Coffee and wifi. I'm a class act.

So I've just been called a class act by one of my colleagues. I'd say thank you, except from his tone of voice I am hazarding a guess he was being deeply sarcastic. Maybe.

So what prompted this name-calling?

We were deep in conversation about the horrors of Frankenstorm Sandy and the total destruction it has wreaked across the ocean to our poor US and Caribbean neighbours. Some of the imagery being shown online is just downright horrifying and it's unbelievable that a 'storm' could decimate so many lives and livelihoods in one single day. Some areas seriously look like a sci-fi movie special effects and my heart is crying for everyone for their horrendous losses.

But then we lit upon this image below.

A huge cluster of people outside a Starbucks...that is closed, mind you.

Why?

Well for the free wifi, of course.

Look I know most are probably accessing the 'net simply to reach out to friends and family to let them know they're safe and well. But I bet you $100 that there's some sad little freak in there somewhere playing Angry Birds and pissed off that the Starbucks isn't open for their coffee fix. Not that I would do that, of course.

So this segued into a discussion with my colleagues of life essentials. Never mind food and water, coffee and wifi are the necessities that would see me through a disaster.

However, give me the choice of standing outside a Starbucks accessing their wifi, or smashing a chair through the window to get at the coffee, I'd be going the coffee every damned time.

Priorities.

My colleague then pointed out that there probably wasn't electricity to generate the hot water needed for coffee, hence the store was closed. I then responded:

'I'd probably just eat it straight out of the tin'.

And therein I received my 'class act' response.

Yeah OK, I probably deserved it. But desperation can do funny things to people. If I was a contestant on Survivor, I'd probably spend the first week curled in foetal position suffering extreme caffeine withdrawals, by which time I'd have pissed off every teammate with my cranky pants and attitude problems that they'd vote me off anyway. And the first thing I'd be going for would be coffee and a bath. In that order.

Now I'm not trying to make light of Sandy at all. I personally have experienced a number of cyclones varying in intensity, but fortunately for me have emerged with a roof over my head and food on the table. So my heart is with you all during this time. I wish you health, happiness and shelter, but most of all, coffee and wifi.

Yeah, I really AM a class act.

xx

Frankenstorms.

Just in time for Halloween, along comes Frankenstorm Sandy rampaging across the Atlantic.

It's as creepy and destructive as hell but not in the least funny.

My thoughts and prayers go out to all our friends across the ocean and hope that you stay safe while you bear both the brunt and the aftermath of this monster.

xx

Seeing red. Or not...

Note to self:

When you freak out and wash strawberry blonde hair colour out of your hair after 15 minutes of the recommended 25 (because the colour on the box was more 'red' than you wanted), the only thing that happens is you've darkened your blonde hair a shade or two to more resemble the natural 'mouse' you've spent years trying to get away from, just with a slight golden tinge.

Oh, and you've just wasted 15 bucks.

And no-one notices.

Nice work.

At least my hair feels all shiny though.

Fail.

xx

10,000 reasons to celebrate!

I feel a bit wanky for this one but Cathy insisted I write something to celebrate the fact that over the weekend this blog has now reached

 

hits!!!!

This blog is only about 6 months old and we honestly thought we'd be talking and giggling to each other in some weird kinda online bubble, so the fact that people around the world seem to get our strange humour and like to tune in and read alongside us...

It's really unbelievable and humbling, and completely terrifying as well! I'll admit there are times when I feel pressure to be a bit more witty or I'll write something and not want to post it as I feel it's a bit mundane. And some days are so much harder than others to feel inspired.

On the whole though, I'm really proud of this blog and feel that I'm being pretty 'real'. It's actually been a huge confidence builder for me too. One of my colleagues recently said it took some guts to write under my real name. Now me and confidence haven't exactly been bosom buddies throughout my life. But I think I woke up a few years ago and realised I'd wasted most of my young life being too afraid of life in general and it was time to stop. So posting under my real name I guess was my 'rebellion' against the fear that's held me back throughout my life. Always a rebel...

Cathy on the other hand doesn't need any lessons or prompting on 'being real' as she ALWAYS just is who she is, and has been since forever, which is why we love her so much xx

So thank you, thank you, thank you for your support. It's awesome to know that you seem to like what we write. I'd really love your feedback, so please drop me a line with any suggestions, compliments, criticisms, improvements, hate mail, etc...

Just kidding about the hate mail. I try to be tough but I'm really just a delicate flower so please be honest but diplomatic or else I'll probably cry like a little girl, and it ain't pretty.  Just saying.

Please also feel free to share any posts with your friends or click 'follow' to ensure you don't miss any updates.

Thanks again!!!

xx

Things that annoy me. Weekend edition.

So overall it's been a lovely big fat weekend full of nothing, just the way I like it. Reading, catching up on lame TV and decorating the front porch for Halloween.

Good times.

