My photos on Flickr
Society of Penny’s Cartooned Friends
Stuff I’ve already done
Yes, it’s true, I read a beauty blog. But not for the reasons you think.
Zoe Foster Blake is a former beauty editor for Cosmopolitan magazine, was the managing editor at Primped.com.au for three years and wrote a beauty book called Amazing Face (which I have. It is v v good).
She is also a novelist, although I have never read any of her books.
But her website, Fruity Beauty, is just about the best, most fun, well writted beauty blog evah. It’s not all about make up (just as well, since I never wear that stuff).
The best thing about Fruity Beauty (aside from the content) is ZoZo’s (I call her that because in my mind, we are already best friends) writing style, which will keep you engrossed but make you laugh at the same time.
I highly recommend it.
Right now, I can’t think of a good answer to this question. Over the past year, instead of just rambling about stuff that rattles around my brain, I’ve focused on shoes and clothers. And the occasional recipe. But I’m not inspired at all.
Tell me why you blog. Please?
According to a survey done by Wilkinson’s Sword (a shaving company), these are the top 20 things that women try to change about their men.
I’ve had a good hard look at the list and I must say, there’s only one thing on it that I’ve actually tried – and succeeded – to change about the boy. Swearing. We both swear a bit occasionally but he is banned from saying the “c” word around me. I find it horribly offensive for reasons I can’t explain, I don’t even like the sound of the word. It only took me three times to say “please don’t say that word around me” and I haven’t heard it now for seven years.
Why haven’t I tried to change anything else? Well for starters, he is who he is and I don’t actually want to change him. Secondly, he’s adult enough to know how to dress and when to shower. Okay he can’t cook but he makes up for it by doing the dishes every night.
Oh, and although he doesn’t actually cleanse and moisturise daily, he does use Clarins Men’s Face Scrub in the shower every morning. And I get in trouble if there isn’t a new tube in the cupboard when he runs out 🙂
I first saw Michael McIntyre on Top Gear a few years ago. I’d never heard of him and thought it would be a boring interview but I think he was the funniest Star in a Reasonably Priced Car ever!
Enjoy this video, it goes for a few minutes but is totally worth it.
I have watched it several times and I scream with laughter every single time.
p.s. I’m away on holiday for a few days. Regular posting will resume later.
ALERTS TO THREATS IN EUROPE : BY JOHN CLEESE
The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Libya and have therefore raised their security level from “Miffed” to “Peeved.” Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to “Irritated” or even “A Bit Cross.” The English have not been “A Bit Cross” since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from “Tiresome” to “A Bloody Nuisance.” The last time the British issued a “Bloody Nuisance” warning level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.
The Scots have raised their threat level from “Pissed Off” to “Let’s get the Bastards.” They don’t have any other levels. This is the reason they have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.
The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from “Run” to “Hide.” The only two higher levels in France are “Collaborate” and “Surrender.” The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France ‘s white flag factory, effectively paralyzing the country’s military capability.
Italy has increased the alert level from “Shout Loudly and Excitedly” to “Elaborate Military Posturing.” Two more levels remain: “Ineffective Combat Operations” and “Change Sides.”
The Germans have increased their alert state from “Disdainful Arrogance” to “Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs.” They also have two higher levels: “Invade a Neighbor” and “Lose.”
Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels .
The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.
Australia , meanwhile, has raised its security level from “No worries” to “She’ll be alright, Mate.” Two more escalation levels remain: “Crikey! I think we’ll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!” and “The barbie is canceled.” So far no situation has ever warranted use of the final escalation level.
— Attributed to John Cleese – British writer, actor and tall person
Last week I was all inspired and scheduled three posts here. Since I wrote the last one – about 10 days ago – (aside from the actual conversation filler) I haven’t had much inspiration. My life is reasonably regular and nothing THAT exciting happens. If you don’t count the numerous scratches Teddy gives me, or the astounded looks the boy and I give each other after one of the cats has done a psycho run from the back door to the front of the house and then up the stairs (with a road-runner cartoon like screeching u-turn at the bottom of the stairs).
With that in mind, I thought I’d give you a rundown of how my not-very-exciting day goes, in a typical week.
6.20am Alarm goes off, I hit snooze.
6.29am Alarm goes off again, I get up.
6.53am Having washed me and my hair, I wander into the other bathroom and do the “beauty routine” – eye cream, facial moisturiser, hair stuff, body moisturiser, deodorant.
7.00am Let Teddy out of his room, which is also my wardrobe, and spend five minutes wondering what to wear to work.
7.05am Get dressed, remove Teddy from the bottom of the cupboard, yell as he bites my foot, go into bedroom to put on earrings and ring. Collect iPhone which doubles as alarm, put in wardrobe along with whatever shoes I decide to wear that day.
7.08am Dry hair. Curse the fringe I am growing out.
7.15am Go downstairs, prepare breakfast for the boy and for me. Open kitchen and living room blinds.
7.30am Depart for work. The boy drives to work and drops me off along the way.
8.00am Arrive at work, turn on computer, turn over day calendar, make cup of tea. Work on stuff.
10.00am Time for another cup of tea. More work.
12.00pm Lunchtime. Visit cafe downstairs, be unimpressed with selection and have sushi again. Spend time on interwebs reading blogs etc.
1.00pm More work on stuff.
2.00pm Eat yoghurt. Then do more work.
3.00pm Last cup of tea for the day. Work.
4.00pm Boss comes out of her office and tells me it’s time to go home. Pack up and head to the tram stop, where I am either able to get on a tram within a minute, or am forced to wait 20 minutes for no particular reason.
4.50pm Arrive home to joyous greeting from cats. Remind Huffle it is not yet dinnertime. Change into trackies!
