23 December 2008
Oh hai! Would you like to see some nature photos?
 Isn’t that a lovely branch. Nice and large, from one of the trees that line the scenic boulevard of Swan Street. Very large indeed, it was, as it SNAPPED OFF THE TREE and fell DIRECTLY ONTO MY WINDSCREEN as I was driving along the road. Holy jesus fucking wept, people. Nature attacks! Luckily I was by myself on the road; but – I was BY MYSELF ON THE ROAD! How unlucky do you have to be, to be driving along an empty road and have half a tree fall directly on top of you? Christ on a motherfucking cracker. I had no warning – all I heard was an almighty BOOM as it hit my bonnet, then a pleasant rustling sound as it BOUNCED up my windscreen and rolled over the top of my car. What can you do? After I pulled over, and helped a cyclist pull the branch out of the road (it took two of us), and took these photos, I had a look at my car. It had a big bark scrape up the bonnet, and the branch sort of mangled my windscreen wipers (it must have pulled them up and out as it FLUNG ITSELF at me) but apart from that it seems to be OK. No dents or scratches that I have yet found, and Mr T scrubbed off the bark markings last night. I tangled with a tree AND LIVED. Nature 0, Land Rover 1.
 Look how THICK that is! If that had fallen at an angle it would have come directly through my windscreen and speared me through the heart. Or something. I’m not willing to rule it out at this point. Also I feel the need to accentuate my trauma, since I sent these photos to my boss yet got no stress leave or danger money. I did get to go to the pub for lunch though. Beer helps dull the pain of the post-traumatic stress flashbacks.
Onwards to more photos! Ones that don’t show the harbinger of my death!
I have been sewing and I have a little helper. He likes to lie on the wadding, and he likes to bat around the buttons, and he likes to jump upon a small piece of material and run off and hunch over it, nomming it like his life depends on it. But I emptied out one of my caddys looking for a zip, and when I turned back THIS had happened:
This is not right. I know there is space for two, but I don’t even want ONE. Actually, the more I look at that photo, the more I feel sort of vertiginous. It’s the angle, combined with the lines of the carpet, or something. I feel like my eyes are crossing. Maybe they are.
It’s been hot here the last few days, so the kittens are sleeping stretched out. WAAAAAY out.
Hey, that’s MY bed. And I made it and everything, which is a really rare occurrence, like, I don’t know, getting HIT BY A TREE or something. I’m not thrilled with you both lolling all over it, to be honest. Why don’t you go and sleep on someone else’s bed?
…Oh. You are sleeping on someone else’s bed. The poor dog is sleeping on the floor. That sounds about right.
12 December 2008
See, when I posted that last post, I thought to myself, “Must post again tomorrow to show I am not still drunk on heavily spiced alcohol”. And then of course I didn’t. I promise you I haven’t been sitting here half-tanked the whole time. Honest! I mean, I just about hot-glue-gunned my thumbs together earlier tonight, and I wrapped three presents then realised I couldn’t remember what they were or who they were for; but all of those things happened without the influence of alcohol. That’s just the way I roll. (I once used that in an important phone conference call at my last job. I was asked a question, paraphrased to: “Why did your counterpart do this stupid thing in this stupid way?” and all I could say was, “That’s how we do things here – that’s just the way we roll.” They wrote it into the minutes and everything. I am also available for solving world crises and mediating disputes! Form an orderly line!)
Anyway, I have really opened this browser window to tell you “Sons and Daughters” is currently on TV. I KNOW. It is like I am fourteen again and slumped in front of the television in my school uniform, knowing it was either this or hours of maths homework. It is actually very creepy seeing these stalwarts of Australian soap history all young and fresh-faced. Also: shoulder pads vs pastel-coloured sweaters. Discuss.