But there's been a few things that have gotten on my tits that just need to come out. So metaphorically speaking, here's me 'getting them off my chest':

• Sons that can barely be dragged out of bed without threats (mine), tears (also mine) and tantrums (ditto) on school days yet insist on waking pre-dawn on weekends and coming into bed for a cuddle. Nothing against cuddles, my # 1 son, but the persistent wiggling and 'accidentally' loud sighing in order to try to wake me up on the only days I am genuinely allowed to be lazy is just not on.

• On Friday the weather was 32 degrees. Hot. Lovely, but hot. Yet today maxed out at about 15 degrees, cold and windy, blowing my lovingly placed Halloween tableau to shit. Seriously dude? If I wanted four seasons in a day, I'd move to Melbourne. Now we're just a week or two away from summer, this is unacceptable. Only women are allowed to be so indecisive.

• Missing the event of the year (aka the annual Halloween bash at Cathy's Spooky Palace). Boo to me. The first time I've missed it in years and last night I had my sadface imagining all the ghoulish goings-on I was missing. Not to mention the cake pops.  Ah...cake pops.

• Hideous song of the day: R.I.P. I'm sorry but 'I'll make you call me daddy even though you're not my daughter'? Really? I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

• Speaking of, it's pronounced 'baby' NOT 'beebee' or 'baybee'. You know who you are. Thank you.

This is not a complete list.

xx

Cathy's 50s Housewife Friday (Saturday)...Halloween Edition

Gene Simmons, oh yeah!

Happy 50s Housewife Friday Saturday - HALLOWEEN EDITION

Hi everyone! Yes, I'm back!

 Have missed you all but my absence has been due to some very unforeseen circumstances that I am getting ready to share with you in the very near future, when I'm emotionally able 

So forgive me, and welcome me back with open arms for my beloved:

50s HOUSEWIFE FRIDAYS - HALLOWEEN EDITION!!! (on a Saturday).

First horrific song of the day:

Dead Souls - Joy Division

Ah yeah!

Followed quickly by:

More Human than Human - White Zombie

To this day White Zombie is one of the best bands I have ever seen live. '96 Festival Hall (R.I.P.). Waited out the side to meet and greet Rob Zombie, who signed my CD and smiled at me while I said something stupid and lame about how great they are.

But back to 2012...

Ghosts of Halloween Past

Am currently in the middle of  an organised chaos tornado preparing for a bunch of crazed children to hit our house for our annual spooky celebration.

Have been cleaning and baking up a storm like a good one-day-a-week 50s housewife, and have an assortment of my Pops ready to go, Frankenstein heads and mummy cake pops, and my new marshmallow pops which I am trialling for the first time...

Everything appears to be running hellishly and worryingly smoothly so I found 5 mins to wish you all a very Happy Halloween, and to ease myself gently back into reality, which I try to keep as much of a fantasy as I can but, that damned reality tends to creep in sometimes right?

Send-off track of the day:

Run Bitch Run (I've got a gun) - Betty Detox

Bwahahahahahaha

I always knew my
husband was the devil

I'm not kidding x

Cathy xx

Cathy wears many hats. Wife, mother of two sons, CEO of Little Monsters Pty Ltd and Cake Pop Queen just to name a few. She subscribes to the theory that Cathiness is next to Godliness. And on Fridays she behaves like a 50s housewife by sedating herself and cooking, baking and ironing, and being nice to her husband. Any other day is a crapshoot.

Seeing red...

Over the years my hair has evolved through a reasonably extensive representation of the colours of the rainbow, thanks to a good hairdresser friend, some personal experimentation* (*varying results. Don't ask about the green hair) not to mention a truckload of cash to various styling institutions.

Yes I am a devoted worshipper at the altar of GHD. So sue me.

Naturally fair to mouse, I've run the gamut of chocolate brown, dark burgundy (with caramel highlights, so pretty) through to bleached blonde and various shades in between. Not to mention my phase of fluoro colours (ie. pink/orange) as underneath highlights. I'm sure there's a correct hairdressing term for it but you get the picture. Not that I was desperately trying to hang onto my youth or anything by my sad, bitten little fingernails or anything.

Of course not.

So when I realised the other day I've been a blonde for more than 5 years straight, I realised measures must be taken.

But what?

Now I really like myself as a brunette, but unfortunately no-one else does (thank you Cathy for your 'too long and too dark comment of yesteryear that prompted the blonde change...best decision I ever made).  I think that rule probably applies for most stark colours for any woman of my (ahem) advancing years and pale features.

I personally would love to go pale pink but have a sneaking suspicion I'd just look like some sad old cat lady who's trying a bit too hard.



Totally makes me want lash extensions man...



Then I remembered Halloween a few years back. OK, I know what you're thinking, any inspiration based on a HALLOWEEN costume can't end well. But wait...

