The Best Post I Have Written...

...is not up today because I am taking Thanksgiving off. Next week is looking good though...

Happy Thanksgiving

I wanted to write a post but then this happened.

I can't be expected to type with my thumb practically ripped off.

Happy Turkey Day. Ow.

Happy Thanksgiving...To Me

Thanksgiving Thoughts and Reflections:

1. The year I hosted Thanksgiving and made poached fish for dinner - I now see the error of my ways and am very sorry
2. The year I volunteered. I showed up with my two massive containers of mac n' cheese and full of virtuous, righteous do-gooding. After I dropped my food off in the kitchen to be added to plates and packaged up as a dinner for one, ready to be distributed around the city, I got in line to be assigned my volunteer duties. Two hours later - still in line, still volunteering but effectively only volunteering to stand in a line. Effectively not very effective. Finally, I get called to a car with 3 others, we load up with the plated food and are told to drive to where we think there are homeless people looking for a Thanksgiving meal. Being new to LA, I suggested a spot in Portland. I was ignored* So the ringleader and driver headed for her favorite homeless spot. Apparently they went home. Not a single person in sight. At which point we resorted to Google and headed for Skid Row in Downtown LA. Finally getting into the swing of things, we hand out meals with only 2 thrown at us by someone who wasn't very hungry. Empty of all our plates we head back to base camp with just a couple of things. Two homeless puppies and their homeless fleas and some mashed potato in one of the girls hair. Not mine though so don't worry.
3. The year I slept through Thanksgiving - was about to write a description of what happened and realized this happened. I slept through Thanksgiving.
4. How to make a scaled down Thanksgiving dinner for one. Dennys.
5. The year I ran the Turkey Trot - this is a hellish idea that has to be done early on Thanksgiving morning so that you can justify eating your face off later. The Portland Turkey Trot ends up at the Zoo and you run the last part through it, with Lions and Tigers jogging along beside you in their cages. The turkey's don't run with you in their cages. Because they are dead. And about to be eaten. So it's a very mistakenly named fun run. (A) the turkey's are not trotting and (B) therefore not having fun. They are just dead.
6. The food that shouldn't be eaten on Thanksgiving - Canned anything. Tofurky**
7. The football games I didn't watch on Thanksgiving. All of them. Ever.
8. Giving thanks - let's celebrate the harvest. Which occurred several months earlier as we are now in the middle of winter. Fail.
9. In response to a query: No, I will not be going home to New Zealand for Thanksgiving.
10. Apparently every year the president issues a proclamation, to"pardon" a turkey, which spares the bird's life and ensures that it will spend the duration of its life roaming freely on farmland. The rest of us massage our birds with butter and then eat them***. 
11. The year I named my turkey - Neville. Actually this happens every year now. Taking suggestions for next year as this year I will be roasting Gustav's left leg.
12. If I have a whole pumpkin pie, how many slices will you get? None. My pie.
13. Thanksgiving advice - don't cook fried turkey in the nude.
14. Things I am thankful for:

• Gustav 

 

Rose are Red, Violets are blue, Thanksgiving poems are very difficult and I haven't quite mastered it yet.

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

*Which I don't think was really in the Thanksgiving spirit.
**Despite the previous comment in where it appears I am on the side of the turkey, I will still eat their dead bodies rather than have turkey formed out of tofu. My only exception to this rule is turkey formed out of cake.
***However, the pardoned birds don't have a very good track record and it seems they now use an alternate.  In 2010, Obama pardoned Apple, and alternate bird Cider. Both had died of natural causes by Thanksgiving. In 2012, Obama pardoned a 45-pound turkey named Liberty and an alternate bird named Peace. Peace survived until shortly before Thanksgiving 2012, when he was euthanized.  There is no record of why Peace had to be euthanized.  Which I find very suspicious and suspect that the Secret Service were involved.  If you are reading this, Secret Service people, I'll have you know that you will never find me as I am a master of disguise and do all kinds of clever computer stuff that I can't quite remember right now to put you off the trail.  Also I am Australian.

Sometimes I...

