Numb butts and dead brains. It must be Thursday.

So I'm soldiering on after a mammoth week starting with driving a few hours to collect # 1 son on Monday (more on that later) followed by a 2 day conference where I came out feeling brain dead and with a totally numb butt....

So I am an assistant and so by nature spend much of my time in an office sitting at a desk, so the abundant sitting (which can clearly be evidenced by the size of my ass) usually isn't a problem. So what's the diff, right? Well my wonderful, amazing, fabulous boss has given me a gazillion dollar Eames leather office chair which seriously is like a piece of heaven and akin to sitting on a wonderfully suspended, swivelling cloud...

Even the most comfy conference chair is clearly going to rate poorly in comparison and I must say I am so happy to have my butt back in the matter to which it has been accustomed.

I have just realised that my first post in like a bazillion years has so far focused on my ass. Oh dear.

Moving on...

So # 1 son went to Sydney for an extended weekend with my stepmother, stepsister and fam, and a cast of other thousands from their side of the family. The purpose was to go see the Lion King at the theatre and well, why not spend some time exploring Sydney too? This was pretty wonderful for a number of reasons, ie. # 1 son hasn't been to Sydney or in a plane for that matter for years so that he barely remembers it. Plus he gets to have an adventure and I get some peace and quiet! Haha.

Anyhoo, because my parents live in Tenterfield, about 3 or so hours away, we tend to meet halfway to do swapovers (I must admit we do feel like battling exes doing the kid swapover in the Maccas carpark at Warwick, but at least we do get out of the car, and you know, exchange words and stuff).

Hence the driving. I think I've probably said before that I'm not the world's biggest fan of driving.It sounds stupid but I really started to effing hate driving when living in Brisbane and dealing with stupid traffic whose singular purpose seemed to be how quickly it could make my blood boil. The more I drove, the more I started to seriously despise every car and every idiot in every car on the road. So whilst I developed an equal hatred for public transport, it was for totally different reasons and at least my blood pressure thanked me for making the switch.

Toowoomba traffic is kinda an oxymoron, so driving isn't nearly as heinous here so I've learned to tolerate it to an extent. I still would much rather have a personal driver at my beck and call but it's OK.

Still not a fan of driving more than a 10 minute distance though, which works pretty well usually as nothing in Toowoomba is really more than 10 minutes away.

I have just re-read this entire post and apologise in advance for either being offensive or dull. If I had the choice, I'd rather be offensive because there's just no excuse for dull.

So anyhoo, completely different topic...50's Housewife has turned me onto The Real Housewives and recommended I begin with New York City or New Jersey. As I can't even tolerate looking at pictures of the one who really needs to laser some of the hair off her forehead, I decided to go with NYC. Another obvious reason I that I am still having a potent and passionately raging love affair with NYC and any excuse to see images of Manhattan is OK by me.

So totally years behind, I get this, but how awful is this rift with Bethenny/Jill and how hideous are alien-eyes Ramona, the manly, permatanned Kelly and The Countess (or Dis-Count or Countess as I prefer). It's a sad state of affairs indeed when the desperate social climber and most hated from Season 1 (Alex) suddenly becomes the voice of reason. I feel quite robbed actually, that the producers made us love the devilish Bethenny/Jill combo and then suddenly you realise that both of them kinda suck.

I am persevering but it is getting difficult as I really have gone from watching in a slightly amused 'who the hell do these completely un-self aware twits think they are' fashion to really quite hating the whole entitled, horrible pretentious bunch of them.

Damn you 50s housewife. And damn you producers for creating such a car wreck of a show where I am finding it difficult to simply just look away.

And don't even get me started on The Bachelor. Or Couples Therapy. Let's just not go there.

So here's to numb butts and dead brains and junk food tv. It must be Thursday.

Bec xx