My Christmas tree is tiny and fake. That would make me sad, because my tiny and real Christmas tree did not survive the move to this new house and is currently in prime position just outside my front door all brown and dead (I wish I were joking); but I am so excited to have a Christmas tree at all. People, I have two kittens and a Christmas tree at knee height and ALL THE ORNAMENTS remain on the tree. And no one has chewed on the lights cord and electrocuted themselves. I mean, currently one kitten is sitting in the dog’s bowl eating his food, and the other one is gnawing on the flap of an empty box; but these things are perfectly fine because there is a sparkly, unmolested tree in my line of sight. Aaah.
5 December 2008
OK, when you go to Ikea to buy yet more glass kitchen canisters? (I know it seems likewo i go to iKea lots, but I work really reallyreally close) It is probabably a good idea to go to the Food bit after you buy stuff, and get a hotdog (although I didnt get a hotdog) and buy the seasonal food. Because, I mean., who doesn’t like christmas food? And whene you go there, and buy your gingerbreadd hearts and your little horses filled with caramel (oh those are sooooOO good, you should totallyget some of those) you should buy a giant can of Santa Beer, I’m pretty sure thats what it’s called, and you should definitely, DEFINIETLY get some glogg. That stuff. will bput you on your arse.
What?
Mny tongue is numb. This stuff is wickedd spicy.
3 December 2008
Go go go!
New Zealand has Google Maps Street View now, so naturally I looked up everyone’s houses. When I searched for my parent’s house, what should I see but MY DAD walking down the drive. He’s an internet celebrity! Which makes ME an internet celebrity! Unfortunately for his fame, he’s facing away from the street, heading down to the back of the house; and he’s in scruffy outdoor clothes, no doubt reinstalling the guttering or some other neverending job. When I told them about it, dad was just annoyed that he hadn’t turned around to see the Google car with all the cameras on it.
There has been An Incident on the new carpet. I don’t wish to discuss it, and if you’re eating you should be glad of this. Suffice it to say I got home from work and a grim-faced Mr. T had arrived just before me and was filling the mop bucket with hot soapy water. When I questioned this, he wailed, “But I don’t know what else to do!” Since nobody was having a baby, clearly hot water was not the answer. The answer was: cardboard to scrape the carpet, lots and lots of baking soda, and renting one of those carpet cleaner machines. Oh yes. It was that bad. I have no idea what the dog had eaten, but the true indignity was the CAT PAWPRINTS leading through it, thereby dotting the surrounding carpet with tiny stamps of filth. Oh, you didn’t want details? Really? Because they are seared on my memory in full technicolour glory. However, no real harm done: the carpet is back to very close to normal, and the dog’s intestinal fortitude seems quite returned. He is seven and he has never done anything like this before in his life. Of course, if he wants to live to see eight, he will never do it again. And the cats have no excuse (and who am I kidding, it would only have been one cat, I AM LOOKING AT YOU, NOSY GREY WEASEL).
I have started Christmas shopping, and I am very proud. I am glossing over the part where I bought lots of stuff for myself, including shoes which don’t kill my increasingly temperamental feet. Maybe it’s just that I’m not prepared to wear uncomfortable shoes any more, but I have become very fussy about footwear. Oh look I’ve found them on the internets. The heel is too high for my complete endorsement, but the wedge balances that out. …wait, didn’t this start off by talking about Christmas and the joy of giving? To others? Um. Ho ho ho! Anyway, getting back to the shopping: I have my dad ticked off (always difficult), most of my mum (excluding the hand-made stuff), most of my sister (ditto hand-made) and I know what I will get most other people. This leaves Mr T’s family, and he shits me to tears with stuff like this… he will walk around and whine about how he hates the crowds and shopping at this time of year, but then refuses to make a decision and ends up NOT BUYING ANYTHING. Which only means we will have to go back out AGAIN. Or, I don’t know, send his family a plant or something. They can have our dog, now that I think about it. Just don’t tell them about last week… but seeing as how the Black Dog chewed through their laundry door as a puppy, I’m sure they’re not expecting too much from any of our other immaculately behaved animals.