• Add something to my list of things to do that I've already done so I can cross it off and feel accomplished. Sometimes that's the whole list and then I sit down and relax whilst congratulating myself for excelling.
• Don't get dressed
• Curse and swear at other drivers. Actually not sometimes...
• Am very, very good. But mostly not.
• Have an extra cup of tea in the morning. Don't hate
• Eat cake. Also, not sometimes...
• Have a good hair day. Last November
• Sing out loud. And then I get shushed.
• Think I can dance. But then I can't
• Soothe myself with wine. Called cake.
• Talk to my cat. But it's ok because he talks back.How embarrassing would it be, if he ignored me?
• Count Mini Cooper's on the drive to work. But not obsessively. Because I don't do it on weekends. Because it doesn't count if it's not the same route.
• Don't make my bed. But I always wash the dishes.
• Wish I knew more about Physics so I could invent a portal and go home for the weekend. I've got the Marketing Plan ready to go, I'm just missing the science.
• Think about getting up but then I don't
• Think about ironing clothes before I actually need to wear them. And then I decide to wear something else.
• Have nowhere to go when I look really good.  Which then reverses when I have somewhere to go.
• Hate beautiful people even though Pantene told me not to. 
• Think I am mutton dressed as lamb
• Pretend I am going to get up and workout before work. 
• Put workout clothes on and walk all the way to the couch
• Think I look good in hats. And then I put one on...
• Want to go camping. But just for one night, then hotel.
• Want to run away, travel, live off the land and have no cares and responsibilities but then I remember my retirement savings plan doesn't allow for that.  And by retirement savings plan, I mean the lottery. And then I remember that I don't buy tickets.

Never Leave Your Ford Laser Unattended

Because if you do, it will get broken into. Ten times. America, your people might kill more than ours but we will rob you blind first. The first time was not long after I bought the car. As I mentioned, I got it from a boy racer who had invested in the latest stereo system. It was one of those that you could pull out and take with you when you left the car so that no one would steal it. So, every time I got out of the car, I would pull it out and put it under the driver's seat. Where all the criminals knew it was kept. So, they would smash my little quarter glass, reach under the seat and take it. They would also take a selection of my cassette tapes - I lost the Dirty Dancing Soundtrack tragically in the first wave. I find it offensive that they left some behind. You don't steal my stuff AND question my taste.

So, the insurance company and I would replace it. I went through two of those. With additional cassette casualties - James Reyne,* Living Colour, Terence Trent D'Arby. Mints. Various items of clothing. They did however leave my sunglasses. So now, they are calling into question my music taste and my fashion sense. I am being victimized from all directions.

Round two was the stereo with the detachable face. You just took the face off and put it in your handbag. Or under the seat. Apparently they knew about that one too. So after two of those, I finally learned my lesson and stopped putting things of value under the seat. Also, I moved to another city to evade the criminals. Who came with me. So, now they would just break into the car and look around at the complete emptiness of the interior. Apparently they needed to be in the car to determine this, they couldn't just look through the window. By now, the locks on both the passenger and driver sides were completely buggered so I carried a hammer in my glove box. When I had to get in the car, I would wiggle the lock three times and climb in through the passenger side. Then I could use the claw part of the hammer to lift the lock up on the driver side so I could exit with some dignity. After my dignified exit, I would then pound the lock down with the hammer, throw it in the car and walk off with a dignified air.

Eventually Dad got sick of me having to replace the quarter glass window so he replaced it with perspex. Take that criminals, now see if you can break my window and steal my stuff. So, they just took the whole car instead. Problem solved. Take that Special K and Special Dad. It wasn't just any old thief that finally took the car. It was a thief recently out of prison with a broken leg in a full cast. I was working in a bank in Auckland at the time when a customer came running in to ask if anyone owned a red Ford hatchback. Someone had just been seen smashing the window and driving off in it, with the police in hot pursuit.

After he hit a wall, he got out and climbed over it. Apparently forgetting his broken leg. Which hampered him at the bottom on the other side. Which is where the police found him.

*Who here hasn't sung along to James Reyne? Slave, One More River, She Don't Like That. Good job, Australia

An Angry Post...

Dear Parking Nazi Person - sorry I don't know what your actual official title is so is it ok if I call you Parking F*&^%er? I'm so glad I was able to help you reach your quota this morning when you gave me a ticket for being parked on the street during street cleaning hours.

Because they're resealing all the roads around us, there was no where else for me to park so I was keeping an eye out so I could run out and drive around the block when the cleaner arrived. Instead, you arrived. And wouldn't let me move it, even though the cleaner wasn't even there yet. Because apparently you had already started the "process".

