My second favourite F word...guilty pleasures and pretentiously awful people doing fabulous things.

So I've got a confession to make. This is beyond embarrassing, but in the interests of full disclosure, here we go:

I've started watching #RichKids of Beverly Hills. And I can't stop.

Feel free to hurl abuse here. It's deserved. Completely. I might cry but that's my cross to bear.

I think I must have been really bored one weekend, or comatose, or whatever, because even I know how wrong this is on any and every level, especially for someone my age who really should know better. Heck, a 10 year old would know better than to indulge in this crap, but there you are.

Anyhoo, it's even worse than the title. It's hideous, pretentious and stupid, filled with some of the most un-endearing, spoiled characters you'd ever hope to (not) meet, ie. horrible people doing fabulous things. Like the Kardashians on crack, who nonsensically  impart such UN tongue-in-cheek wisdom as:

'My arms aren't really long enough for a selfie sometimes'

'Walking from Barneys up Rodeo is cardio'

'My occupation is being funemployed and fabuluxe'

'When Saachi spilled sangria on my marigold yellow velvet Chanel boy bag and satin Charlotte Olympia shoes, I kind of freaked out initially'

and my favourite (after viewing yet another selfie):

'Do I look this bitchy in real life?'

Why yes. Yes you do.

Watching these spoilt  Bev princesses hit NYC was one of the funniest things, you can clearly see that everyone in NYC thinks they're provincial little hicks while they swan around in their own (self-perceived) fabulosity. Hilarious.

I think the only saving grace of this show is Morgan, one of the main characters, who is the only one who is seemingly in on the joke. She seems completely aware of how ridiculous she is and seems to deliberately revel in the hideousness, coming out with gems such as:

'I will literally check Instagram four times in a row and then be like, I’ve seen all these pictures, it’s awkward, I should probably call somebody or do something with my life'

Morgan's singular claim to fame is her blog 'Boobs and Loubs' which I must admit I haven't yet read, but sounds pretty self explanatory. She outright admitted that she barely updates it anymore (it's pretty hard to find the time between spin classes and pressuring her boyfriend to propose) but then turns around and throws a $25,000 party to re-launch the blog.

Yes, you read that right.

I'm so ashamed that I've gotten hooked into this drivel. I mean, there's the Real Housewives, there's The Bachelor, and then there's this.

I've hit a new low.

What's your guilty secret?

Happy Friday, y'all!

Bec xx

My second favourite F word...black news days and Dexys Midnight Runners.

So yesterday was a terribly 'black' news day. The horrific 'hacking to death' (could there be a more descriptively awful and evocative phrase in the English language?) of British soldier Drummer Rigby in broad daylight whilst the sick perpetrators actually encouraged people to film them is just beyond words.

Follow this with the backlash retaliation by some half-wit extremist groups (read: ignorant fuckers) against Islamic communities in the UK, despite the fact that it turns out that one of the sick fucks involved in this was a convert to sermons conducted by a Sheikh who was actually BANNED by Islam.

I am just sickened and completely without words.

Some wonder why I tend to 'skate' on the lighter side of life, particularly on my blog, tending to ignore some of the more appalling world news events in favour of something entirely self-centred and generally focused on my hair or something of that order.

The main reason is that I have a ridiculously overactive imagination and a very well developed ability to obsess over bad things to the point where I can literally see it in my head, not to mention my nightmares. I will cry over it, rage at it, dwell on it and visualise it until I collapse in a messy heap. I'm not a good horror movie person, let's put it that way.

And this is the worst kind of horror - there is now a little boy in England who will grow up without his daddy simply because his father happened to be leaving his barracks at the most inopportune time while some whacked out homocidal maniacs happened to use him as a poster child for their sick agenda.

It seriously makes me cry for humanity (what humanity?) and for the future of our global society.

