Little Monsters Glitter Kitty Cupcakes and Cake Pops

Drool!

Check out Cathy's cake pops made for her son's Easter party at school. How good are these? Cake Pop Queen, indeed, I bow down...

Want! Want!

Survived, Intact

So 4 nights and 3 and a half days with two precocious pre-teen boys, and we have escaped unscathed.

Miracles happen!

I have just dropped Z off to his next set of caregivers complete with enough luggage to suggest he's running away permanently. I drove away with a tear in my eye and the biggest sense of relief, not in saying goodbye, but that we got through it without any blood on the carpet and best of all, the kids still actually LIKE each other.

I must have been born under a lucky star.

So for the past few days my unit has been turned into a fort of epic proportions utilising every sheet, towel, blanket and piece of furniture for its purposes, giving me a nostalgic trip down memory lane as I remember my sister and I doing the exact same thing when we were young. Although in the typical difference in the sexes, these enterprising boys also managed to incorporate technology into their designs with the use of items such as portable fans, ipod docks, a keyboard and even a DVD player as the cherry on top.

Ah, progress.

I also now empathise with my parents as the cleanup begins. Can I just put all the linens back in the cupboard or should I wash them? (and why are they called 'linens' when nothing is actually made of linen? Questions to ponder).

I've also been subjected to a number of 'personality tests' which contain questions such as:

'are you being forced to take this test?' - with the answer being 'yes, and I'm going to rip it up' and
'POO' - with the correct response being 'I'm going to kill you'.

Apparently I failed all of them miserably.

Looking forward to a nice relaxing Sunday afternoon now without having to keep one ear out to stop pre-teens from tearing each others limbs off.

xx

Counting my blessings...The Gratitude List, today's version

I felt a bit ridiculous writing my last (and first ever) gratitude list on this blog. It's really weird to know that other people may read and quite possibly ridicule my list but then I realised that I'm really just writing it for me and if it gives other people a laugh at the stupidity of others then I should feel grateful for that too.

So here goes:

• I'm grateful that we are now on day 3 of looking after E's mate and so far no carnage. Not even a skirmish. Gobsmacked, but very, very grateful.

• Who knew that when you complain when they give another guy your dinner order and you have to wait for it to be cooked (again) that they give you free stuff? Thanks pizza guys for the Magnums. You've taught me to stop being nice and to complain at every opportunity and for that I'm grateful. Life lesson indeed.

• I'm grateful to my amazing friends Cathy and Willow who have made this blog an absolute joy. Their letters to their teenage selves earlier this week were hilarious, poignant, nostalgic, sad and memorable all at the same time. What Willow said about making more girlfriends is so true - I wouldn't be half the person I am today without the strength, love and support of my girl group. I am the luckiest girl in the world to have these awesome women as my friends.

• Vampire Diaries online. Enough said.

• I have managed to skillfully avoid Miss I-Only-Stamp-Once this week thus ensuring that not only was I sufficiently caffeinated each day and her wellbeing maintained but I also received 2 free coffees from her fine fellow baristas who obviously like me far more than her. It's a win/win situation.

• I am grateful that I do not have to catch the Buz service from New Farm Park to the Valley every day. Travelling from the park after a work function was like walking into an alternate universe, one that smelled really, really bad.  My olafactory senses were overloaded. Getting off that bus was one of the best moments of my life. On a secondary note, a big shout out to my iphone and my new app crush Instagram which once again allowed me to avoid eye contact (although regrettably not smell-contact) during this interminable journey.

• I just read that Jason Segal, my celebrity crush, has been dating Michelle Williams for a few months and they're pretty serious. I honestly thought he'd end up with some lame plastic Hollywood chick so the fact that he's gone for someone who appears cool and level headed, not to mention a mum, gives me hope for the male species. And for that I'm grateful. A cultural milestone according to my male friend, although I suspect tongue may have been in cheek. Oh well.

• E and his mate made a tray of his signature kick-ass brownies each to take to school today for the last day of term....and left them behind. My taste buds thank them and are totally grateful (although the thighs won't be).

• Hooray for a 4 day work-week for the next fortnight. How can I not be grateful for that?

xx

Oh Instagram, how I love thee.

The trouble with Bob Marley

A Bob Marley classic popped into my random play this morning as I was walking to the bus stop. I was bopping along and singing the lyrics under my breath (well OK not under my breath but SOFTLY. Shut up its perfectly normal - isn't it?) and thoroughly enjoying myself until it hit me...

...the fundamental issue with all Bob Marley songs.

Ok what do you think of when you think of Bob? If you're anything like me it's probably a scene comprising a magnificent beach, crystal clear water and a lethal cocktail or 6 made of a rum and pineapple concoction served in a coconut shell. Lots of gorgeous dreadlocked men who call everyone 'mon'. And ok quite a bit of the funny green stuff.

There's something about Bob Marley music that instantly evokes these visuals and the emotions that go along with them. I guess that's why people are still listening to his music decades after his heyday.

But here's the problem, here I am meandering to the bus whilst imagining myself on a baking hot beach when the song finishes and I come out of my reverie to find myself walking through a day that's getting slightly cooler every morning, clutching my umbrella as we have an outdoor function this afternoon and EVERYONE knows that means its totally gonna piss down and be rained out.

I'm not being pessimistic, really. Our last 3 outdoor activities have been washed out so it's not rocket science to look at the grey clouds and heaviness to the air to know the way this winds blowing.

...but I digress...

So when I came out of my reverie I was pretty pissed at Bob. He transported me to another time and place and then cruelly dumped me back where I started facing down another day at work.

Not cool Bob, not cool.

Double Trouble

So as of tonight, I have a matched set of 11 year olds for a few days. Yes, they're multiplying!

I've gotten to know the mum of one of Elijah's mates over the last year. We've become friends whilst bonding over pool parties, theme parks and playdates, not to mention the issues of raising boys on our own...sometimes they're like an alien species.
I'd hazard a guess we're even better friends than the kids these days as in typical 11 year old fashion the kids completely get on each others nerves after prolonged periods together and snipe at each other like bitchy teenage girls or people who really, really hate each other. Frenemies. Taking them back to their respective homes is usually the only way to stop the drama, and by the time they see each other again they've generally forgotten all about it.

I knew my friend was having some family issues, and this is not easy when you live half a world away from them. So when she rang and asked me if I could look after Z so she could go home for a flying visit, it wasn't even a question.