So, I am starting a new "process" and putting you on a payment plan. I will pay $5 every paycheck (every 2 weeks). Also I will stop wishing you harm because I am being the bigger person. Still the angrier person but definitely bigger because you were tiny.
When I tried to explain the situation to you, you agreed that it sucked. However you did not agree with me when I said you sucked. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Probably when you gave me a ticket. I thought about giving you a ticket. For the following:  

• Double parking your official Parking F*&%er car to give me a ticket
• Being unreasonable
• Being unswayed by a woman's tears - what kind of animal are you?*
• Not asking how Albert is doing
• Having an ugly uniform, that was a bit tight
• Being a bad driver - you had a boo boo on your car which means either someone give you a special ticket in the form of a dent or you are a bad driver. From the way you were printing the ticket, I could see you were a bad driver

But then I realized, all I had was a bit of paper, no fancy ticket writing machine and no uniform. So my ticket didn't carry a lot of weight. So, now I'm thinking of starting a new business - pre-printed citations for people who are being arses. First one is all yours. 

Sincerely,

Special K - I will not pay!**

PS. Where are you after 8pm when you let anybody park on my restricted parking street?  I wish I had your email address, I would send you emails every night.  With all the license plates of the offenders.  That might be nice, no?

*I didn't really cry, it was angry rage water. I did however, stomp and slam my front door. Which was ruined by the fact that he had already driven off.
**Well I will but what I wanted to write didn't rhyme and I'm not allowed to curse...

Cars - And On To The Next!

So I bought my first car. All by myself. A Ford Laser Sport Hatchback, 1984, I think. In bright red. With my student loan money which is probably illegal but since my year was the first year of student loans, there were no rules! And now we all still owe the government a lot of money. Except me, I just paid mine off. Goodbye retirement.

Anyway, let’s back off from the bitterness. I bought the car from a boy racer who met me at a petrol station for the exchange. I know there was paperwork involved, we both signed a napkin stating that I was buying the car for $5,000* and he was selling it and he’d left the ownership papers in the glovebox. Sort of how we do our taxes in New Zealand. Just write down on a bit of paper what you think you earned and owe and drop it off to the IRD when you feel like it. None of this, taxes must be done and posted to the IRS by April 15th or you will be killed, business.

This was a boy racer, who apparently didn’t realize that a hatchback is not really a boy racing kind of car but maybe he didn’t know because the Fast and the Furious hadn’t come out yet. And I wasn’t going to tell him, I was too busy worrying about how negotiating absolutely nothing out of the deal would be impacted by giving him comments like that. So, I ended up with a car that had Tweeters in the front** and in the back, 4 sub woofers bolted into the piece that is supposed to lift up when you open the hatch but no longer did.  Meaning you could hardly slide anything into the boot (trunk) and had to go in through the back seats. I knew nothing about woofing and tweeting, I just knew my car had a heartbeat all of its own and people would turn and look when I drove along. Which is not my thing at all but I really had no clue on how to control the bass. 

So, now I have my brand new car - only problem is I'm on the other side of town and I need to drive it home.  And it's a manual (stick shift***).  And I've never driven one before.  Can't be that hard.  I know when the engine starts to roar, you're supposed to change gears.  I did not know about that pedally thing you're supposed to push down at the same time as you move the sticky thing.  Picked that up real fast.  Did not entirely master the moving smoothly through the gears piece.  Not until 4 years later.  I sweated a lot on that drive home.  Mostly on a hill where I sat at the lights for 4 rounds with people tooting (beeping) at me, me revving the engine and trying to make it go forward and up but just going a lot of backward and down. In the end, I put on my hazard lights, took a time out and cried while the cars drove round me and gave me the finger (flipped me the bird).  Eventually, I took a running leap at the hill and was up and over.  Got back to my flat (apartment) and the car stayed in the driveway for 3 days.  I was traumatised (traumatized).

But, I got back on the horse**** and figured it out.  There was a lot of riding the clutch but that would become someone else's problem later on.

Did I mention that it had these sporty spotlights?  For a while.  Sometimes when you are driving in the rain and you are stopped at the lights, your foot will slip and you will be in gear and the car will hop forward into the next car.  And then one of your lights will face down.  And the wires will fall out.  And there will be a person waiting at the bus stop, yelling "I saw it.  I'll be a witness". And you can't drive over him because he is intellectually disabled and just trying to be a good citizen*****.

This car would actually be the bane of my life, through no fault of it's own.  But wait, there's more.  Just not today.