5.00pm Either fold up washing, or settle on couch and watch Trinny and Susannah. Then the news.
6.30pm The boy arrives home, discussion about the day, decision on what to have for dinner.
7.00pm Cook dinner, eat. The boy does the dishes.
8.00pm Watch TV, play on computer, watch in amazement as cat does psycho run, laugh about stuff. Wish there was more interesting stuff on TV.
10.30pm Turn off lights, wait for the boy to play laser dot with Huffle, go upstairs and brush teeth, take migraine medication, flop into bed.
11.00pm Stare menacingly at boy who is fast asleep and snoring his head off. Contemplate smothering with a pillow. Fall asleep.
Other exciting things happen on an irregular basis, but that’s pretty much how my weekdays go. Occasionally I mix things up and have peaches instead of yoghurt. I can tell you’re jealous.
You know you’re Australian if …
You believe that stubbies can be either drunk or worn.
You think it was normal to have a leader called Kevin.
You’ve made a bong out of your garden hose rather than use it for something illegal, such as watering the garden.
You’re liable to burst out laughing whenever you hear of Americans “rooting” for something.
You understand that the phrase ‘a group of women wearing black thongs’ refers to footwear and may be less alluring than it sounds.
You pronounce Melbourne as ‘Mel-bin’.
You believe the ‘l’ in the word ‘Australia’ is optional.
You believe it makes perfect sense for a nation to decorate its highways with large fibreglass bananas, prawns and sheep.
You call your best friend ‘a total bastard’ but someone you really, truly despise is ‘a bit of a bastard’.
You think ‘Yackandandah’ is a perfectly reasonable name for a place.
You’re secretly proud of our killer wildlife.
You believe it makes sense for a country to have a $1 coin that’s twice as big as its $2 coin.
You instinctively understand that ‘Wagga Wagga’ can be abbreviated to ‘Wagga’ but that ‘Woy Woy’ can’t ever be called ‘Woy’.
You believe that salty Yeast Extract makes a good breakfast spread. You’ve also squeezed it through Vita Wheats to make little Vegemite worms.
You believe all famous Kiwis are actually Australian, until they stuff up, at which point they again become Kiwis.
You expect beetroot with your Hamburger… Of course!
You know that certain words must, by law, be shouted out during any rendition of the Angels’ song ‘Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again’, and “Living next door to Alice”.
You believe that the confectionery known as the Wagon Wheel has become smaller with every passing year.
You wear ugg boots outside the house.
You believe that every important discovery in the world was made by an Australian but then sold off to the Yanks for a pittance.
You believe that the more you shorten someone’s name the more you like them.
Whatever your linguistic skills, you find yourself able to order takeaway fluently in every Asian language.
You understand that ‘excuse me’ can sound rude, while ‘scuse me’ is always polite.
You know what it’s like to swallow a fly, on occasion via your nose.
You know it’s not summer until the steering wheel is too hot to handle and a seat belt buckle becomes a pretty good branding iron.
Your biggest family argument over the summer concerned the rules of beach cricket.
You shake your head in horror when companies try to market what they call ‘Anzac cookies’.
You still think of Kylie as ‘that girl off Neighbours’.
When working at a bar, you understand that male customers will feel the need to offer an excuse whenever they order low-alcohol beer.
You know how to abbreviate every word, all of which usually end in ”-o”: arvo, combo, garbo, kero, lezzo, metho, milko, muso, rego, servo, smoko, speedo, righto, goodo etc.
You know that there is a universal place called “woop woop” located in the middle of nowhere…no matter where you actually are.
You know that none of us actually drink Fosters beer, because it tastes like shit. But we let the world think we do. Because we can.
You have some time in your life slept with Aeroguard on in the summer. Maybe even as perfume.
You’ve only ever used the words – tops, ripper, sick, mad, rad, sweet – to mean good. And then you place ‘bloody’ in front of it when you REALLY mean it.
You know that the barbecue is a political arena; the person holding the tongs is always the boss and usually a man. And the women make the Salad.
You say ‘no worries’ quite often, whether you realise it or not.
You understand what no wucking furries means.
You’ve drank your tea/coffee/milo through a Tim Tam.
You own a Bond’s chesty. In several different colours.
You know that roo meat tastes pretty good, But not as good as barra. Or a meat pie.
You know that some people pronounce Australia like “Straya” and that’s ok.
There hasn’t been that much news around here lately. Teddy is here, and being cute, and Huffle is still not impressed. I’m off to the vet today to buy a Feliway diffuser, surely that will help. I’ve had most of this week off work, which is lovely. Last night I went to the Australian Open and saw a couple of great matches. Kim Clijsters demolished Dinara Safina in a very short amount of time, then Lleyton Hewitt and David Nalbandian played an epic match that lasted nearly five hours. It’s just a shame Lleyton lost.
The boy and I are house hunting this year. We need more room so we have to move. We’ve already been to see a couple of houses and neither was quite right. But we plan to buy a new place some time very soon! I’m not looking forward to the actual move but it will be so nice to have a bit more room. Our kitchen is too small, my computer sits on the dining table because there isn’t enough room for a second desk, the boy wants a room where he can build train layouts… it’s all good.
Meanwhile, since I really don’t have anything terribly exciting to tell you, here’s another photo of little Teddy to make you go AWWWWWWW. I know it’s a bit blurry, but I think it’s adorable.
My eyes need some serious washing.
Today, in the cafe downstairs in the building I work in, I saw a woman wearing stirrup pants and high heels. And she wasn’t even being ironic.
On Tuesday, on the tram on my way home from work, I saw a woman wearing leopard-print leggings (AS PANTS – you all know how I feel about this) with Ugg boots, and socks pulled up above the Ugg.
I can’t decide which was worse.