 So I dressed as Magenta from Rocky Horror, which took three cans of red hairspray and a rather impressive set of false lashes. No animals were harmed in the making of this costume, although I can't say the same for several towels, a few tiles, a bathmat and a pillowcase.

Or you know, the ozone layer.



Blonde me



I got so many comments though on how the hair suited me and that I should really go va-va-vroom red.

Now I'm not brave enough to do the full-on red (see comments above, mutton dressed as lamb etc) but the days AFTER is where I'm getting my inspiration.

Ever rinsed copious quantities of red hairspray out of newly blonded hair?

Well FYI, it doesn't come out all in one go. For a day you're a lovely shade of strawberry blonde and for a week or two you get the odd question of 'is that pink in your hair?' before finally going back to blonde.

So I'm taking my inspiration from the strawberry blonde part and am taking the plunge this weekend. I'll post pics so you can tell me the verdict. That's provided I don't end up looking like Ronald McDonald of course. In which case, I'll probably still post pics just so you can all poke fun offer me some much-needed advice on how to fix it without just dying the whole thing black.

Wish me (and my bathroom tiles) the best of luck.

xx

Let me entertain you...

So I haven't written in a few days and I've been making up all kinds of excuses like 'I haven't had any inspiration' (lie), 'I've been busy' (big fat lie) and 'I've been working too hard' (whopping, enormously huge my-nose-is-growing lie) but the truth is in fact, much more embarrassing...

All my favourite shows have finally decided to show their faces again so I've spent evenings madly streaming Pretty Little Liars, Two Broke Girls and of course the all-important VD. As in Vampire Diaries, not some scary STD. Just to clarify.

I have to tell the truth because my nose is pointy enough, thank you very much.

So from devouring my teen-lit House of Night book on the weekend to catching up on Jersey Shore (thank god for Deena, otherwise the house would be waaaay dull with Snooki knocked up and The Sitch off the sauce)...welcome to my (so-called) life.

Embarrassing but true.

In my defence I did manage to mow and whipper-snipper the lawn as well as spending several hours pulling weeds (note to self: never ignore gardens for 6 months, like EVER again. Hideous job. The worst) so I wasn't just sitting on my ass watching crap TV.

Really.

Although due to the ridiculous crippling muscle soreness gained by aforementioned gardening, I did spend more than my fair share of time sitting on my ass watching crap TV this week. Because I couldn't move. Seriously, I felt like I'd seized up. This gardening/exercise crap is for...for...people other than me.

So I have to say that this week has been entertaining, to say the least. Even if most of the 'entertainment' is make-believe.

One of the funniest things I've seen this week has to be Susan from Collingwood, who posted a couple of ads on Gumtree, the first asking for a Night Time Watcher, preferably one who is willing to dress as an owl. The second was for a Twilight inspired fantasy man (who must leave prior to the Night Watcher's shift, as Susan doesn't care for the thought of more than one person being with her in her house at any one point).

Due to the posts going viral and the overwhelming number of responses ranging from the humorous to the downright freaky (who knew there were so many creepers out there? Scratch that, we all knew there were heaps) 'Susan' posted the best of the best at http://susanfromcollingwood.blogspot.com.au/.

If you need a mental health break then check it out. I'm seriously jealous of 'Susan' and only wish I'd thought of it first. Biatch.

And it gave some light relief from reading everywhere about Lance Armstrong and the US Presidential Election (although you could say anything that comes out of the Trump's ridiculous mouth could be considered light relief. Case in point).

And then today I wasreminded that World Expo 88 was 25 years ago. TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO.

Oh hell. It's seriously been 25 years since we terrorised drank underage at sedately gathered on our best behaviour at the local park around the corner theme park every Friday and Saturday evening???

Now I feel old.

Happy Thursday all, hope you got entertained today!

xx

It's the end of the world as we know it...

Because the Mayan calendar and the existence of Lindsay Lohan and Kim Kardashian aren't big enough signs of the forthcoming apocalypse, now the universe has decided to hit us doubty McDoubters with another sure sign of our imminent demise:

Blood rain. On Halloween.

What delicious irony...or, or...something. It's cool whatever it is.

There's also a possibility of blood snow in Britain, but it doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

And no, I'm not kidding.

This news comes straight from the London Met office, totally legit. Well, as legit (and accurate) as our mighty meteorologists ever get.  Which is always sometimes rarely hardly ever. Click here to read all about it.

Note to maltese terrier owners: you may want to keep your yappy rats inside that day. Or not...can you imagine???

So I'm not too much up on my doomsday conspiracy religious iconography, but isn't there something about raining blood being another sign of the apocalypse?

Guess a short stint outdoors will save money on the Carrie costume for Halloween, anyway. Not to mention saving a ton on Christmas presents due to the fact that the world absolutely definitely maybe could might probably won't be ending just short of the holidays.

Bugger. And I wanted a new ipad.

Oh well, at least they've had the good grace to defer the end of the world until AFTER the most sacred day of the year...that being Halloween of course. Considerate of 'them'.