But if I'm being brutally honest, I'm just the tiniest bit shaking in my boots. Just a little.

Let me preface this by saying when the boys are good, they are amazing! Seriously the most fun kids I know, we have had some awesome times together. It doesn't hurt that Z has been raised to respect other people's houses and things and will always (and I mean always) leave things exactly the way he found them. He's ridiculously intelligent and enjoys talking to adults just as much as his mates.

But history has shown us that prolonged exposure can be lethal...and this time there's no getting away from each other, particularly not in a 2 bedroom unit! Not to mention the different schedules they have in eating/showering/bedtime etc.

So these are my thoughts. As soon as Z arrives tonight, we all sit down and get the kids to determine the ground rules. Make sure his mum is there too so he's aware that she knows too.

Write down the rules and hang them up on the fridge.

Kids to sleep separately! Z can have E's bedroom so he has his own space, can shut the door and get away from things.

Each kid to have their own signal which means ENOUGH! Each other kid to respect it (cause that's gonna happen).

Failing that, I'm borrowing Cathy's valium.

xx

What would you tell your 16 year old self?

I read recently that there was a trending topic, whatever that is, on Twitter, something along the lines of people writing letters to their 16 year old selves.


As a before-mentioned Twitter noob, I will take the article's word for it but it got me intrigued. If I could communicate with my teenage self, what would I say?


It seemed timely to take a nostalgic walk down memory lane on Cathy’s birthday and take the opportunity to slap our young selves silly and tell us to wake up to ourselves issue some much needed advice.


So here goes!

Cathy's letter to herself:

Hey, 16 yr old me,

Today is our birthday! It has been 23 yrs since i was where you are right now.
If i remember correctly you will have put your GnR Lies tape on first thing this morning as you will have wanted to hear Patience as soon as you woke up.

So, let me begin by saying "you're awesome!" My face breaks into a smile when I think of your ballsyness! You say what you want ( generally to your detriment) wear what you want, be friends with whoever you want and you keep refusing to conform even though your conservative private school is riding you like Seabiscuit to do so.

By the way, you think right now that you hate that school, but you don't. You love it. It provides you with life long gifts. That terror-fying, intimidating old woman who runs the place, isn't that old or terror-fying, and actually thinks you rock and will tell you so before you leave.
And those teachers that you think hate you? Well, some actually do hate you, but the others are simply trying to motivate your lazy arse and get you to take advantage of all that is being offered to you. I urge you to do so....but you won't. Don't sweat it....

While ur there, look around at the crazy gals ur surrounded by, most will be friends for life and over time will prove to be some of the greatest friends you'll ever make.

So, its 1989 and ur frustrated with ur look. You've sprayed Sun In in your hair and ur bright yellow curls are out of control. Relax, by the end of the yr you'll have gone black and in a couple more years you'll learn how to straighten it. Black will save you, it is the colour that will be synonymous with you for the next 20yrs. The dark hair brings a new paleness to your skin and you will begin to see yourself more clearly.

Yeehar, you're about to start running with a bad crowd! Those nice boys you've been hanging with at the Paddo and at partys are about to be traded in for black jeans and goth clubs. Yep, those stove pipe, chuck taylor wearing, long haired, car jed, total babes that you've eyeing off for months are somehow gonna let you infiltrate their tight knit, northside rockstar gang. To this day those guys and gals are the coolest bunch of people you have ever met. If you can bottle the charisma that swirls around the rumpus room of a certain house on Albany Ck Rd and sell it, you will be a rich woman.

Enjoy your family! Even though you're not really sure where you fit in, and the fact that you've got 3 over achieving, sporty, scholarship winning older siblings isn't helping....but they all have extrememly varied and excellent music collections and your brother, John has just started playing guitar and wearing flannos. All these things will benefit you in the future. You and he will start a band in about 9 yrs and you will kick ass!

Your parents are two of the greatest role models you will ever have. They are in the middle of the Pilots dispute which is about to play its part in the Australian recession thats about to hit. They are passionate to their cause and loyal to their mates. This is currently baffling to you at the moment but passion and loyalty will be something you take from this for the rest of your life. Your conservative parents are actually quite Punk Rock. Embrace them, especially ur precious,outgoing, problem solving, rock star Dad. He is gonna suffer a severe stroke in about 7 yrs and you will never hear his voice again.

Enjoy this time of innocence. Nothing bad has ever happened to you....yet.
I wish i could prepare you for some of the sadness that lies ahead.

You will lose some of your cool new crowd to heroin. Hard for you to believe considering "Go Ask Alice" is a book you've read 10 times and has aptly scared the shit out of you re: drugs.

You will lose a best friend to cancer when your 23.

You're first true love will break your heart and you will worry that it will never mend ( it will!)

Some of your best friends will betray you.

You will become a young single mother and be afraid you can't do it. You can, in fact you kick ass at it!

You will marry a gorgeous man and be the mother of 2 of the greatest children ever born.

You, my friend, have a such a full on future ahead that I should finally stop here and let you be surprised by the rest...

Love life like you do, but most importantly, love yourself!

Whats that?? Yeah, yeah...GnR Forever!!

Enjoy the ride, Blondie!

love,

you.

Ps Oh, and that guy you idolise and tell everyone you meet that you're in love with? This will come as very exciting news to you right now and is probably the only thing you want to know about right now...yes, you will spend alot of time with him in your future and yes, you will sleep with him. I don't want to ruin it for you but, just don't get your hopes up in that department if you catch my drift. Sometimes fantasies are much better than realities...I'm just saying......

Bec's letter to herself:

Dear Angsty One,

Firstly Miss Drama Queen, I want to give you a big hug and tell you it's going to be OK. And for God’s sake, RELAX. Breathe. You know that stupid transcendental meditation course you took? That you couldn't stop giggling through because it was just the most ridiculous experience and let's face it, that guy was just plain weird? Well, USE IT. I beg of you. I promise you it won't come close to being the stupidest thing you do in your life.

What I really want to tell you is to stop being afraid of just being you. Your fear of saying what you're really thinking in case people laugh at you or think you're really uncool stops you from being yourself and saying what you want to say. You're so afraid your friends won't like you if they find out what you're really like that you've let shyness rule your life because of it. And that's the opposite of cool. Plus it's really, really boring.

Here's the funny thing: when you're older you're only going to regret the things you didn't say or do, not the things you did. And something else to consider - in 20 years you'll still be gossiping with those exact same awesome rockstar girls you're having lunch with under the stairs. And this time they know the best of you and the worst of you (ugh flashback to the awful song you're going to be forced to sing at graduation). And guess what? They like you, OK?