See what I mean, this is why I stick to preferred mascara choices, I am sitting here almost in tears of frustration, anger and sorrow for this tragic event and this young man's life cut tragically short. Every time I close my eyes I see that bloodied image of the man holding the meat cleaver and basically PROUD of himself for taking another human being's life.

It makes me want to vomit.

So I was searching for something to lighten my spirits yesterday and there was pretty much nothing. Tragic event after tragic event, something nonsensical about your 11 most hated commuter traits, Ford factories in Australia closing with a couple thousand jobs to go...

Like I said, a black news day. One of the very blackest.

So it was with a bit of a sigh of relief to wake up this morning to find that whilst there is obviously more coverage and detail on recent horrific events, that something similar had not occurred while I was sleeping.

And then to realise today is my 'one year' birthday at my new workplace and I am anticipating a lovely lunch with my boss and a few of my favourite colleagues. I'm also having a great hair day, which changes everything.

And then to 'random shuffle' my ipod to have this catchy oldie pop up as first song of the day:

Come on, you know you're humming along.

Plus next weekend I am going to a black tie masquerade ball which I am seriously looking forward to, nothing like getting costumed up and I have scored myself a seriously cool mask...pics to follow!

And I've acquired some serious fire-building skills in the past few days, thanks to winter suddenly hitting with a vengeance (coupled with the most frightening power bill EVER last winter).

So things are looking up. Fingers crossed for news to follow.

Bec xx

My second favourite F word...typing in fingerless gloves is not funny. Seriously.

Wow I wonder if I remember how to do this?

Hi all, my name is Bec and once upon a time I started a blog which I wrote in religiously for quite a while. I then got distracted by a shiny object or two and my attention wandered...and then wandered back...and then away...and then away...then back...then away...

You get the picture.

I have been feeling super guilty for not updating my blog and also a bit addled, which I think probably is a symptom of not writing enough to 'sort out my shit'!

Anyhoo here I am, welcome back me. I always make a solemn pledge to never, ever, ever wander off again but I won't bother because we all know I'd been lying so hard my nose would grow, and seriously, does anyone ever say 'gee, I wish I had a bigger nose'???? I mean, apart from Michael Jackson that is.

So I can't even remember what I was up to last time I wrote, it was that bloody long ago...something about having a mid life crisis...some old bird jumping in front of me in photos...some other self-obsessed drivel...yada yada...40th birthdays...bad hair days...blah blah blah....more self-obsessed drivel...

So yeah, nothing's changed then. Clearly.

I'd like to say I've been off having a life but that would also be patently untrue. If I'm being blatantly honest, I've discovered a few new TV shows and have been basically glued to my laptop catching up on all episodes of not just the current favourites but others that I hadn't yet seen, like Hart of Dixie, Once Upon a Time, the latest Australian Apprentice and I've just discovered (very belatedly and upon the recommendation of my stepsister who freely admits it makes her feel like a voyeur) Big Love.

Now I know the reality of living with three wives. Poor Bill, I mean really, it's a full-time job just trying to satisfy one wife...these polygamy guys might look like they're having their cake and eating it too but logistically? Not that I would probably mind having three husbands, as long as it didn't mean 3 x picking up dirty socks and 3 x having to find everything because the 'boy look' didn't make it jump instantly into their hands. On second thoughts, I already have one teenager in the house, happy to leave it at just that, thanks!

OK so here's something that's not TOTALLY self-obsessed - my #1 (and only) son has just been given a huge academic award at school and has also been invited to participate in the selection process for an advanced academic programme at his school that basically gets him finishing a year ahead and getting to study university subjects while still in grade 12. I am simply such a proud mum right now that I think I'm gonna burst.

He gets his brains from me, obviously.

Now anyone who knows me and my son knows that E has always been a pretty bright kid with...ahem...shall we say...some issues in the way of applying himself. If I had a dollar for every time I'd hear 'lacks motivation' from his teachers...well let's just say it was like revisiting my own high school career, where I'd only bother trying if I liked the particular subject matter, otherwise...