Speaking of...I need to go as 'my favourite dead person'. Any suggestions?

xx

I must have been REALLY bad in a previous life.

Dear Lord,

What did I ever do to deserve neighbours who enjoy ZZ Top on repeat at top volume while one of them throws up (loudly) in the back garden?

Why? Why? Why?

xx

Confessions of a sad, sad book nerd.

When you fall in love with a series of books, finding out the next one is available is just like Christmas!

OK I'll admit it, I'm a total book nerd. Seriously bad. My Kindle is like another limb, and before 'the best present EVER' arrived, I could pretty much always been seen wandering around clutching a paperback.

I'll read pretty much anything and everything, from serious fare to serious chicklit, to Harry Potter to a great mystery. There's only been two books in my reading history that I've never been able to get through, even if I hate the damn thing, I have to keep reading (for interest's sake, the two books in question were so stomach churning I actually wanted to be sick).


But it's a total joy to find a series of books where a) you love the writing and b) love the storyline. So often you fall in love with characters but as the series goes on, the stories and character development just gets kinda...well, lame (Janet Evanonich, I'm looking at you. Stephanie Plum just ain't what she used to be).

One series of books that hasn't disappointed me (yet...) is the House of Night books. Yes, OK, they're young adult focused books and yes OK, they're probably better suited to my son's girlfriends but I'm seriously in love with them. So there.


So when I peeked on Amazon today and saw that the latest gem, Hidden, is now available, I was like a little kid on their birthday.

Everyone says the best thing about a Kindle is that you can store thousands of books on there (I'm at about 350 and counting) as well as access to pretty much every book around, and this is completely true. But even better, no-one can tell what you're really reading so you appear completely intellectual despite the fact you're reading something better suited to your kid's teenage babysitter.

If I'm a bit quiet over the next few days, it's because I'm completely immersed in the world of Zoey and the House of Night.

Life. Get one. Got it.

Happy Thursday all, hope the perfect weather up my way is translating to everyone else! Spring has definitely sprung.



xx

Ridden hard. Put away wet.

One of my favourite expressions, along with 'hot mess'.

This sadly describes more than one in Hollywood (or indeed in Toowoomba) but the most shining example in today's pop culture surely has to be the tragic Courtney Stodden.

Currently featuring on Couples Therapy with her grandfather husband, not only has this tranny young girl accidentally called her hubby 'daddy' on more than one occasion, now she's been called out by Shane Lamas and Nik Ritchie for being...well trashy.

Can we all say duh???

Considering Nik is famous for one of the most misogynistic websites around (I just looked it up and threw up in my mouth a little)...well, you know you've found a whole new low. Ouch.

Click here to see it all in action. 'I'm sittin' across the dinner table from a little girl with her boobs hangin' out'.

Priceless.

Incidentally, how does an 18 year old girl manage to look like a middle aged tranny who's been..well, ridden hard and put away wet? I don't even know how's it's possible.

There are some people put on this earth to serve as a warning to others. Truer words were never spoken.

xx

Burn Baby Burn. Bec's Burn Book.

A few days ago I made the discovery that totally made my week. Apologies if this isn't really news to anyone else, but I have just stumbled on Suri's Burn Book.

I have a total new respect for the offspring of Xenu the unholy Cruise/Holmes union, with her commentary on the celebri-tots of Hollywood. Her sartorial fashion sense is impeccable, as is her biting wit.

Not to mention she's totally with me on the overalls and tights-as-pants issues, her love for Louis Bullock as well as utter disdain for Tom and Katie. Not to mention her budding rivalry with Blue Ivy. I won't even go into her opinion of 'gingers'. What's not to love?

Pearls of wisdom gleaned from Suri:

Mariah must be so mad that her baby turned out to be a nerd (on learning Monroe wears glasses).

Who is this beautiful alien and what has she done with the walking embarrassment who lives in my apartment? (on seeing a picture of Katie in a magazine). 

I'm impressed by how well Tabitha and Loretta Broderick dress themselves, considering their mother is such a granny mess. Way to break the cycle, ladies. I did it too, and it's harder than it looks. 

My book won't be officially released until September 4 (I'm trying to upstage Beyonce on her birthday) but like everything sought-after in the industry, it has leaked early online. You can peek inside this work of art (or even buy it) at Barnes and Noble or Amazon. Proceeds will go to the 'Help Violet Afflect Dress Better' Charity Fund. Haha, just kidding. There's not enough money in the world for that. 

And yes, there's a book! Suri's Burn Book: Well-Dressed Commentary From Hollywood's Little Sweetheart.


It's on the wishlist.

It's has made me realise there has been a GLARING omission from my blog since it's inception and I am now inspired to create my own Burn Book. Thanks Suri, you are my idol.

So introducing Bec's Burn Book. I'm excited!