Stand up for yourself. Someone recently said it's hard to respect someone when you see someone else disrepecting them and they put up with it. No-one is going to fight your battles for you and those that can't see your awesomeness really aren't worth it anyway. So there's a few girls who don't like you...and instead of letting them make your life hell why not step back and ask yourself - do you like them? Because if the answer is no, then who cares what they think? And once again, in 20 years they have absolutely NO impact on your life, so care factor = zero. The ones that do matter will still be around, take a good look at your gang and see if you can work out who. This same advice applies to the woman from Mask who bullies you into wearing the singularly most ugly strapless taffeta dress in front of your WHOLE SCHOOL in the fashion parade next year.

Stop trying to be so cool. Funnily enough, the more comfortable you get in your own skin and the less you care, the cooler other people think you are. Funny that. Just do your thing and get on with it.

Once in a while, crack a text book. Laugh if you must but one day you'll be surrounded by and even working for ex-geeks who spent their formative years stuck in their studies and now they're having the last laugh…at your expense.

Stop being a selfish arse. The world doesn’t revolve around you, although you’ll try spend many a year trying to prove that it does. Be nicer to your family. They might not always be around. Value the time with your mother, you don't have as much time as you think and you're gonna miss her like hell when she's gone. Remember how lucky you are to have such an amazing supportive family who won't even blink an eye when you announce you're pregnant and going to raise a baby on your own. In fact, they make up the spare room. You may not have the most conventional family tree and you may sometimes think they're out to get you but ultimately they're just trying to protect and teach you. You'll get yours when you have your own child.

Say no to perms.

And although your experience in subterfuge and contrary nature does actually help you be a great troubleshooter in your career, it is also going to get you into trouble. With a capital T. Most of it will be with Cathy and will be awesome, but trouble nonetheless.

And for God’s sake, anyone who wears size 7 jeans IS NOT FAT. The years spent walking around with your hands in your pockets to cover your ‘enormous’ thighs? Total waste. One day your thighs will be enormous so enjoy them now. Just follow your mum’s advice of always letting your boobs be bigger than your stomach and it will all be fine.

Lastly, stop letting the angst and drama consume what will be the best years of your life. Put on your eyeliner and your crazy clothes and own them. Enjoy the ride, grab hold of Cathy’s hand, close your eyes and jump off that cliff…it’s worth it I promise.

Love, Me xx


P.P.S. Talk to the cute guy from the train. He actually did like you, it wasn't a bet but he thinks you're not interested cause you won't speak to him
P.P.S. in 20 years you'll be watching your school video with your friends and yelling at the screen at the brief glimpses of you with your hand over your face. Suck it up princess and own the camera - the future you wants a better look at how awesome you look
P.P.S. seriously, reconsider the taffeta fashion parade dress. And perhaps crack a smile on the catwalk, you don't look cool, you just look really bored

Willow's letter to herself:

Hey there weirdo,

Let me just give you a hug firstly, I know this will make you mildly uncomfortable as you are so intent on showing everyone how tough you are but me being you and you being me knows now that all that toughness was a front. Its okay to let people see you are not made of stronger stuff than you are, its okay to be a little bit marshmallow occasionally.

Right now you are going through the hardest time and as you sitting here at 36 knows, that in the last 20 years since you turned 16 you have still not endured anything as scary or tough as what you are going through now.

As we know 2 months before your 16th birthday you went to a park and took some drugs that caused you intense hallucinations such as that you were dying, the thing that we also know is that 2 months later you are still experiencing those same hallucinations. In about one month you will finally tell a local doctor who will refer you to a psychiatrist and you will be started on some anti psychotic medicine. What I wish I could tell you as you are sititng in your room right now is that you will be okay, I know it doesn't feel like this now but you will, in about 8 months from now you will be able to stop the medication and will be able to stop sleeping in the bathtub.

As a girl attempting to go to high school, attempting to live your life and fighting the urge every second of every day not to jump off a bridge let me tell you that I admire you. You have shown amazing courage and determination to live by not ending your life, by taking yourself to the library and reading about evolution to try and get through the psychosis of feeling like a puppet.

You will meet someone very special during this year, a school nurse who the school has brought in to meet you every day to see how you are. She will bring you yoghurt, fruit and sit and listen to you tell her that you are losing your mind and respect you enough not to reply back that you were not as she knew in a that you already had. You will love this person for the rest of your life and have contact with her now and again for always.

I know this whole year is really about fighting the psychosis and doesn't seem like there is much more than this but looking back I can tell you the following things:

Treasure every part of your parents. I know it was immensely embarassing when your friends were over and found your Dad out on the balcony in a towel singing Right said Fred ' Im too sexy ' but thats who he is. He is the man who installed in you a love of all things old Hollywood and this love affair will continue through your life. He is a man who cries every year on the anniversary of John Lennons death. He is a man who will become a single father at the age of 54 when he accidently gets a 21 year old pregnant who does not want a baby. As for your Mum, I know you don't think so now but there will come a time when you will count her as your very best friend in the world and you will have the urge to ring her several times a day just to talk about bleach, or mince or your family. She is the most amazing woman you will every know and you will be so proud of her in every way. You will however still be mildly pissed at her that she gave you big boobs, bunions and an insane urge to cry at every sad ad that comes on tv.

You will always hate men with muscles.

You will meet an amazing man who will ask you to marry him 6 hours after you meet, everyone will think you are crazy but you know it is the best and easiest decision you have ever or will ever make. He and you will bring 3 beautiful babies into the world so treasure your sleep now because in a few years you will just not get any. By the way this man is not a rock star and as sad as this thought may make you at 16 be assured that at 36 he will be every bit as wonderful as any rock star you have been dreaming of (well let's be honest there is only one rock star for you at the moment and never let anyone question your loyalty because 20 years later he is still the only rock star that would of ever stood a chance).

Make some more girl friends . I know you have always preferred hanging out with the boys and you have made some amazing boy friends who you treasure but there will come a time when those boys will grow up and get girlfriends who will attempt a smile at you that doesn't quite meet the eyes and you will need some girl friends. Lucky for you though you will sit here at 36 with a few amazing women who will love you and encourage you, some will be family, some will be work colleagues, one will be someone you had a punch up on the very first day you met, one will be a long lost friend from when you were 16, some will be in their 50's, 80's and one will even be someone you have never met. The world is much more richer with valuable girlfriends by your side.

