Loobylu‘s current Month of Softies theme is The Recycled Monster.
Item to be recycled: one summer shirt, hardly worn.
Now, in the manner of Dr. Frankenstein, it will become ALIIIVE!
Cue much cutting, sewing, swearing and stuffing.
And so I present … El Bandito!
His eyes are a strip of the button placket from the shirt, giving him that desperado bandanna look. His ribbon is from the wrapping of one of my birthday presents. And he is outside in one of the trees, scoping out the front yard for troublemakers. I have already rescued him once from the clutches of the dogs (they think all soft toys are belonging to us). But he lives! To fight another day! For justice!
My sister is over from New Zealand, visiting Melbourne for a conference. She brought over my birthday present – or should I say presents, plural. For your viewing pleasure, I present several choice articles below …
Obviously a shout-out to my current country of residence. I have to admit, though, I have yet to see a blue and white kangaroo, let alone one with a brush for a head. I like the joey, though.
This pair of pig underpants (yes, underpants … it’s a THEME, you can’t mess with a theme) has a piece of pink elastic stitched to the pig. However, the pig’s TAIL is clearly depicted. Soooo, by deduction, the elastic bit represents … and it is at this point that my thought processes began to break down, so I put the underpants on my head. If I can’t see the pink dangly bit, I don’t have to think about it.
It’s a little angry man! On a stick! What the hell shall I do with it? … well, the precedent has already been set. Stick it in my hair!
This is one of a pair of weird Fimo hairclips, with some sort of rabbit and grass motif. I immediately put these clips in my hair when I opened them (yes, along with the stick thing pictured above, oh yeah and the underpants). In an utterly predictable move, I then forgot to take the clips out before we went out to dinner. It is a testament to my fashion sense that neither Mr. T nor my sister thought this was accidental on my part. (I am just thankful I DID remember to remove the underpants.)
My dogs love human attention. I constantly point out to the Black Dog that we got him the Brown Dog so that he wouldn’t bother us so much, but somehow this genius move has backfired. Whenever we turn around, one dog or another is piled in an untidy heap on the floor, watching our every move with intent adoring eyes.
In other words, my dogs require continual patting. And perhaps I should point out that I have Large Dogs, so the patting isn’t the gentle caress on the head I imagine small dogs enjoy.
Black Dog’s favourite patting method is being whacked vigorously on the bum, accompanied by the whacker chanting “Whack on the bum! Whack on the bum!” Black Dog contorts his fat furry body in joy, rapidly licking at nothing in an anteater-like manner. Very open, the Black Dog.
Brown Dog, on the other hand, prefers to be patted by guests. He surveys the people sitting on the couch, pads quietly up to his chosen victim, bows his head, and rests it gently on their midsection as if offering up a sacrifice. “Awwww,” most people say indulgently, and absently ruffle Brown Dog’s fluffy ears whilst continuing to talk, or watch TV, or whatever. Unobtrusively, Brown Dog increases the weight-bearing load, leaning his head incrementally harder and harder upon his chosen subject. Just as the victim realises what is happening, Brown Dog collapses forward completely and throws all his weight onto his rock-hard skull, buckling both front legs to get the maximum effect. Most people keep patting him, purely out of reflex, as they struggle to breathe.Very sneaky, the Brown Dog.
You know what this blog needs? An angry goose.
I feel a bit sick. But it can’t be due to me eating my way through the cooking chocolate. I refuse to believe chocolate could ever hurt me. Chocolate is my friend.
I was just watching “Jamie’s Kitchen” on TV, where he showed the horrendous diet eaten by many children through the UK, and was feeling all smug and horrified while eating my chicken and salad for dinner. Now what am I doing? Eating the cooking chocolate. THE COOKING CHOCOLATE. Do you know why I have to eat the cooking chocolate? Because I can’t eat the Cadbury’s Favourites. You know why I can’t eat the Cadbury’s Favourites? Because one of the dogs has learnt how to take them out of the bowl on the coffee table in the middle of the night and chew their wrappers off and eat them. In fact, Mr. T is eating the last Crunchie. Do you know why there was a Crunchie left? Because it is wrapped more securely than the other Favourites, and although the dog had it on the floor, he didn’t manage to get it open. Mr. T does concede that the Crunchie itself is pretty beat up. However he still claims the moral victory over the dog. Me, I’m just happy over here with my cooking chocolate. I may get a horrible stomach ache, but I know MY chocolate contains no teethmarks other than my own.
My slackness really does know no bounds. Well actually I have a plethora of excuses (and I must have heard ‘plethora’ pronounced in four different ways these past few days; PLETHora, pleTHORa, I can’t think of any others but believe me when I say there were at least two other ways, one of which may have been a sneeze but I’m not sure). The reason for the highfalutin’ language was my bi-annual work conference (and please note I have BANNED the use of the word bi-annual, due to haziness as regards its meaning. Twice a year? Or once every two years? Nobody knows. Only I care.) The conference was long but happily did involve drinking, and I managed to work the word ‘oogie-boogie’ into my presentation, as a foil to the plethora of ‘plethora’s spouted by other presenters. And yes, oogie-boogie is a word. Well, it’s certainly more correct than ‘a myriad of’, which rates in my Top 10 Phrases Guaranteed To Induce Rage. My current #1, if you’re interested, is ‘complement/compliment’. Bah! Foods complement other foods, they don’t compliment them! They are not interested in etiquette! RARG! HULK SMASH!
Well, the washing machine guy came back and fixed the washing machine. That’s what he does. For an exorbitant fee, apparently. But now I can wash things without leaving the house! It’s a marvel! (On the same lines, I recently won a book from the 50s off eBay on how to better manage your housework. Did you know a refrigerator should not be thought of as a luxury, but as a necessity? Also, infra-red cooking is becoming more popular and is the way of the future! (No, I do not know what infra-red cooking is. Microwave? Spot welder? Nuclear radiation?))
In other news, it’s my birthday in the weekend and I am still undecided as to plans. I am leaning towards doing nothing, but may veer suddenly towards drinking. Mr. T and I are going to Cirque du Soleil on Thursday night, so that counts as something. As long as they don’t do audience participation, that is. Not only does audience participation scare the crap out of me at the best of times, I don’t think I would be able to do any of that tightrope stuff. Although I did a bellydancing class at my gym yesterday. Verdict: hilarious. Especially the guys trying to do the shoulder shimmy.
But back to my birthday. My mum wants to give me jewellery – a gold bangle, thicker and better than my current one. She rang me at work yesterday, in fits of laughter. She works at a manufacturing jewellers and one of the jewellers was refusing to make the bangle. He insisted my measurements were wrong …gold bangle, 5.5cm diameter. I could hear him in the background. “She is wrong! That is too small! That might fit on her wrist, but she’ll never get it over her hand! How tall is she? …. hmmm. How much does she weigh? … mmm. OK, she’s small, but I’m telling you, that measurement is wrong! The last time I made a bangle that size was for my three year old niece!” So I had to take off my current gold bangle, take a digital photo of it sitting on top of a ruler, and email it to my mum. End result: my bangle will be made. In addition, I feel dwarfish and malformed. It’s win-win!
Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking
A terrible 80s mix CD I made for a workmate. It has Falco! FALCO!
Lost, just about the only TV I’m watching at present. TV sucks.
Cooking chocolate. Hey, I’m desperate here.
When people recognise the movie lines I mutter under my breath, and, better yet, elaborate on them. “It’s not a tumah!”
Are my dogs more animal or mineral? Because their fur is FILLED with sand and grit.