1. Julia Gillard. You might be a  youtube sensation overseas for your 'anti misogynist' rant this week, however we know it was just some political misdirection to point the finger away from the misogynist whose been a leader in your camp for some time. Pot. Kettle. Black Ms Gillard. Must be Tuesday.
2. Lohans. The whole freaking lot of em. A few days ago the junior hot mess called the daddy mess to report that mommy mess was on cocaine and that junior was 'dead to her'. Cue 24 hours later and junior is saying mommy mess was NOT on cocaine and that daddy mess was 'dead to her'. Who can keep up? It's like the longest, slowest train wreck that never stops. I believe there's a junior mess-in-training out there - call Suri, she has your emancipation papers waiting.
3. Duelling famewhores Nicky Minaj and Mariah Carey. Enough said.
4. Local Toowoomba radio: for heinous crimes such as playing Flo Rida repeatedly (blow your own whistle, Flo and leave me out of it) and being enormous fans of Nickelback. Taste. Ass. I'm just sayin.
5. Final burn of the week goes to Dr Conrad Murray whose sturdy exterior belies a delicate little princess. Apparently prison is 'inhumane' and he is developing health issues which may (or may not) be life-threatening. It's called PRISON, Dr Murray. Which you got sent to for being found guilty of killing the world's biggest superstar, like ever. I don't like to wish ill on you, but seriously, you're appearing more in the gossip rags now than you were before. STFU.

Burn.

So I've got some work to do to be considered a peer of the inimitable Suri however that was fun. Burn, baby, Burn. I need a really cool logo for this don't I? Any budding graphic-savvy people out there want to take me on as a lost cause?

xx

Overall? Or a bad idea, overall?

When I was in Brisbane, when people-watching on public transport I had no shortage of inspiration for my blog. I also worked in the city, and the tourist factor was also a plethora of ideas regarding fashion, hair and generally a whole What-Not-To-Wear Tutorial.

Since living in Toowoomba, I have been driving to work which means I just don't get to see as much along the way (that is NOT to say that there aren't some fashion crimes on a whole different playing level here...refer to previous post on Cliffos. I cannot repeat due to desperately trying to repress memories that just cannot be unseen).

So I need to get my inspiration from elsewhere, ie. news, gossip blogs, and of course Facebook.

Apologies to my friend who I'm about to dob in for her heinous post this morning, asking for advice on where to buy a pair of shortie overalls.

I'm sorry honey, but no.

Just no.

I say this in the nicest possible way...

Shortie overalls, or indeed overalls of any kind, are not for anyone.

ANYONE.

Unless you're male and aged 18 months. Then there's an exception. Or a labourer, in which case it's more of a health and safety issue than a fashion choice.

Note the picture on the right. Pretty girl, clearly she's a model so the fantastic body goes without saying. And yet...

This so-called 'fashion' look makes her hips look big, gives her no shape whatsoever and the fit around the legs is just ugh.

Way to make a skinny chick look like crap (on second thought, Miranda Kerr can you please go and buy some?).

I swore when I worked with a pregnant girl who wore long overalls EVERY. DAMN. DAY. of her pregnancy that I would never, ever, ever subject myself to this travesty. And I've held up my end of the bargain. Pregnant women can only JUST get away with this (although not for work..have mercy on our souls). And really, only JUST, because we all know what those pregnancy hormones are like..

Anyone else...

Yeah no.

So this is a cry for help.

Friend (you know who you are)...please reconsider your stance. I beg you. It's in the public interest. Your interest. My interest.

Well OK, mostly my interest but surely that still counts?

So I'll throw it out there...what's your stance on the overall? (and shouldn't it be overalls? Otherwise I'll have to comment on my other pet peeve of calling trousers a 'pant'. There's a whole other post right there).

xx

Think you're having a bad day?

I thought I'd pass out when I received my latest electrical bill (damn you oil heater) but that has nothing on the phone bill this French woman recently received.

There were so many zeroes I couldn't even work out how much it was.

What she said.

So whenever you think your day is shit, just remember, at least you didn't receive a final demand for a $14.92 thousand trillion dollar invoice in the mail today.

xx

What's in a name...part II.

So this morning my cubicle-mates and I held the most interesting, rambling conversation of the type that can only occur among sleep-and-caffeine deprived colleagues at the ungodly hour of 7:30am (speaking of which, I have a caffeine-free colleague, I do not comprehend and think we cannot be friends).

Topics ranged from an Italian bloke who was gifted an espresso machine at age 10 and has lived on no less than 5 espressos prior to 9am ever since (excuse me dad, I'm nearly 40 and still no espresso machine? What's with that?), which then morphed into Italian families often calling multiple children the same name (I won't get into the details of our speculations as to why). Cue a bizarre segue into 'of all the names in the world, and they called him THAT?' conversation.