Stop reading suicide poetry. It does no-one any good.

Start eating meat again. You will get sick soon and will be told to start eating meat again so if we could start this now that would be great.

Stop trying so very hard to be different. Every person is already unique and has their own story to tell. What you will learn is you are no better than anyone else and you are certainly no worse than everyone else, we are all just trying to live our lives the best way we can. Scratch this for rapists, murderers and child molestors.
On a lighter note, later on in the year 2 embarassing things will happen to you. First one being that you will be drinking one night at a bar in the city and will miss your last bus home. Lucky for you as you are walking down the mall you come across an old school friend who you havent seen in about 4 years and he will offer you a lift home with his mother as long as you promise not to vomit in his mothers car. You say 'sure I'm good, I don't need to vomit ' . You will however step into that car and immediately start hurling every way you can including most unfortunately all over the mothers head. You will then proceed to fall out of the car at your home and land face first into more vomit. This is not your finest moment so please don't miss that last bus home and stop drinking cheap alcohol hidden in big McDonalds cups.

Secondly you will develop an eye for attempting to wear as little as possible, most nights being a petticoat and ripped stockings. Please, please make sure that seeing as you are already half naked ensure that the straps of your petticoats are secure because unfortunately there will be a public nudity incident when you are running down the mall in your petticoat, stockings and doc marten boots when you realise mid run that your petticoat is no longer on you but down on you and you are starkers in the Brisbane city mall.

I will now leave you my love and tell you to enjoy every moment you have between now and then as life is a beautiful thing and should be enjoyed.

For my last advice to you I will tell you one thing. Please for the love of all do not tell anyone that you hallucinated that you were a chicken leg, this does not go down well with anyone you share this with, even the psychiatrist is a little shocked and think of all that this person has heard in her career.

Thats it weirdo . xo

Happy birthday Cathy!

It's been a long time since we were the poster children for the dangers of underage drinking but somehow we've made it to our 39th year, more or less with sanity intact, although dignity was shown the door some time ago.


Without you I wouldn't have done half the crazy things we have, nor gotten in nearly as much trouble...but it's hard to regret a moment (except perhaps that unfortunate perm phase).


Have a amazing day, my past, present and future evil partner in crime!

Reality check

So I've been feeling crappy all day. Woke up late (damn you snooze button) after a sleep deprived weekend dealing with friend drama (don't ask...really), got ready at a lightning pace which was obvious every time I had the misfortune to look in a mirror and snapped at my poor son for no real reason except for I was feeling...well...crappy.

Oh and did I mention it's Monday?

Luckily it's been a crazy busy day which together with the iPod headphones helped a lot. But I was still stuck in my woe-is-me un-happy place where nothing short of George Clooney presenting me with a diamond ring and a bazillion dollars was gonna fix. You know the one.

And then came the phone call from a friend who is truly dealing with a heartbreaking situation beyond her control (and yet somehow not losing it...)

Reality check. Big time.

So I've given myself a stern talking to and have now snapped out of bitch persona...STAT.

Why does it sometimes take a terrible situation to shed some perspective on the trivialities we build up into mountains and the minor things we carry on with as if the world was about to end?

Must be time to re-count my blessings, methinks. And stop sweating the small stuff*.

*does not include getting annoyed by yellow/red scarf girl, snooze button issues or obsessing over whether Daniel died on Revenge. This is not a complete list.


xx

Monday

Ugh.

That is all.

Today's best Photostudio efforts

Nothing keeps a kid amused longer than an Ipad and taking silly photos of themselves....

Oopsie.

So in what can only be described as a rather major faux pas, instead of the Kazakhstan national anthem, the medallist for the Shooting Championship got to listen to Borat's rather...ehm...creative version instead.

Can you imagine having to stand there straight faced. I guess at least they have clean prostitutes.

Kazakhstan greatest country in the world.
All other countries are run by little girls.
Kazakhstan number one exporter of potassium.
Other countries have inferior potassium.

Kazakhstan home of Tinshein swimming pool.
It’s length thirty meter and width six meter.
Filtration system a marvel to behold.
It remove 80 percent of human solid waste.

Kazakhstan, Kazakhstan you very nice place.
From Plains of Tarashek to Northern fence of Jewtown.
Kazakhstan friend of all except Uzbekistan.
They very nosey people with bone in their brain.

Kazakhstan industry best in world.
We invented toffee and trouser belt.
Kazakhstan’s prostitutes cleanest in the region.
Except of course for Turkmenistan’s.

Kazakhstan, Kazakhstan you very nice place.
From Plains of Tarashek to Norther fence of Jewtown.

Come grasp the mighty penis of our leader.
From junction with the testes to tip of its face!


http://www.news.com.au/entertainment/movies/get-it/story-e6frfmvr-1226308813355

Is it wrong to bribe your kids?

I've touched on this briefly, however a continuous theme on my son's report cards is "extremely bright, lacks motivation".  We had a few years of self confidence and maturity issues and perhaps I was somewhat lax in my attention to his schoolwork in lieu of trying to build up his self esteem.  My thinking was if your child is confident and comfortable in their own skin, everything else falls into place. Well the self esteem is now great, the bullying is a thing of the past...success right?

So it was a bit of a shock to realise at the end of grade 6 that I was advised if my son's schooling 'habits' continued on in the same vein that he could really struggle in high school. Teachers were frustrated with him because he was obviously really intelligent but just couldn't be arsed doing the work. Hard to grade a kid when he finishes practically none of it.

Over the Christmas break we did a lot of talking and I decided to take an alternative tack. Punishments didn't work, withholding dessert didn't work, so instead I decided on bribery.

Yes, bribery.

$10 for every A, payable upon receipt of report card every six months.

His grandparents caught wind and decided to double the offer, so now there is $20 per A.

Some people when hearing of my bribe have been horrified that I would be offering monetary compensation for good marks. And I totally get it.

I stole the idea from a former boss who was bribing encouraging her children to be better achievers by offering them $100 per A for years 11 and 12. When she told me I must admit I thought it was really, really wrong. But as she explained to me, straight A's continuously over 2 years paid every six months = $2,000. Maximum. And if her kids graduated with those kind of marks, their future was wide open. Not a bad investment for $2,000.

When you say it like that it makes total sense!

I decided I would use the same tactics in high school, but never imagined I'd have to use it this early on...

