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July 27, 2005

I asked the waitress why it was called 'Eight Glory Duck' soup, and she said that it was merely how the translation panned out. Which sucked. I was totally gee'd up to throw it back at them and yell "There are only FIVE Glory Ducks in this soup! FIVE!!! YOU CHEAP BASTARDS!!!"

Overheard at the next table at our Chinese restaurant last night:

Nondescript Male: "...so, are they very expensive?"
WASPy Blonde Sow: "They can be. I paid 750 apiece for my bitches!"

At this point I threw my hands up in that gesture of solidarity shared between us middle-class white suburban Canberra women and yelled "Fo Shizzle, mah negraah sistah!" loudly and proudly.

Actually no.

But I did snort and splutter into my Eight Glory Duck soup.

...................................................

Incidentally, it turned out she was talking about pedigree labradors.

(Damn)

09:23 AM | Comments (0)


July 26, 2005

Incorrect variations on my name that have occurred in emails during the correspondence of a single day:

Theresa

Therese

Terese

Terersa

Terasa

Therresa (...the hell? Am I suddenly Scottish? Do you need to rrrroll yourrr 'rrr's?)

and Glenn.

None of these are right. Sadly, one of them was even from me. I'm not saying which one either.

True story: Many moons ago, I sat for an English exam - the final one for my final year of uni in fact. When I received it back, I was delighted to see a nice big 'D' for Distinction, but baffled at the big red circle and '?' around the name bar.

And 'Tersa'.

I'd spelled my own damn name wrong.

Forgot the second 'e'.

In an English exam.

The big one.

My own name.

Final year.

Good gravy.

How I manage to do a bra up every morning without accidentally hanging myself, I'll never know.

.............................................

UPDATE: I just got a 'Theresea'. Sweet baby jesus - tell me that's not a real name. Sounds like a latin name for a prehistoric continent.

04:36 PM | Comments (7)


July 25, 2005

Hello? Lo? Lo? O? o? o ....

*tap tap*

This thing working?

It is?

GREAT!

TRY THE VEAL!

I LOVE THIS CROWWW-WD!

Yeah. I know. The bloggin' fervour has been drained from my veins in recent times. I've ended relationships and started a new job (same company, different area) and travelled a fair bit. All sorts of zany shit has been happening. Maaaan, the stories I could tell...

And every time I sit down to write about it, any desire to do so simply oozes out of my pores and runs down the side of my leg.

Graphic, yes, yet still strangely apt.

I guess I've just had more important things to worry about lately. This new job, with its gucci 12 month contract, is going to be one of the more difficult things that I've ever done. Which is a good thing though. Of course. I keep chanting that to myself in an attempt to believe the insanity of it all.

And I've had some pretty screwed up personal shite happening as well.

Sometimes I feel like Dorothy, wading through the Big Bad Woods, just before a badly made-up Bert Lahr descends from on high and makes that weird "wwwwhuuuuffFFF" noise that he does so well.

Hackers and Stalkers and Nutjobs, Oh My!

(And as I'm typing this on my PC, the back light on my loyal little laptop (purring away next to me) just blew out. Fuck's sake).

But yes. My email got hacked, my domain got hacked, and the world is full of miserable crunts who have literally made me snap my tooth from grinding it so much.

Congratulations, you miserable fuckwits. Mission accomplished. Enjoy what you've got coming to you.

So unfortunately for the general public, my predilection towards spinning out witty little anecdotes on my wacky little website has been somewhat...lacking.

And I make no apologies for that.

I refuse to write ANYTHING about my job, because a) one of my work colleagues knows about it, and b) I ain't that fucking dumb any more.

And the on-again, off-again moody male-induced sex-obsessed relationship-shy angst - while extremely fascinating to write about, and god I could do some brilliant posts on the topic - well, the bottom line is that people who like reading my blog don't actually like being written about in my blog.

Go figure.

I've literally got about 20 posts sitting in draft. Fully written, beautiful, funny. I like them.

And yet, every time I go to publish them, I get cold feet and find myself making excuses not to.

I have blogging performance anxiety.

(Just. Can't. Get. Hard)

Now that my work schedule is a bit more sane and I won't be travelling quite as much, I dare say I'll be posting a bit more.

If I still have any readers, says she, shouting into the abyss.

Sigh.

02:52 PM | Comments (4)