For example, my cubicle-mate was pressured to call any female offspring 'Flavia' (sorry to any Flavia's out there, but UGH). Almost in rebellion she popped out three boys before producing a girl which she named something as opposite of Flavia as she could get. Sorry monster-in-law.

I've talked about this whole naming phenomenen before in What's in a name, having a look into what your name means and whether you are born your name or BECOME it.

However with so many names up for grabs, it's become bleedingly obvious that naming your child is clearly a completely subjective thing. What's one person's trash and all that.

A few years ago a local radio station held a 'Save Barry' campaign. Apparently Barry's are dying out as no-one is naming their kids Bazza anymore. For shame. No offence Barry(s), but is that a bad thing?

A Kiwi friend's sister (living in Australia) named her son Dexter, unprepared for the unintentional hilarity in response to the name. Anyone living in Australia in the 80s will always and forever associate Dexter with the Perfect Match robot and bimbos with big hair ready to hook up for the weekend and then tell the world the bloke was bad in bed.

What a legacy. Poor kid.

Funnily enough I then went down to the coffee van only to engage in a conversation with the girl who'd held a 'freshie' last night who sadly, has been dubbed Frederick. I just hope you grow up cute, Fred. You may need it.

Now you're probably coming to the conclusion that I'm a name nazi. You might be right, but there's plenty of names I don't mind at all. I'm also not against the slightly-different name either, provided there's some kind of cool factor.  I deliberately chose Elijah as it didn't register on any top 100 'most popular' lists anywhere and of course Cathy is (in)famous for calling her son Seven. Let's be honest, we all silently went 'huh?' at the time but it completely suits him and is unique and cool.

If you want a great giggle, head on over to About Stupid Kid Names to see what I'm talking about. As they say on their home page:

'This site is our forum for the merciless mocking of parents who give their children stupid names. Note that our intent is not to make fun of children themselves, because — well, that’d just be assholish. We have children ourselves, for God’s sake. What do you think we are, monsters?'

Don't even get me started on bastardised spelling or heaven forbid, the stupid little inflection thingies over certain letters. Unless you're French or whatever, it just looks stupid.

For God's sake, I grew up with the bog standard moniker 'Rebecca' and people couldn't spell THAT. So please don't get offended when we mispronounce/misspell Laqueeessha or Madysonn or whatever the hell your addled, post-birth brain plucked as the 'perfect' name at the time.

And I've said it before, I'll say it again - if you call your daughter Destiny, what on earth is her stripper name meant to be? Thoughtless.

See I told you not to get me started.

So what is your name? What have you called your kid? And apologies if you have a daughter named Destiny, but hey, you know it's true.

xx

Some days I wish I had OCD.

So rental inspection tomorrow. One day I'll be lucky enough to get a slackass rental agent who SAYS they do inspections but really don't...this lot are overzealous in the extreme and this is actually the THIRD inspection I've had since I moved in!! My parents recently went to check out their rental property only to find SOOO many issues and it was totally clear that the rental agent hadn't been there in ages. From a tenant's perspective, that sounds like heaven! Probably not so much for the owner but I'm not really worried about them right now. So this evening will be a crazy nightmare of shoving stuff in cupboards, wiping down things and basically stacking shit up in piles to hide away for a 24 hour period. It's also pretty embarrassing that I also have about 6 boxes lying about that are still half-unpacked. Considering I've been there nearly 5 months. Oops. Every time I move I SWEAR I'm gonna be clean and so, so tidy. Find everything a home and 'everything has a place and everything in its place' and all that. Yeah right. So panic stations. Again. E has been ordered to do the 'vacuum of his life' before I get home and luckily due to the fact he's been away the lounge and his bedroom still look reasonably disaster free. Wish the same could be said of other rooms in the house though... So wish me luck in my cleaning duties and half-assed tidying this evening. Ugh. xx

Chris Brown Ass Clown.

Discuss.

Chris Brown -- I Love Rihanna AND Karrueche Tran - Watch More Celebrity Videos or Subscribe

#FirstWorldProblems

So you want to see what an effective ad looks like?

Check this out.

Watching poverty-stricken Haitans read out such Twitter nonsense as:

'I hate it when my house is so big, that I need two wireless routers'

whilst standing in front of a mud hut about the size of my bathroom that honestly looks like it's being held together on faith and a bit of string...

Powerful stuff.

#FirstWorldProblems is a tag given to those apparently 'tongue-in-cheek' rants about issues we have in our lives that we understand really are trivial in today's Twitter-verse.

Unfortunately I think sometimes the Twits tweets actually forget the irony bit.

Look we all do it, I plead guilty. Just the other day I'm ranting on about my favourite mascara being discontinued so I'm certainly no innocent here. I can carry on about coffee guy (CAPPUCCINO!!! NOT LATTE!!!!) and same hair girl(EVERY.DAMN. DAY) forever and never get bored. I can (and sadly do) discuss pop culture and celebs like they're my neighbours and quote lyrics to describe my mood.