Anyway the outcome of this is for the first time Elijah is taking a genuine interest and pride in his work. He's motivated and happy and keeps bragging that he's one of the top of the class for this or that...

So I'm completely happy with my decision to openly bribe for good marks. E's now on track to get at least a few A's, and mentions at least once a week that he's got his eye on the prize...yes he means prize literally as $20 to an almost-12 year old still seems like a fortune.

What's your take on bribing your kids? Do you think I'm going to hell in a handbasket or if it works, why not?

xx

Thursday

So I write this sitting on the bus after literally 9 minutes of getting-ready time. Sorry work people, I did the best I could.

Clutching my travel mug held out to me by # 1 son as I raced out the door (without asking! Collective AWWW) I am starting to feel the effect that only the precious elixir caffeine can give.



So it's been a fantastic week for me with lots in the pipeline and some exciting future plans that are now so close I can almost touch them. I'm not exactly the most patient person (UNDERSTATEMENT) so in some ways the waiting is the worst but I can't wait to talk about it! Stay tuned.

So let The Hunger Games begin! Today is the day and I'm beyond excited. Not that I've bought tickets yet but it's nice to know that I COULD. I never said I was logical, ok? Like right now my brain is telling me to pretend to be badass Katniss today...well without all the killing of people and rebellion against the powers that be...that would be inappropriate.

May the odds be EVER in your favor today.

Xx

Life is good when you wear a blue heart...

Yes I feel real.

Love it when the first selection of the day on your 'random play' is this...

Happy Wednesday!

P.S. May have to rename yellow scarf girl red scarf girl...she's throwing me off my game and I don't like it.

We are the people our parents warned us about

A few years ago my workplace asked us to come up with a quotation that we thought represented us. I can't exactly remember most of them but we had a blast coming up with our own and then reading everyone else's.

I have a particular love of witty quotes and clever turns of phrase which got me thinking once again about my favourite quotes. Here's my particular favourites, what are yours?

"The trouble with reality is there's no background music"

"Never argue with an idiot. He will drag you down to his level and then beat you with experience"

"A clear conscience is usually a sign of a bad memory"

"Never underestimate the sheer stupidity of smart people in large groups"

 "A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort"


"There are three kinds of people: The ones who learn by reading. The ones who learn by observation. And the rest of them who have to touch the fire to learn it's hot"

and finally...

"Children seldom misquote you. In fact, they usually repeat word-for-word what you shouldn't have said"

The Hunger Games

Ah happy Monday! What a difference it makes to have more than 20 minutes to get ready. Feeling awake and alert and sufficiently caffeinated and even yellow scarf girl has defied the odds with a red scarf today. Wow. Almost anticlimactic.


It really is a red letter day.


So let's talk Hunger Games. I'll admit to being a diehard Twihard, I've devoured the books cover to cover at least three times and have been known to start sentences with "OMG I feel like a dirty old woman perving on a teenager but Jacob! The pecs!"


In the spirit of complete honesty however, that the movies thus far have pretty much sucked. And when this comes from someone prepared to overlook and forgive anything Edward related, you know this means they totally sucked. It pains me to say it but translating to the big screen = epic fail. And it's mystifying as the cast is perfect, they've nailed locations and script but somehow when all put together it really, really bites (no pun intended). It's like they've just Twi-ied too hard. Yes, oh dear.


So when I heard another of my favorites, The Hunger Games, was announced as being the next victim candidate for the big screen I was naturally sceptical. Ok here's another series dear to my heart about to be butchered adapted, that I will still defend, go and see and worse...BUY THE DVD. All of them.

It had promise. Bloodthirsty enough for the guys (teen-on-teen killing, anyone?), romantic enough for the girls and thought-provoking enough for the intellectuals. But then so did Twilight...


And then they started releasing set photos and snippets from the movie and slowly I have gotten ridiculously excited and hopeful that this time, just maybe, they got it right. Hey stranger things have happened, yeah?


I even spent the weekend devouring the books for the second time. And ok I'll admit it, scouring the Internet for all critiques, trailers, interviews...anything THG related that I could lay my sad little hands on.


And they're raving. Well ok due to the embargo on the press they're not allowed to release their entire reviews yet BUT they are allowed to post on Twitter and Tweet they did!


Now I'm a complete Twitter noob, I joined and sat there looking at it for a bit, reading what other people were having for breakfast and I just couldn't get with the program (by the way I actually DID write above what I've packed for breakfast but have now deleted in the interest of not being a complete hypocrite). And if the universe expected us to be able to confine our thoughts to 150 characters or less (I don't know if that's true actually, I just made it up) then they wouldn't have invented blogs. And who needs another outlet to drunk-rant on? I have Facebook for that and at least thats just my friends who will laugh at me for a day or two and not imminent public humiliation due to re-Tweeting or hashtags or whatever the heck they're called.


And really, if it's called Twitter why is it a Tweet? Shouldn't it be a Twit? Or is that just the name of the user?


Anyway I've been heavily reliant on gossip sites to compile THG feedback so it is second hand info but even so it's hard not to imitate a pre-teen with Bieber-fever when you read things like this:

Empire - Olly Richards: as thrilling and smart as it is terrifying. There have been a number of big-gun literary series brought to screen over the past decade. This slays them all.

The Guardian - Xan Brooks: The Hunger Games is that rarest of beasts: a Hollywood action blockbuster that is smart, taut and knotty. Ably filleted from the Suzanne Collinns bestseller, it's a compelling, lightly satirical tale.

Total Film - Matthew Leyland: What's remarkable is the lack of cheese. Tacky effects, corny dialogue and creaky performances are all shown the door. We repeat: not the new "Twilight".

This is made more impressive by the fact that most critics were ready to slay the film purely based on the fact it has been nicknamed "the new Twilight".

So forgive me if I'm getting a little giddy at the prospect of getting to see Katniss et al on the big screen. Already I'm trying to tee up with fellow blogger Willow to get to the screening STAT. The fact this means a 4 hour round-trip to another town just to ensure I see this with her is no matter and well worth it in my opinion. We've had a long-standing steady date to see all the Twilight movies together, however due to circumstances and the fact that she moved to Nowheresville, NSW for Breaking Dawn Part I we haven't managed this for a few years so am very much looking forward to THG with her now that she's back in civilization.

