Small things making me cross

Fucking mosquitoes can just fuck off and stop using one part of me as an entree before moving on to the main and dessert. I am itchy. How dare they target me when I'm inside. That's cheating.

Cocktails and show ponies

I'm just getting slacker and slacker on the blog front. The problem is the Idealog columns. They take up all the writing time, the little hogs, suckling away at all the words and leaving very little over for this.

Also, I am a sloth.

Unemployment has struck and so far it's been very pleasant. Trips to Sydney, the Bay of Islands - lolling on a catamaran. I am not the poster child for how to find a job.

Things I noted about being on a boat: I scoffed a lot of food. I didn't get any hangovers, despite the cocktails made in a coffee plunger (only available vessel for the purpose) and dolphins are total show ponies. Great big flirts are dolphins, with their come hither leaping.

I have moved flats - and now get to touch up two cats and admire the orange tree. I had to paint my new room and I did a terrible job, but I did do it. I also put together a kitset bookshelf and only two of the shelves are glued in backwards, which I feel demonstrates a certain level of skill.

And to complement unemployment, I have hayfever. It's a right fucker.

Pants of arrogance get tighter

As I was strolling along the Viaduct last Friday night I was stopped by a handsome foreigner who told me I had made his day, such was my beauty. Unfortunately I was wearing headphones and he had to repeat what he'd said three times before I got the full message.

And I replied, 'Thanks! I get that all the time.'

Sad face

And the low light of the past two months has been today - I went to the supermarket specifically to get a chocolate eclair, which I had been thinking about for three days. And then I left it at the checkout and didn't realise until I was back home.

I know how to rock out on Saturdays

The joy of being asked for ID three times in one week, and being refused in one case for not actually having ID (saved by the lovely Raewyn), has been smashed, SMASHED I tell you by spending part of my Saturday night in KFC where they a) took forever to take our order and b) forgot mine. And inevitably I hit c) where I felt rather icky after eating it.

I am now going to wash myself to scrub off the layer of grease that appears to have accumulated in the 15 minutes I spent waiting for my non-existent burger.

Enabling smug mode

Embracing the sad and pathetic joy that is being asked for ID at 35.

Yes, Yes I Know. I am shit on the updating. Life keeps getting in the fucking way, what with its stuff. But, I did get a new teacup and I think you'll all be just as happy about that as me.

Job goes well. Books! What's not to like. I have eaten a lot of cheese, worn a school uniform and a onesie, not yet crashed the car but may have accidentally come close.

And my dad is now the proud owner of his very first cell phone, courtesy of Penelope. Text him. TEXT HIM.