*I actually think this is what I paid for it which means I paid way too much, I don’t even think I negotiated at all. Which is why I now work as a negotiator and only ever use the word “no”.
**I keep wanting to write Twitters which now seems a much more common word than Tweeters. And I don’t really ever twitter my tweets much.
***I had no idea how much translating from New Zealand to American was involved when talking about cars.  Apologies to my South Korean and Malaysian readers (up to 23 - what?).  All I know is - bbo bbo and kentang.  Neither of which has anything to do with cars unless your are kissing a potato in one.
****Which was good that I had a horse since I didn't want to drive my car.
*****But you want to.  Just a little bit.

Dear etc

Dear Victoria's Secret Saleswomen - why are there so many of you? Why do all of you have to ask me if I need help? I didn't need help from the first one, so I'm unlikely to need help from the 5th. Why are there more of you than bras? Also, I have been wearing underwear for a very long time, I know what I need. And for the record, when you measured me, you got it wrong. I am size perfect.

Dear Other Drivers - You suck. Portlanders, you don't know how to drive in the sun and Los Angelians, you don't know how to drive in the rain. I however am a perfect driver.

Dear Trader Joe's - Why don't you have as many free samples as Whole Foods? Now I have to go to both of you.

Dear Wine - Ow.

Dear Albert - Run the vacuum around now and again, will you?

Dear Neighbors - Get out of my parking spot(s).

Dear Abs - Where are you?

Dear Wrinkles - No one likes you, go away.

Dear Morning People - I don't like morning. Or people.

Dear Math - What in the hell?

Dear Adulthood - Getting real sick of responsibilities and shit.

Dear Cake - Hi.

Dear Holiday Cookie Swap - I just swapped you for cocktails.

Dear Today - If it requires getting dressed, it's not happening.

Dear Universal Remote Control - You do not control the universe.

Dear Facebook - I don't really need you.  

Dear Friends - I'd love to hang out but I have to sit in my house by myself.

Dear Secret Boyfriend - If I make you breakfast in bed, all I need is a simple thank you, none of this how did you get in the house crap...

Dear Lightbulbs in My House - Just because one of you goes out, doesn't mean the rest of you have to.

Dear two-kid families - You don't need the mini-van yet.  Just get a sedan.

Dear Character Building Life Events - I have enough character now thanks.

Cars - Specifically, My First One

I was thinking the other day about the cars I have owned, which wasn't hard since there have only been three. The first was a hand me down from my parents - a Datsun 240k in a shade of something that I can't even describe. Bluey-purple. Actually, turns out I can describe it. This is the car we grew up with and in its hey day was considered something of a sports car. It was only two door - which is why I will always have four doors - and you could wind the windows down in the front and back without any barrier between the two which meant playing "Dukes of Hazzard" and sliding in and out without opening the doors was a piece of cake. There were hardly any accidents doing this.

It had sheepskin seat covers, a tape deck and was like driving a tank - no power steering so turning a corner meant you had to put your back into it. This is the car I learned to change a tire on and learned that showing your friends how fast you can reverse down a street does not end well when other cars are parked in your path. And are collector item Triumphs that have just been remodeled. So, you make your best friend come in to help explain to your parents, with the help of diagrams and re-enactments, just how such a mistake could happen when you merely reversed out a driveway.

The rule was, you got this car for your last year of high school so once my brother finished, we shared it. Which worked well since we went to the same University. I recall driving off for my third year, packed to the gills, playing "Born to be wild" as we headed out. I'm just now realizing how not cool this sounds.

Eventually I got tired of sharing and bought my own car which is another episode in itself. My brother resumed full responsibility for the Datsun and there it met its demise. Every time I would get in the car, something would fall off. Pull the sun visor down, pick it up off your lap and hold it yourself to shield your eyes. Attempt to wind the window down,* get the handle out of the glove box. Please put it back when you're done, I was directed. Then there was the  incident while stopped at a traffic light - out of the corner of his eye, something rolled on by. Called his hub cap. A recon mission later that night recovered it and it was put back in its rightful place. The back seat. Eventually he decided to travel so the car had to be sold, also there were no longer any windscreens made for it so seemed the right time to get out. A collector bought it and even paid money.

Long live the Datsun!

College Basketball

This weekend I went with a friend to a college basketball game. It was my first time in Fullerton at Cal State University and the teams playing were the team in white and the other one. There's a lot going on so it's very easy to forget this detail. I think they had Burgundy and Gold on because I remember thinking I look better in those colors than white.