Are you going to see THG? I'll let you know my thoughts when I've seen it, I really hope it lives up to the hype.

xx

St Patricks Day

Saturday

The weekend has kicked off in wonderful fashion despite the horrible weather in Brisbane today - muggy and overcast one minute and cold and pouring with rain the next.

So today I ventured further afield than I've been in a while to Boronia Heights, which I must admit I'd never even heard of prior to this morning. Iphone maps to the rescue...I seriously don't know how I lived without this app, likely I would still be driving aimlessly around outback NSW from a trip there about a year ago...

Anyway thanks to the map app and only a wrong turn or two, I finally got to catch up with my old friend and meet her gorgeous little man who is just 10 weeks old. It's so nice to actually be able to be genuine when goo-ing over someone else's baby, as let's be brutally honest, most have faces only their mothers could love. So it was with some relief that I could sigh over his adorable-ness without a hint of falsitude. Thanks for a wonderful day of gossip and catching up xx

Make sure you read Willow's first blog entry. As Cathy has so aptly termed it, Willow is another of our 'loud mouth biatch' posse to join the blog. She has been entertaining me for years on Facebook, and is a beautiful mix of honesty, hilarity, snark and warmth. Can't wait for her contributions here. Personally on the way home from Boronia Heights this afternoon the words "jerkwad" and "asshat" were uttered in response to nearly being run off the road so I'm really feeling her. Must say that "fucktard" blows my choices out of the water and I'm thinking I might have a new favourite to add to the repetoire.

 I know I say this a lot, but I truly am blessed to have such wonderful people in my life. We've had such a fun week collaborating over our blog and I look forward to doing future business with these lovely ladies.

Words

Trying to work out how many words the average person knows is always going to be impossible but thanks to a little research I have come across the following:

An estimate of how many English language words the average person knows is typically in the area of 12,000 - 20,000 words, depending on the education that the person has achieved.

Researchers argue that while the average person may know somewhere between 12000- 20000 words most people only use between 2000- 5000 words in their normal vocabulary with some reaching to 10000 but this is at a stretch.

Shakespeare actively used more than 30,000 words in his written works, and his entire vocabularly has been estimated at approximately 66,000 words ( smartass).

They estimate a new word is created every 98 minutes.

While I am sure this is all very informative and has you no doubt riveted I started this post with only one word in mind ... Fucktard. As a preteen and teenager it was my job to take what I would assume was about 8000 of my known words at that age and increase it to the 12000 national average by learning as many derogatory names as I could. I ask you now to sit down and try to remember all the name calling you have done in your life and you will be surprised as to how many there actually are.

Let me start you off with some of mine: slimeball , dick, dickhead, dickface , shit , shithead , piker, turnip, loudmouth , vain , douche, scumbag , pussy, tool , wanker , princess , rambo, prick, asshole , buttface.It really is easy once you get started isn't it.

I am not condoning verbal abuse in any way , we all know that words hurt , what I am merely trying to do is to state the obvious and that is that the number one comeback for any derogatory slant directed at you is the word, fucktard . I am ashamed (not really) to say that I have had to resort to this high standard word in my past and I have always felt that it has been I who has come out the clear champion and lets face it when two grown ups are name calling each other it is a battle and there can only be one winner and if I have been called any of the names such as the ones listed above then damn straight I want that victor to be me, no guts no glory.

I leave you with this magic word , perhaps you have already used it, perhaps you are saying it now, perhaps you are now tucking it away amongst all the other 11999 words you have in you but there is something about this word you need to know, firing this baby at your opponent will no doubt crush them so discretion must be used when directing at a boss (unless you are quitting then go ahead my friend) or your elders and must never ever be used at a child.

Willow (not her real name) is an afficionado of all things music, movie legends of yesteryear and pop culture. She has recently also discovered that she just might be psychic, as she can always accurately predict which window they're going to go through on Playschool. When she's not waving at her kids from her house across the road from their school she can be found trawling the net for articles to entertain her friends, dreaming of Sylvester Stallone or corresponding with her celebrity crush Benji Madden on Twitter. Oh and feeding her Twihard addiction.

Strange addictions

Update: comments in response to my post: "you'll be hearing from my lawyers" and "he's acquired more cars and now I'm the proud owner of a Cuisinart brushed stainless steel stick blender". My response to the threatening lawsuit is simple: if you can get blood out of this stone, then you're a cleverer person than I. That is all.

A real friend is one that loves you not despite your quirks, but because of them. I shudder to think how many eccentricities I must have as the large majority of my friends have their own little strange addictions that are, whilst amusing and often endearing, ultimately perplexing.

Take a male friend of mine. He has his stash hidden all around his house. His partner often finds bags of the stuff in obscure places. She's taken to shaming him on Facebook to try to get him to stop. She's threatened an intervention. He says he can stop anytime. Completely in denial.

No it's not drugs, it isn't porn, its....

MATCHBOX CARS.

Yes, matchbox cars. Loads of the things. He could open a shop.

He claims they're for his son, but this doesn't explain why they're hidden around the house in places Billy couldn't hope to reach, and that a surprisingly large amount are still in their packaging.

To keep the peace and to divert attention, my friend feeds his partner's addiction instead. Her's? Well she is obsessed with KITCHEN PORN. Her obsession being so great that in response to her partner's purchase of a juicer, she was quoted as saying "It's better than any diamond ring! It's so shiny and beautiful (sniff)".

Ooookaaay.

At least her addiction is less shameful and understandable, and ultimately useful. Having been lucky enough to sample the wares from her pride and joy, the Kitchenaid, I can agree that whilst I'm relatively undomesticated and completely uninterested in making my own pasta, I can covet an ice cream maker with the best of them and spend time in the stores drooling with glazed eyes over the selection of incredible, shiny appliances that promise to deliver a dish worthy of any Masterchef contestant without any effort on my part.

So her addiction is somewhat relatable.

He on the other hand...Matchbox Anonymous....STAT.

What are your addictions?

"The Stash"

TGIF just doesn't seem to cover it

When I was younger I anxiously awaited Fridays and the further into the afternoon it got, the more revved up I became about the night ahead.

You know you're getting older when Fridays become more about crawling towards an imaginary finish line so you can race the hell out of work to get home to your son and catch up on your re-reading of the Hunger Games trilogy. And you actually look forward to it (and OMG that movie looks FABULOUS).