Did you get to see the smiley moon? I think the northern hemisphere got a frowny moon, but ours smiled at us. It’s a crescent moon with Venus and Jupiter visible as the eyes. Photo courtesy of my tiny point-and-shoot, tinged with fear of death as I stood on the water tank stand and rested the camera on the shed roof. You’re welcome.
18 November 2008
[I wrote this at work, hence the tea break.]
It is a sad fact that I cannot type my own name correctly. It is also a sad fact that I am currently driving Mr Toad in a little car aimlessly around my keyboard whilst drinking tea, but that’s not why I can’t type. What happens is, my right typing hand is faster than both my brain and my left typing hand, and when I type my name I tumble over the letters. As proof, if I type my name 10 times: jacquleine jacquleine jacquleine Jacqueline jacquleine jacquleine Jacqueline jacqlueine Jacqueline jacquliene. That is remarkably consistent, and the autoword thing has capitalised the spellings I got right, which is 3 out of 10. Poor. Anyway, I have set up an auto-text shortcut in my work email which automatically types my signoff sentence. If I type rrr it changes to “Regards Jacqueline” and ttt becomes “Thanks Jacqueline”. Every time I do this I get a warm inner glow at outsmarting myself. Ah, the pain which comes with having a first name with 10 letters, one of which is a Q. I imagine people with names like Marguerite (my mother’s bridesmaid’s name, which in hindsight I was lucky to avoid) or Augustine would understand… your fingers are all over the keyboard as if trying to play whack-a-mole.
See, this is why I don’t tend to do this at work. Strange things come out of my head. Drive on, nothing to see here.
3 November 2008
I think I have weaned myself from the Twilight thing, thanks in no small part to My thoughts on Twilight, let me show you them. I LOLed. I think it’s passed now. You can all be grateful; I know I am. Mr. T will no doubt give heartfelt thanks that he no longer has to discuss vampires with me.
My other internet timesuck that I forgot all about once The bOoks appeared: Surf The Channel. As you can tell by the link, I myself was watching my way through Weeds (a series which always seemed to be on at odd times or be taken off without notice). But you may watch whatever takes your fancy. It’s FINE. Really. I don’t mind. I DON’T.
(As an aside (which is basically this entire website, really) I have decided to leave my capitalization error up there because it reminds me of The Librarian.)
So how was your weekend? We braved Ikea this weekend (I know, what the fuck possesses me sometimes) to buy something to fit in the computer/sewing room and hold all my junk. We did this (note I am glossing over the Experience that is Ikea on any given weekend) and slid the flat pack (Part 1 of 2) into the back of the Hilux. I said, “Do I need to hold that?” as Mr. T let it go to get Part 2 of 2, and Part 1 fell over onto the internal wheel arch. And BENT. Oh god Ikea is only made of fibreboard oh god my brand new ELFSTRUNG or whatever is snapped in half before it is even out of the box. I hyperventilated all the way home, and had formulated elaborate plans on how I was going to disguise a large piece of furniture with a big break across its top. Once we opened it at home, I found to my intense relief that it had bent at some internal point where there was a gap, and nothing was damaged. But I could just see it, you know? This is exactly the sort of thing that happens to me: spending several hundred dollars on some piece of furniture that is basically made out of wet bracken and Nordic dog hair, and snapping it like a pencil before it’s even in my house. If it is going to happen, I WILL HAPPEN TO IT. Then Mr. T had to spend 1 hour 22 minutes putting it together (I timed him) with kittens trying to get into every nook and cranny. In the end I shut them in one of the cupboards. They were confused by the glass door. Maybe I won’t tell the Save a Dog people that part.