It's important to know a few things when you're watching. Make sure you're very clear on which team you should be cheering for as the supporters around you will not have their "Welcome to America, Kirsten" faces on if you get it wrong. Also, there is no alcohol at college games - this is a terrible idea and they would make a lot more money if there was a bar in the gym, next to the court. I was able to make quite a nice amount selling shots out of my flask. Rest assured, I checked everyone's ID first and if they seemed nice, could pronounce my name correctly and had the cash, they got the shot.*

We had an "in" with the coach so we sat in the seating for special people section. Along with everyone else. I really didn't know where to look - watch the game, watch the cheerleaders, watch the dance crew, sing along with the band (who did a nice Journey song), or read my kindle. At first I didn't understand why there were two groups of what I thought were cheerleaders until it was pointed out that one was a dance troupe. They sit at opposite ends of the court and occasionally during time-outs do a combined routine but I'm pretty sure that the rest of the time they plot evil revenge against each other. The cheerleaders have quite demure outfits from the waist up with sweater-like tops and a large "F" in the middle**, however from the waist down, they are merely wearing a small waistband as the skirt has fallen off. I was most fascinated with the way they did their hair - had a big bump at the back with a ribbon attached to it. I'm told that the bump is matted hair. So, that's nice. They had blue pom poms, smile a lot and the littlest one gets chucked around in the air.  "Flying" is apparently the correct technical term. They made eye contact with us so we felt obliged to clap and smile back every time they did a move in front of us. One time, I wanted to give the thumbs down because it was a bit shit.

The dancers do not have matted hair bumps because they need to fling their hair around. A lot. They also get to have three outfit changes and go from slutty to tracksuits to slutty again. No wonder the cheerleaders dislike them. They smile a lot too but did not make eye contact which leads me to think they are a fickle bunch. They do a lot of pirouettes when a goal*** is scored.  Cheerleaders do high kicks.  I am undecided as to which I prefer and would like to propose some sort of dive roll, high kick combination.

But back to the game, or more aptly, the water, towel and stool boys. I wondered if this was a prerequisite for getting on the team. Kind of like an internship where you progress up the ranks and eventually get to play. But no. This is as far as your dream will go. You get to fill up the water bottles and pass them out, give out towels, receive sweaty towels and when a time out is called, you must grab a number of small folding stools and run as fast as you can to the court, open them up for the players to sit on before the 30 second timeout is over and done with. Several times I observed a complete breakdown and stool chaos ensued. There was one helper that really should look at a different field***.

The team mascot for the Titans is an elephant. Ten points for anyone who knows why. I thought I'd come up with it as no one there knew the answer but after Googling it, I find I'm completely wrong. Although my theory is better. And they should go with that.

Net result - we won. See how I have now become "we" at this school I did not attend or have any ties to. I like to be on the winning side. Also the coach looked a lot smarter in his suit than the opposing coach who wore a polo shirt. I mean, who does he think he is? 

*This actually didn't happen. Which is a shame because I think it's brilliant.
**Naturally with my last name starting with "F", I assume this was a tribute to me and I want one.
***I know it's a "Basket", I just want to see how many comments I get correcting me.I will use it for statistical analysis as to the number of (a) people reading and (b) people reading who are basketball fans.
****Sporting pun not intended. Except for a little bit.

Differences between America and New Zealand - Part 1*

• TV shows - we grew up with two channels. So we didn't get all the American shows, there's only so much you can fit on two channels and home grown, Australian and UK were lined up first. So, when Americans quote lines from shows or sing theme songs, I look blankly at them**. Someone at work laughed at my cardigan the other day and said I looked like Mr Rogers. I laughed and laughed. I don't know who that is. I don't think it's good.
• You have those paper things to put on the toilet seat. We squat. New Zealanders have very strong thighs. I feel like we missed this boat on this one. You win, America.
• Light switches - you push them down to turn them on. We push them up. You are wrong.
• You say y'all. We say it properly.***
• Received an email from a colleague yesterday who wanted to know if I was available to discuss a project. When I responded and said I was tied up, I got the following email: "WHAT??? Are you ok?"****
• We drive on the right side of the road. You do not.
• When I tell you I'm going to call in, I mean I'm stopping by so don't be acting all surprised when I show up while you're waiting for my phone call.
• If we invite you to an event and ask you to "bring a plate". Don't bring an empty plate. We're not poor, we have more than one plate, we just want you to put some food on it to share.
• Our power voltage will kick yours in the arse (no, not ass)
• Our policemen don't carry guns. They just ask you very politely to stop committing that crime. This has varying degrees of effectiveness. Sometimes they have to ask twice.
• When you go through our airports, the sniffer dogs aren't looking for drugs. They're looking for fruit. I realize that sounds ridiculous.