Our lives are totally overrun with all these myriad trivialities and sometimes it's really easy to let them overtake our lives.

Until something like this ad gives us a rude reality check.

And a well-needed one.

I woke up this morning with sore arms after mowing my first lawn yesterday in 3 and a half years, and was going to post a rant on how for the first time ever, I miss unit living (no lawns! no stinkin gardens to maintain!).

I was also narked that my iphone changed itself to Sydney time for some reason and I had to reset it.

And then...

Perspective.

So I mowed a lawn. Whoop-de-friggen-do. Yes, I was hot, dirty and tired. So I went inside my clean HOUSE to drink some clean drinking WATER and then had a SHOWER to freshen up and then got into some clean clothes, of which I had plenty in my wardrobe. Although most are a few seasons old...oops there I go again...

Oh poor me.

So Monday reality check, all. Back to earth with a giant bump.

So I'm off now to try to work out why my stinkin iphone playlist seems to play the same songs all the freaking time and not the ones I want today.

xx

Lash me.

Help!

Can anyone recommend a great mascara for me?

I'm a bit of a mascara junkie. My lashes are flat, light coloured and nowhere near as thick as I'd like. A decent blacker than black mascara can totally change the way I look (none of this brown crap that makeup artists always recommend for green eyes...black all the way) and make my eyes totally pop.

A few years back I was so in love with this particular mascara, I think it was a Maybelline one. It curled, lifted and separated perfectly without looking like a few stray spiders had crawled in the vicinity of my eyes (OK skin crawling sufficiently now...dropping subject).

It wasn't gluggy, it wasn't too thick and it allowed me to do my customary dozen or so strokes that it takes to sufficiently 'lift' my old pale lashes without clumping them all together. Brilliant stuff. Best part was the price!

So OF COURSE it got discontinued. Because everyone knows to never fall in love with a product because it's a sure-fire way of ensuring it's taken off the shelves.

(Benefit - I'm calling you out here - if you ever, and I mean EVER, dare to discontinue your lip and cheek stain in Rose, there will be bloodshed. Lots of. Just saying).

So ever since then I've searched in vain for another really great mascara. I've tried expensive mascaras, cheap mascaras, and everything in between. Some are OK but they're not GREAT, you know?

So what's your mascara nirvana? I'm almost at the end of my tube of ho-hum mascara and would really like to rock a decent lash again.
xx

I'm so sorry, but...Owning your shit.

You know something, I really hate a half-assed apology.

Or apologies with strings. You know, the old, 'I'm sorry but...[insert excuse here]'.

Personally I struggle to be a grudge holder. Even when I really WANT to, somehow the anger and hurt just melt away and I find myself being nice to that person without reservation and then remembering later that I was supposed to be mad at them. D'oh. Clearly it's just not in my DNA.

I used to envy Cathy with her infamous indelible ink 'hitlist' although to her credit you really had to do some serious shit to her to get on the list.

Back to me...if someone unreservedly apologises - all is forgiven (I would also say forgotten...but let's face it, I will bring it up and rub it in your face 10-20 years later just for fun. Case in point: my good friend L who made my life a living hell at high school. I say 'good friend' because at our 10 year reunion, the first person I saw was an inebriated L rushing towards me saying 'I was a complete bitch at high school, and I'm so sorry'. Who can't admire the balls on that??? I like to bring it up as often as I can, as it's fun to have an ex-bitch as a great friend).

I also think I'm pretty free with the apologising myself. I like to think I'm reasonably self aware most of the time (although as per most people I AM the centre of my own universe so it can be hard to judge) and see genuine apologies without strings to be the sign of a strong character.  Note I said 'without strings'. 

So getting back to the point - it's hard to stay on my bad side. You have to seriously screw with me, my friends or my family and then not give a crap that you did. Repeatedly. Even then you likely won't get a tongue lashing from me, I'll just walk away and move on with my life...without you in it.

It shouldn't be that hard to just say, 'I fucked up and I'm sorry'. Seriously.

In my world, if you apologise, you apologise. Done. No bullshit, no finger pointing. No twisting or words or situations. If you need to do this, then don't apologise, because you're not really sorry.

Basically....own your shit (flashback to my stepmother and first boss drumming into my head 'take responsibility for your actions, Rebecca!!! Lesson learned - are you proud???).

I will accept pretty much any apology from anyone who just owns their shit. You'll probably find that I'll reciprocate with my own heartfelt apology, we'll go get drunk and laugh/cry about our exploits both now and in 20 years time.

Look, I'm not denying it can be hard to contact someone years after the fact and apologise. In fact it totally sucks being the bad guy at any time and I know a lot of people see apologising as a kind of weakness. Personally I think the opposite. Someone who can stand there and admit they were wrong and show genuine remorse - that can take seriously huge balls. But it has to be genuine...otherwise there is an element of 'why did they bother?'