We also went to the Vic Market and bought protein: prawns, meat, and a snapper. My only criteria for seafood at the moment is that it has to be Australian, which means we eat hardly any at all because the supermarkets are full of Vietnamese fish and Chinese prawns. Anyway, Mr. T chopped the snapper’s head off and smoked it. It was delicious. This meant the Brown Dog got the fish head, and about five minutes after he ran outside with it (you don’t think I’d let him eat a fish head INSIDE, do you?) he was back at the back door howling with impatience to get back in. As I went to open the door I was yelling at him, “Where’s your head? You can’t have finished that head already? That’s the only head there is, don’t be expecting another head when you get back in here.” I then realised that I might have hit my Top 5 Surreal Conversations with Myself this week without even breaking a sweat.
PS. SHE SMELLS DELICIOUS. LIKE BACON. (I feel uncomfortable using quotes without attribution; you don’t need to go here, it is just catharsis for me.)
I am the Grey Cat, and I am very difficult to take photos of.
31 October 2008
HIIIIIIIII INTERNET.
I don’t know what it is about this time of year which makes me run far, far away from the computer. The lighter evenings, probably. Whatever it is, I just don’t write much of anything anymore. It’s a loss, clearly.
Things I have done:
I went back to NZ last week for my nana’s funeral. Not the most fun trip home. I spoke as well, which… gah. Don’t do that. On the plus side, she was 92, sharp as a tack, and died peacefully. The alternative was the cancer which was diagnosed about 6 months ago and which had recently spread to her lungs, and apparently lung cancer is a nasty and painful way to die. For something that can never have good timing, she had good timing.
I tried to convince my kittens that the washing left to dry on the airing rack is not a gymnasium. Every day I come home to a pile of wet shirts pulled onto the floor and two innocent looking faces. Look, I know it’s not the dog. He stopped pulling washing off the line about six years ago. Also he is lazy. BUSTED.
I sprayed that spray bandage stuff onto a massive scratch on my leg caused by a falling kitten. Have you used that? Stings like a motherfucker. The kittens both have claws, but Colonel Mustard still has those needle-sharp baby claws, while Earl Grey seems to have thicker adult-like claws (and never uses them). Guess which one fell off the cat tree and onto me taking photos below it? Yeah.
Oh I bought a cat tree. Crazy cat person in 3… 2… wait let me go buy some cat toys from Ikea… 1. Having said that, at least they USE the cat tree, which was my biggest concern. And it is covered with plain beige carpet, not paw print or leopard skin fabric, which was my second biggest concern. Which is funny really, considering the house in fact looks like several bombs have gone off inside it (not helped by the wet washing all over the floor). But by god at least my cat tree blends in.
I read the Twilight series, all four books, in four nights. For those who don’t know, this series is aimed at teenagers and has a massive, probably rabid, fan following and the movie of the first book is out in a month. I did not know these things, so I read them without any hype, which was undoubtedly beneficial since it is, after all, Young Adult Romantic Vampire Fiction. My favourite was Book 3, I think, but because I read them in one long ribbon it might have been the latter part of Book 2. Book 4 is awful and then GOT WORSE. Stop at Book 3 if you can make yourself. I felt faintly nauseated after reading all four books at once, but I did feel compelled to. Make of that what you will. Executive Summary: he is beautiful and cold and intense; she is determined, in a limpet kind of way, astonishingly non-self-aware and frustrated the hell of me, to be honest. But again: compulsively read all four. Tell me if you’ve read them. We can bond. Like survivors.
I started using my Kitchen Aid which I bought in the US and made Mr. T lug halfway around the world. Due to a long and boring story, I didn’t need to buy a step-down power converter to get it to work, as Mr. T installed the Australian motor instead. I am using it far more often than I thought I would. It mixes a mean banananana cake, and last night I made afghans. The biscuit, not the rug. (Speaking of afghans, I have two massive crochet-square blankets that my nana made, and although I love them because she made them, it does make me smile to know they are the height of crafty fashion at the moment.)
