
And everywhere was funny, when I ran down to the sweetshop
Then I fell and bleeded-up my knee and everybody soppied me

I saw a photograph of Jesus and I asked him if he'd make me five
I saw a photograph of Jesus and I asked him if he'd make me five

When I'm five
When I'm five
When I'm ...
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* "When I'm Five" is an early David Bowie song (recorded in 1968 or 1969) which is really difficult to find. I've been hunting for it for years. They do show the video on Rage every now and again... but usually when I'm nowhere near a VCR. Its extra special to me because its a Lulu-Magic song.

Is it wrong that my life is filled with shoes and not children?

I seem to be surrounded by people having babies.

Everywhere I turn another random celebrity is spawning a badly named junior version of themselves.

And all of a sudden my friends seem to be casting aside their birth control. Instead of alcohol induced vomiting after a big night out, its morning sickness induced vomiting.

Its very disturbing.

Heath Ledger has a baby named Matilda. With a woman he's known for about five minutes. I've heard of patriotism Heath, but really. Matilda???

One of my mates had a baby (named after an old Aussie celeb) last year with a bloke she'd known for about five minutes. Said bloke is a tool. They've since moved to woop woop, so I hardly see her any more. She's even had a second sprog with the tool and landed the poor tyke with a ridiculous biblical name. Glutton for punishment? Biological clock ticking, hence all sense gone out the window or what?

Another friend has just given birth to her baby (6 weeks premature and only weighing about 4lbs, poor tyke)... again to a bloke she's been with for all of five minutes. This little tyke has been named after a celeb too. Although its not a bad name... just a bit common.

There's a disturbing trend here. Of my mates sprogging up to blokes they've known for five minutes that is.

My best friend (thankfully, she's been happily married to a great bloke for 4 years) has just hit her third trimester. Its taken two years for her to fall pregnant and she's had the most rotten all-day sickness for most of her pregnancy, so this kid had better be the cutest, smartest, most wonderful kid in the universe or I bet she's gonna feel really cheated. I'm sure she will be. Cute, smart and wonderful that is. We know its a girl. But she's not going to be called Matilda, even though Bestie's mom in the States is gunning for it. Distance from your relatives is sometimes a good thing.

Anyway, I could bore you with the details of about twenty other friends/work colleagues/acquaintances who are either pregnant or have just given birth, but I won't.

But let it be said, many of them have given (or are planning to give) their kids such shocking monikers that there really should be a law against it.

Think of the children people. Think of the children.

1. Don't name them after pieces of fruit.
2. Don't give them Gaelic names with such weird spellings that they'll silently curse you every time they have to say "no, that's spelt N-I-A-M-H, but pronounced Neeve" to every call centre/customer/random person they ever deal with.
3. Don't name them after dodgy B-grade celebrities.
4. Don't give them horribly old-fashioned names which would be better suited to someone in a nursing home. Just because Great-Grandad was named [_______] doesn't mean [_______] Jnr isn't going to get the shit kicked out of him in the schoolyard for having such a ridiculous name.
5. You might think creative spelling is cute, but they won't. Ever.
6. Alliteration. Not always a good thing.

There's something to be said for Denmark and their "here is a list of X number of approved names from which you must choose or we won't register the child" policy.

That is all.