To me it just comes down to respect. I have had friends for 20+ years where we've never fought, never spoken badly to each other, barely had a cross word. Amazing for the dramatic little biatches like we are. Respect. And if we inadvertently say something wrong we immediately own our shit and apologise before it escalates.

Works for us.

So there's my thought for the day and an adage that I'm going to use repeatedly because I like the way it sounds...

Own your shit. Own it.

xx

Things that annoy me. Part 64,952.

So it appears people like it when I'm pissed off. Apparently that's funny. Which only annoys me more, thank you. Yes, YOU'RE on the list.

So today's list, in no particular order:

• Train. Ever since I saw Pat whatsisface wearing happy pants and doing his daggy grandpa dance to the horrendous Soul Sister (TOTALLY destroying all lovely images of Ian Astbury in his leather pants and the HAIR rocking out to the similarly-titled song for The Cult circa 1992) on Kerri-Anne Kennerly a few years back, I've not been able to bear the sight or sound of this so-called 'band'. I laughed myself stupid at them thinking no-one would surely think the song was anything but a travesty.

I overestimated people. 

I instantly hated a song that came out recently that kept getting stuck in my head (although I changed the lyrics from 'help me, help me, I'm all out of lies' to 'help me, help me, I'm no good in bed' - try it, my version sounds WAAAYYY better. And you know it's true). 

It didn't surprise me one bit to find out that the hateful band-that-shall-not-be-named were responsible for this outrage. Radio stations everywhere are perpetuating it just to piss me off. I just know it. For shame. Perhaps I need to create my own radio station that is a Train and Nickelback free zone??? Oh, and Rihanna, Chris Brown, Rita Ora....and every other song I don't care for. There may not be much left, but it would be COOL. Thank you.

• Rita Ora. Not sure what 'party and bullshit' actually means but I'll pass. Thank you.

• Toowoomba Crime Reporting. yesterday, apparently a man was caught in a 'low speed car chase', according to the radio news. WTF? Conjures up a mental pic of a deaf grandad with the HAT (never trust a driver wearing a grandad hat) doing 10km on the open road with overweight police, donuts in hand, on foot in hot pursuit a la Chief Wiggum. Huh???

• Bogan voices on radio. So it seems Toowoomba has a penchant for using particularly bad bogan voices and terrible pronunciation for radio advertising. WTF, dude? I'm sorry, I don't want to go 'shoppin at Joycie cos it's Tuesdee'. It's my birthDAY, not my birthdee. And I'm never going to your bowling alley if there's dozens of bogan kids running about with their hard-partying grandmas like your ad suggests. No chance. Changing the station back to Brisbane radio yesterday, whilst the hideous playlist seemed to remain unchanged, at least the voices managed to enunciate somewhat more palatably and in something that resembled English.

Now I'm no grammar nazi (OK that's a lie, I kinda am) but seriously people. If badly spoken people turn you on and make you open your wallet, then you've got bigger problems than I can help you with. That is all.

** This is not a complete list.

xx

Love the ones you love.

What a bittersweet day.

On one hand, I got to hang today with some of the coolest, most beautiful gals and best friends a girl could ever imagine.

On the other, we were gathered to support our friend at the funeral of her father, a truly inspirational and amazing character whose legacy lives on through his children and grandchildren. A life truly well lived.

One day I hope you can read all about this simply spectacular individual. As one attendee today said, 'I feel really honoured to have been allowed to be here today'.

Well said.

The service was beautiful and I choked back tears throughout. I lost it, however, when I watched his two sons carry him out at the end.

What was amazing to me, was sitting with a fellow friend who was there in support of our mate but hadn't really gotten to know her dad, and throughout the service she said several things to me to the tune of 'OMG, THAT'S where she gets it from' and 'she's really like her dad, isn't she?' and the like. She is quite religious and shook her head at one stage, marvelling, 'it's true when they say you never really die', meaning that his children have inherited so many of his traits (good, bad and badder haha) that he will live on, regardless.

It's a wonderful and heartwarming thought.

Spending time with my favourite girls today once again filled my heart, despite sitting here with tears in my eyes regarding the circumstances. It is a shame that bad news is sometimes the only time we are drawn together with our loved ones, however I do think that any time with your loved ones is time to be treasured. Toasting this amazing man with a glass of champagne after the service was quite fitting, seeing as we probably sneaked enough booze off him as teenagers (ugh...oopss....)

Driving several hours today gave me a lot of time to think and I think I'm becoming (perhaps too much) sentimental in my old age. I'm not that much of a crier but it sometimes takes a tragedy to reflect and make you love those you love just a little bit more.

Having lost my own mum as a teenager, it's a lesson I learned early but life gets in the way sometimes and sometimes you need that jolt to remember to really love the ones you love.

Sappy I know. I said perhaps too much sentimental...

So there's my thoughts for the day. Make sure you love the ones you love today.

xx