So it's pretty exciting. My gorgeous little nerd. He's gonna rule the world one day and we'll all be working for him.

And I just realised I managed to make my son's awesome news all about me so clearly I don't lack skill in that area.

We all have our strengths.

So last week it was warm and sunny in lovely Toowoomba and then two days ago I woke up and it was farking freezing. The winter gear has come out to play and I desperately need to organise a load of firewood STAT.

And Mr Cubicle Neighbour (you know who you are), it is way impolite to laugh at someone wearing fingerless gloves while typing. Everyone knows you can't type properly with normal gloves on and YES, IT IS THAT COLD.

I'm really looking forward to the day where I'm forced to bring out the nanna blanket. Or heaven forbid, the earmuffs. Cause he didn't have enough to laugh at before. I should charge him for sitting near me, clearly I'm providing free entertainment at the expense of only, you know, my self esteem.

So next week marks my one year anniversary of departing the anthill known as Brisbane CBD for the mountain town of Toowoomba. I'll have to write a special blog post commemorating my 'anniversary'. Or you know, not.

My boss is marking the occasion by taking me out for lunch. Usually people have to work here 10 years to get a special 'anniversary' lunch so I am wondering whether working with him for one year is the equivalent of working elsewhere in the company for 10 years? Or perhaps he just wants to congratulate himself for putting up with me for 12 whole months. I'm betting on column B here.

So anyhoo, I hope you have enjoyed my first blog post in quite awhile - I have so much in my head that I'd like to write and say so fingers crossed I'll actually get around to it this time!

Bec xx

My second favourite F word...farewell bad hair days.

So for the last couple of weekends, I've been subjected to every renter's nightmare - the dreaded 'open house'.

Having to keep the house clean at all times 'just in case' a prospective buyer comes around, and then the major clean-up for the open house, not to mention the horrible thought of people looking inside your drawers (no pun intended) and checking out the contents of your cupboards...

Ugh.

So creepy.

I made the mistake of checking out the listing on the real estate agent's website to find that they'd cleared off a lot of my stuff for photographic purposes. That feels weird. Although I did get a perverse sense of satisfaction knowing that two grown men had spent some time clearing off my Monster High doll collection from the mantelpiece and then re-arranging them in their pretty tableau. (it is rather disturbing to note they did a remarkably good job).

Haha.

It makes me wonder if the agent comes early to the open house and packs away my dollies before the hordes descend? Or if he just lets people think (correctly, as it turns out) that the renter is simply a kook, or else has a 12 year old boy who plays with goth dolls...

I'm giggling just at presumed reactions...and the look on my son's face if anything thought the dolls might be HIS.

Anyhoo, the house has been SOLD and we're just awaiting the building/pest inspections and it will be done and dusted.

So I'm FREE.

So excited to be facing down a weekend where I'm stubbornly NOT going to clean or lift a finger and instead have scheduled the most girly of girly days for tomorrow.

First up - a cut and colour and my newly adopted salon. This probably doesn't sound like that big a deal, but for many, many years I was one of those ridiculous people who was the most religious hairdresser-goer ever. My hair was perfect, my colour stupendous and bad hair days...what were those?

Then life got so bloody expensive and about a year ago, my luxurious visits to my beautiful, albeit hugely expensive, hairdresser had to be sadly sacrificed at the altar of creditors.

Oh it was the hardest decision of my life.

Now I'm also ridiculously precious about who gets to touch my hair, so I've always just gotten a cut at a salon first to see if they totally buggered it up. And sadly, since moving to Toowoomba, three salons which shall remain unnamed totally botched it.

So basically it's been a year since I got my hair professionally coloured, er I mean...yes of course I'm a natural blonde...

Instead I've been forced into a series of home jobs, some more successful than others.

Suffice it to say, there are about 7 different variations of colour on the same strand of hair, which together with the horrible roots makes me simply want to cry every morning when looking in the mirror.