I have Proof of the kittens. They are almost six months old now though, and are probably better called gangly adolescents.
Why they eats my food?
Brother on brother smackdown.
29 September 2008
Yes I’m back! And I have 600 photos (probably more like 800 now I think about it) and I cannot be arsed finding any to post here. Poor, poor form. So nothing changes.
The holiday was brilliant and we had a fantastic time. Highlight = Yosemite National Park, hands down. I could have spent close to three weeks there alone. I ate lots and lots of sweet food, bought too few clothes and shoes and too many kitchen accoutrements, and we just about hit an elk. No bears, though. I’m quite disappointed about the bears. I promise I will dig up some photos at some stage, but it’s either write this now and throw it up there or wait for a magical post full of photos. I think we know which it’s going to be.
Also, on Saturday it was Grand Final Day but we scorned it and went to the RSPCA for kittens. Which sadly means that my cat has not come home since he disappeared during a massive storm in April. We are sad about that, because he was The Best Cat In The World. However if he comes home now, he will have to deal with two kittens in his house (one of whom is currently biting my ankle OW and the other is making eyes at the mouse cord). Much as I would have liked to adopt an adult cat or two, it’s just not fair to make them deal with a gigantic dog who loooooves cats. So kittens it was. There were very few cats at the RSPCA, so onwards to the Lost Dogs Home in Malvern, which also has Lost Cats. There we found two 5-month old littermates, and now they are here.
Photos (probably waaay too many) to follow. However I will let you determine their colourings by their internet names: Colonel Mustard and Earl Grey. I think I have posted here before my love of the name Colonel Mustard; and Earl Grey is funny. Take my word for it.
Oh wait, I do have a couple of photos on this computer. This should tide you over. I’d like to be here right now.
25 August 2008
Why hello. I am here. What have we been doing? Have we been running? Not noticeably, thanks to the long streak of rainy days Melbourne has had. (Did it rain today? No. Did I run today? No. Shut up.) So we are still on week four of the podcast. It’s lonely here. Four is the loneliest number.
Speaking of hiding indoors, I trialled the 2-week free Quickflix DVD thing, and it expired on Monday. Expired, meaning, unless I cancel it they will, as a “service”, sign me up to an account and charge me money. So on Friday I went on the internet and clicked the “cancel my subscription” button. It went… to a page telling me to ring customer support between the hours of 9am and 5pm.
[deep breath]
May I remind you, denizens of the web, that this is an INTERNET-BASED BUSINESS. You choose movies and write reviews on them and queueue(ueue) them to your heart’s desire, all within the confines of your computer. But to cancel I have to ring a phone number? Within business hours? And quite possibly sign me up and charge me in the interim, requiring me to fight to get that money back? Oh no. No no no. I am NOT impressed. So I ring on Monday morning, at 9.10am or so, only to have the phone go through to a “press the buttons” service (“press 6 to unsubscribe” – maybe six is the loneliest number?) and then the phone rings. And rings and rings and rings. And rings. And then it goes back to the options menu, requiring me to press 6 again. And it rings. And rings ringsringsrings. And then I am back and I press 6. Argh! It is like “Lost”! I am in a bunker, I swear it! After 28 minutes of this (I am tenacious) I finally hung up and went to get something to drink. I no longer work with alcohol and never have I regretted it so much. After half an hour or so I rang back, and after only 16 minutes or so I got through to a person. Who promptly unsubscribed me, no questions asked. So. WHY COULDN’T I DO THAT ON THE INTERNET? Fuckers. I watched 6 movies in the two weeks and one of them had Lindsey Lohan in it and I really don’t think it was worth the pain.
 Hmph. So, what else? Oh, this is me. Although not really. The avatar people don’t have my hair. What, limp and straight not one of the major options for people? How can that be? Anyway, close enough. I didn’t think it looked much like me so I asked Mr. T and he said it looked freakily like me. Or maybe just freaky, I wasn’t really listening. Anyway, I don’t think it’s much of a likeness but eh. I added the scarf as I’m wearing one most days. Yes, round the office. It’s cold.