This week has been tougher than most, likely due to my ever-increasing love of the snooze button which has left me with approximately 10 minutes or less to make myself presentable enough for people not to run away screaming and haul it to the bus stop. Even amusing myself by guessing if yellow scarf girl would actually change her tune on any given day didn't cut it (she didn't. Every. Damn. Day.) It's taken about 3 cups of coffee just to wake up this week (fortunately Miss I-Only-Stamp-Once has been noticeably absent the past few days so no homocide has been necessary - unless that's the reason for her absence???).

So I am happier than normal for Friday evening to roll around. The whole weekend stretching ahead with some awesome plans to visit an old, old friend that I haven't seen since I left Cairns in 1997. I am really looking forward to introducing my son to her and meeting her baby boy for the first time.  Hoping I'll also have the chance to catch up with a few others who I've been sadly neglecting lately. Sometimes life just goes a little crazy and suddenly a month or two goes by and you realise you've not been in touch with the people you really care about.

Make sure you read my friend Cathy's post on the horror of finding rental properties in Brisbane these days. Personally I've gone through this hell more than once and it really is ridiculous when those of us who earn a reasonable income suddenly can't seem to afford to live in our own city anymore.

To introduce Cathy - I first saw this girl with a flat top (!) in my French class in Grade 9. She made an immediate impression, let's just say she was no wallflower! In Grade 10 I was transferred to her class and to wax lyrical (thank you Michael for the apt term), a lifelong friendship was born. I'd say we both led each other astray and it's just a wonder that we didn't get into more trouble than we did! And now more than 20 years later she's still the funniest, warmest and most awesome person I've ever met. Hopefully we'll be trading insults and dirty jokes from our wheelchairs in another 40 years. So lucky to have a friend like you in my life xxx

Cathy's rant of the day

Please, pass the valium before I go postal on somebodys arse.....sorry...its just, i am currently searching for a house in what seems to have become a suddenly outrageous and competitve Innercity Brisbane rental market and I have reached breaking point..

Now, I am a Brissy gal, born and bred and have been renting Innercity since 1995 and I have always lived in awesome pads in great locations for piss all rent, but for the first time I am struggling to find something for us thats under $650 a week!! I mean, geeez, thats a lot right!? And even the expensive ones are, to quote my 8 yr old son "complete crap holes", yet still have 600 people rushing to fill in applications, even though you need a degree in astro physics just to get through PART A of your national security clearance and ASIO identification check.

My first Innercity place when I was 21 cost $165 a week and all the references I needed was that I had $100 bond, a tv that worked and my own bong. It was right in the heart of the action of Paddo and was noisy, dirty and awesome!

Although, thinking about it, I shared that house with 3 smelly skaterboys and slept in a small sleepout which I had somehow managed to squeeze my queen size waterbed into (try lugging one of them from share house to share house, it's not easy....but cool) that had a curtain as a door. It was just me, my bed, my clothes and my dreams. Not too difficult to house I guess.

Don't get me reminiscing of the first place that my all mine...my Red Hill granny flat in 1998 that was a two bedroom home with a huge deck that overlooked an innercity rain forest. It was my Punk Rock Single Mother Paradise. Just me and my adorable 1 yr old son, Seven, oh and a deck full of girls, smoking cigarettes, drinking red wine and giving me my Girl Power, all for $155 a week including utilities. We lived there for 3yrs and the rent never increased!

Hmmmmm...reading back on this I guess 17 yrs have passed since that first place and I have aquired alot of stuff to be housed since then: one husband, 2 children, 1 siberian husky, 2 cats, 3 cars (one a hot pink 1973 beetle that needs a garage) huge furniture and lots of other crazy crap. Alot to house.....

So as I sit here waiting to hear if we beat out all the other applicants for the 4 bed, 2 bath, fenced for the dog, with a pool and a built in playground in the leafy backyard, opposite the park in a safe, quiet street in Bardon near my sons school, I wonder if the Innercity rental market really has changed...or doh!...is it me???

I blame the children.

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.

The Out Tray Debacle

I got back from lunch and someone has swapped my clear plastic out tray for a black one. It doesn't match the in tray.

So I have decided to do without an out tray entirely. People laughed. Even the one who has to alphabetise and colour code all of her computer files.

This is completely normal, right?

Wednesday

Update: wow, it's awesome when your child gets an interested and proactive teacher who actually does his own homework! Thoroughly impressed and happy to see that he actually 'gets' Elijah - this doesn't happen often enough sadly. My child dances to the beat of his own drum and this is something I actively encourage but it presents it's own set of problems with teachers just not understanding him and putting him in the 'too hard' basket. Incredibly bright but hard to motivate...story of his life :)

Slight improvement today, only pressed snooze a handful of times, up at 5:53am, out the door into the pouring rain at 6:12am. And darling son made me a coffee in my travel mug even if he was rather strategically coughing and grabbing his throat rather theatrically at every opportunity. Hmmm.


Coincidentally I have a parent/teacher interview this afternoon... As a veteran of sitting in front of teachers and even principals listening to them announce 'so bright, just doesn't try' we finally seem to have worked out a method of motivating him (more on that later). And judging by recent enthusiasm it seems to be working so I can't help but hope I might hear something different this afternoon!


Wish me luck.


P.S. yellow scarf girl is at it again. Every. Damn. Day.
P.P.S. 4 stamps on the coffee card, bless

Apparently writing gratitude lists makes you a better person

So I keep hearing about gratitude journals and apparently listing the things that you are grateful for make you...er...well, grateful.

And here I've lived all these years just BEING grateful and just now find out I've been doing it wrong. So in the spirit of doing things by the book, here goes:

Bec's Gratitude List

 My amazing son Elijah who is the light of my life. And because you make double choc brownies that kick ass. And you'd kill me if I left you off the list.

My dear friend just let me know her entire family except her has it coming out both ends and she is the designated cleanup girl. So I'm really, REALLY grateful not to be her right now. 

I realised the other day that most of my closest friends have known me since I was 15. We've gone through tears, tantrums, angst, drama and really bad hair together...and that was just last Saturday night. Yet we have loved each other through thick and thin (and these days unfortunately more thick than thin). You make me laugh, you listen to my crap and we can spend hours talking about nothing in particular. No girl could have better friends...and I'm not just saying that because you're holding all my embarrassing secrets to ransom.

 My sanity. Oh wait...

My Kindle. Now people think I'm really intellectual and can't tell that I'm really reading trashy chick lit. Win/win.