And then I found Jess at Oscar Oscar. My cut last month was fabulous so I'm so excited to be going tomorrow for the full 'works'. Stay tuned for photos (or tears).

My nightmare may well be over!

I also mentioned a while ago about my imminent midlife crisis and my desperate obsession dedication to staving off 'old' in a futile attempt to keep my youthful, fresh looks.

Haha.

So anyhoo, I've since basically married Karlia at Pure Indulgence who has set me on a path that she assures me will have me looking more Kylie Minogue than Jocelyn van Wildenstein. At least she hasn't produced any needles yet.

So my 'programme' consists of a multitude of sandblasting, I mean microdermabrasian, layered with a few peels and a new skincare regime to basically get my skin to 'renew' itself.

Sounds like a load of hokey but I must admit every day my skin is looking better and better and dare I say it...younger???

Unfortunately after every treatment I'm still breaking out like some sad teenage mofo but hopefully once my skin is successfully 'renewed' by some miracle my skin might decide that adult acne really is just too embarrassing for words.

So following my hair appointment tomorrow, I get to visit Karlia so that she can go over my face with a cheese grater.

Bliss.

I cannot wait! What an awesome day to look forward to (and the best part is, I've paid upfront for the skin programme so I kinda feel like I'm getting a freebee).

Happy days!

What are your plans for the weekend? Hope you're day will come close as being as good as mine!

Bec xx

My second favourite F word. And the kindness of strangers.

Hooray! It's my second favourite F word again and I'm so happy to be looking at the onset of the weekend.

It's been an insane week, just so much going on, I feel I've barely had a chance to breathe. There's been some awesome highlights (beautiful salmon lunch at Christmas party venue) and some lowlights which I won't bore you with.

So something happened yesterday. Anyone who has ever lived in a small town with...well...considerate human beings has probably had something similar happen to them. Coming from a city however, this just blew me away.

So we were looking for a hot water urn for work. I had visions of these pretty stainless steel and black contraptions we had at my last workplace so off we went to look.

So total aside here...urns are effing UGLY! I mean seriously!

So when we see enormous urns for the princely sum of between $250 and $350 I nearly choked. Look, I don't have a problem spending that sort of money, but I have an aesthetic issue and simply refuse to spend it on something so fricken HIDEOUS. And we weren't looking for hot water to service the Taj Majal, so they were way too big anyway.

Anyhoo, so we traversed from store to store (culminating in me taking I think about 6 wrong turns and riding the company car up the gutter...ooops!) to find Betta Electrical in Toowoomba.

Once again their display urns were far too big but when asked for other options, they produced a pretty-as-you-can-get-for-an-ugly-urn smaller Russell Hobbs version. Issue was there was a tiny dent in one side so they had put in an insurance claim for it. We asked how much they'd charge for it and they said $50.

So we were pretty happy with that right? Considering the RRP was about $150 it was a total bargain.

But then the dude looked at the shirt my colleague was wearing and realised which company we worked for. Of course our immediate response was 'oh crap, has the price just gone up to $100?' but he simply pushed the box into our hands and told us that our money was no good here and just to mention them to our purchasing guys.

Uh what?

Walking out of the store we were alternately joking that we felt like we were stealing and then commenting that we should have found a dented laptop as well...

So I'm pretty blown away by this. Seriously has never happened before! Oh I've scored discounts and great deals and something thrown in for free with another purchase, but a gesture of goodwill to simply give us something was pretty bloody amazing.

Look I know they were getting their money back for it on insurance but as we would have been happy to pay for it that's not really the point.

I think I like the small-town life. Or small-city, or whatever the hell this is!

So another reason to be happy for my second favourite F word...

This weekend I get to visit my Brisbane gals and best of all, spend some quality time sinking icy cold Diet Coke on the Housewife's balcony. Hoping some red velvet cake pops are on the baking agenda today....hint hint.

Have a lovely F day all!!!

xx