Also, I’m trying to fit this writing-in-blog stuff in as I’m on holiday for three weeks on Sunday. YES OH YES BRING IT ON. This is the great American shopping and wilderness adventure we have been hanging out for. I say “hanging out for” and you would assume it was all meticulously planned, right? Oh no. No no no. We just assume these things will happen for us. I don’t know how, because our, ahem, travel agent is currently writing in her blog and eating a chocolate biscuit. (Mint slice!) And then about a week and a half before we fly out, we get all freaked and motivated and start blaming each other and researching and booking shit left right and centre (prompting phone calls from the credit card company – thanks Visa, but if you hold the transaction as I’m buying groceries at Safeway because my last seven credit card charges were for accommodation in the USA, I will look like a criminal and I will have NOTHING TO EAT) and finally we have figured out what we’re doing. Mostly. Four major cities & three national parks in three weeks, is what we’re doing. What? It’s doable. And if anyone tells you that you need to book accommodation in two of America’s most popular national parks months (or years) in advance you can tell them to SUCK IT because I am currently some sort of accommodation booking super-being. Although I am sort of doubtful about my super powers as currently I am freaking the fuck out at the DANGER DANGER BEARS DANGER notices on all the Yosemite photos I’m finding online. Fuck. Bears. I’m not prepared for bears. Mr. T keeps reading out all these internet horror stories to me about tourists leaving one apple in their car and they wake up the next morning to find the front doors ripped off and a gnaw mark in the apple. I don’t need to know! I can live without apples, I swear! We just won’t eat!
So there’s that. Have I started packing? No, although I have dug out a tiny plastic bag in which to pack my liquids and gels (heh, dirty). Have I prepared the house for my friends who are housesitting the whole time we are away? No, they will walk into a pit of squalor, and they will ENJOY IT. Have I completed all my work at work so I can go away feeling free and refreshed? No no oh my god SO MUCH WORK. So, yeah. All continues as normal. How bout you?
12 August 2008
Sorry for my absence, I’ve been stuck in traffic. More specifically, behind THIS fucker:
I think the part that gets me the most is that this is the sort of person who drives inconsiderately – sitting miles below the speed limit in the right hand lane – then complains about the aggressiveness of other drivers. I mean, have you SEEN Australia drivers? They will take you out without a second look, then reverse blithely over your shattered hatchback. I sense doom approaching for this self-righteous letter writer (or is that a tautology?)
In other news, I am slowly building my photo reserves back up:
I took this photo to send to my nana, as when I was home at Easter she wanted my sister and I to take whatever we wanted out of her china cabinet. She has moved into a rest home and has no room for her things. So on my kitchen windowsill last week were both the hand-etched measuring beaker (in pints! no she can’t remember who made this or what it was used for!) and a little blue faceted glass jar. The dead looking vine out the window is the grapevine, which was really pretty in summer and autumn. A surprising amount of plants have survived our benign neglect over the few months we’ve owned this house… although I think lavender and grapevines are both pretty hard to kill? That’s what we’re banking on anyway. I would say ‘send rain’, but we have heaps. Thanks.
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phantasmagoriaReading:
Stephen King, "Everything's Eventual". I found this abandoned in a suitcase.
Listening:
The snores of the Little Dog, who sadly seems just as loud and snorty at night as the Brown Dog.
Watching:
Endless episodes of UFC, which is some sort of fighting... thing. Do not want.
Eating:
I'm having a bit of an avocado binge. The Little Dog likes them too.
Liking:
Renovations! Apart from the cost of said renovations. Let's not think about that part.
Pondering:
If there is dirty washing in the basket, the cats ignore it... but if it is CLEAN, one of them has made a nest in there within 10 minutes. Five minutes, if it's black clothes.
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