Apple. A life without my iPhone, iPad et al is no life at all. Now I never have to look out a window or indeed have to talk to a stranger as everyone knows its rude to interrupt people when they're pretending to be engrossed in their phone. Bless you Steve Jobs. As god is my witness, I'll never be bored again. You made an app for that and I'm totally grateful.

My ability to laugh at myself. Thank God.

There. Now I feel much more grateful. And like a much better person.  Totally.

Things that annoy me - today's version

The snooze button: apparently while unconscious I like to push the snooze button on my alarm clock....a lot.  And it's getting worse. Alarm is set for 5:35am. This morning I became conscious for the first time at 6:04am. Out the door by 6:16am and on the bus by 6:22am. This includes shower/hair/makeup routine. Feeling fabulous. NOT.

People who wear their hair the same every day: there's a young girl on my bus who has worn her hair in a topknot for the last 2 years. Every. Damn. Day. I was excited when about 3 weeks ago she got her hair cut quite short. Except ever since then she's worn a distinctive yellow and white striped scarf tied around her head. Every. Damn. Day. I'm leaving the old lady with the long gray plait (every.damn.day.) alone because she might not know any better but aren't young people supposed to like experimenting with their hair? It's just not right.

The girl at the coffee shop who only stamps my buy-10-get-one-free card once: yes you know who you are. Whilst all of your fellow baristas are quite generous with the stamping (2, 3, 4 or 5 times, thank you very much) you very decidedly stamp my card exactly once. I get that you're just following the rules but your behaviour will likely get you lynched by a caffeine deprived lunatic one day.  Not me of course. Probably.

People who 'text speak' out loud: I recently witnessed a conversation between two adults who really should have known better peppered with various bits of text speak, and finishing with TTYL. I'm not completely out of touch, I have been known to rotfl and lol with the best of them and I secretly listen to teenagers pretending to be so cool and giggling to myself, but text speak is exactly that...TEXT speak. Say it out loud and seriously, TTYN.

Quote of the day

I play by the book, but make my own notes in the margins.

I'm not old, damn you.

So I’ve held the same job for 7 years with a really young team and always enjoyed my status as the surrogate ‘older sister’ of the group.  You know, the somewhat kooky confidante who gives great advice that everyone wished they had, like that weird but cool chick from Pretty In Pink that cut up her gorgeous retro prom dress into that 80s monstrosity that Molly Ringwald ended up wearing and everyone pretended was really nice. Seriously? The lace inserts! The cut-out sleeves! Oh the horror!

Not that I would do that.

But I digress…

So that’s my role. I happily go about my business thinking this is the status quo. Until this zinger the other day:

‘It’s awesome, you’re like the mum of our group’.

WTF?

Look I know consciously that I’m on the wrong side of 35 (ok, almost 39) and that technically makes me old enough to have been a (very, very, extremely young) mother to some of the team.

But a mother figure? I’m COOL dammit.

Aren’t I?

It’s like when my oldest and dearest friend Cathy’s eldest said ‘I dreamt last night that I was out clubbing with you and your friends back when you were cool’.

What do you mean, BACK when we were cool? I keep up with technology, I have an awesome personal style, I’m still hot! I know what WTF and FML mean. I have an Ipad dammit!

Then I re-read my opening paragraph and realised that I referenced a coming-of-age 80s movie, and not even one that stands the test of time with any dignity whatsoever. I scrolled through my playlist and realised that a large proportion of my most played songs date back to my heyday of the 80s and 90s. I remember a time when Michael Douglas was hot. I catch myself saying things like ‘I remember when everyone didn’t have a computer’ and feel compelled to go up to teenage boys with the HAIR and the baggy pants and the swagger and ask them ‘how’s that look working out for you?’.

And OK, I’m secretly correcting your grammar in my head.

Then my dad turned 65, and applied for a pensioner discount movie card.  And my stepmother informed me that I am now older than she was when she met my dad. My immediate response was ‘but you were so….’

‘Old? Is that the word you were looking for?’ she said.

‘Um….err….ah…no! I was thinking, grown up’ I quickly said.

And that’s the thing, I don’t feel grown up. My memory of first meeting my stepmother is that she lived and acted like a grown up, and despite the job, the bill paying, raising my 11 year old son (excuse me, 11 ½ year old son) I still feel like one of those weird John Hughes movies (here I go with the 80s references again) where the kid suddenly gets the parents body.  My initial rebellious reaction to do the opposite of what I’m told hasn’t changed one iota. I am still, if not even more, obsessed with pop culture and CW TV shows with the demographic of half my age. I still believe in true love and fairies at the bottom of the garden. Richard Gere will climb my fire escape and rescue me, even if I’m not a prostitute. I still make wishes to the universe and am astounded when they don’t come true. I will be winning the lottery tonight. Yep, my rose coloured glasses are still firmly in place.

And you know what? That’s quite OK by me. I realised that it’s all just perception – if someone wants to think of me as a mum figure, then fine. One of the benefits of getting older is gaining the confidence to just BE, and I realise I like who I am, whether it’s big sister/mum/crazy person, whatever. At the end of the day, I’m the main one who has to live with me so does others’ perceptions really matter that much?

And just like an 80s movie, I have decided no.

John Waters would be proud.

So this is what a blog is!

I've always had an opinion on pretty much everything and anything, and am a pop-culture nerd from way back who spends far too much time reading nonsense on the internet and feeling compelled to respond. As one of my (male, of course) friends put it:

"The most worrisome aspect I believe is the amount of mental bandwidth devoted to analysing the issue by otherwise intelligent and discriminating people?" when commenting on one of my Facebook posts relating to Angelina's weird Oscar pose.

Clearly he just doesn't get it. But apparently I'm intelligent, AND discriminating so I guess that's a plus.

My secret ambition has always been to write a book, or be a journalist or something like that. The problem with both of these is that I'm lazy. And I've been told I have the attention span of a gnat. Ten pages in and I've lost interest, or can't be assed fact checking everything to make sure I don't get sued.

And then something wonderful happened - the internet! Who cares if it's factual as long as it's entertaining, right? And somewhere along the line people then decided what they had for breakfast was must-tell information.

Indeed.

So clearly a blog is the most perfect vehicle for me to express my (many) opinions whilst still maintaining my lazy habits. Somewhere along the line the world has changed to fit me, how awesome is that.

So there you are. I can't recall the purpose of this first blog post due to my short attention span as noted above. But if you haven't fallen asleep yet then please feel free to follow along as I ramble about whatever is on my mind today.

At the very least I'll just entertain myself.

Bec