Our economy depends on keeping agricultural pests out of our environment.  Our cops may not carry guns but you will be shot if you bring an orange in.*****

• We use the metric system.  As does the rest of the world.
• When I ask you to put the jug on, I mean, for the love of god, make me a cup of tea. Gumboot, please.******
• We put sweaters on our penguins. I'm not saying we're more caring...just that your penguins are freezing.

Gratuitous cute animal shot in shameful attempt to gain more readers...

You have the Army, Navy, Marines and Airforce. We have this:

NZ Airforce

 

NZ Army

NZ Navy

But since you don't really know where we are, it's fine.

*Unless I can't think of any more, in which case, it's the end
**Not true - I pretend I know what they're talking about and fake sing along. Which is difficult.
***Just kidding. You know I love you, Texas. If you are offended by this, please let me know because I don't believe you're reading me. This is a test.
****Since he was clearly concerned, I put him out of his misery. " No, I'm tied up. Save me."
*****Not really but we will fleece you of $400
******Regular black tea

Nope - Got it Wrong

You know what this looks like? One of those Russian nesting dolls, right?

See - almost identical

Drew a face on it and could hardly tell the difference. 

Tried to unnest it. Nope. Wrong.

You know what this is?  Pecan Waffles.

The round objects in the back?  No clue.

Nope, wrong. Turns out you don't mix them in the batter, just throw them on top.  Courtesy of Waffle House, Louisville, KY. I originally asked for the chocolate chip ones.  They were out of chocolate chips.  I imagine they just throw them on top too.  Also, the waiter was making out with his girlfriend outside when we walked in. And then milk came out my nose.

Saw this picture, seemed easy, decided to make it.

Nope.  Wrong.

Thought this was real.

Nope.  Wrong. The apron threw me.

Thought this would be a walk in the park.

Nope, wrong.  Difficulty Level: Sky

Issues I Have With Exercise

1. My face. It does not do exercise well. Gets fiery red and as soon as I stop moving, the sweat pours out. Very unattractive. Reminds me of when I cry - I had a friend in high school who looked stunning after tears. Her eyes glistened and she glowed. My nose gets bigger and redder, any makeup immediately leaves my face. Inconsistently. Eyes get blotchy and I snivel. In short, as long as I am sitting completely still, doing nothing, I am a lot more attractive.
2. It is very tiring.
3. You are supposed to feel rewarded with the euphoria of endorphins racing through your system. Not chocolate.
4. Spinning. I understand that when on a road or racing bike, you want it to be as light as possible so everything, including the seat is minimal and weightless. Did you know that in a Spinning class, that bike is not going anywhere? You can ride as fast as you like, it will not move. Unless there is an unfortunate incident involving balance. If you are my friend, spinning next to me and you have one of these incidents, I will ride off into the sunset. That is to say, I will continue pedaling and pretend not to know you. Anyway, the point is, the bike doesn't need to be lightweight so for goodness sake, make the seat bigger. And pad it. Put a damn couch on there.
5. When I tell someone what I did for a workout, they compare it to theirs and I realize mine was a bit feeble and then I have to lie. Exercise makes me a liar. Which means exercise is bad.
6. It doesn't undo the damage of cake. Which I was promised. By exercise. The liar.
7. When you stop exercising for a while, your muscles will becoming flabby within 48 hours. It will take 48 days of obsessively working out to get them back*. Cake doesn't do this to you. If you stop eating it for a while and then eat it again, you will experience the euphoria of endorphins racing through your system.
8. You are supposed to do it and if you don't, exercise will make you feel guilty. Which was supposed to be one of the 7 deadly sins but someone lost count. Exercise = guilt = sin. Ergo, exercise is bad and you will go to hell if you do it. I need to stop immediately.
9. It looks bad if you walk into the class eating a doughnut. Which is very unfair to doughnuts. Who never hurt anyone.
10. Apparently if you still look cute at the end of your workout, you didn't try hard enough. I am not sure what it says if you didn't look cute at the start. Probably that you are forced to wear tight, form-fitting clothing so as not to get stuck in the Pilates reformer and your body is unhappy at the thought. Because it prefers a nice caftan.
11. The Pilates carriage on the reformer is out to get you.  Just keep one leg on the bar and slowly push the carriage out, the instructor says.  And then slowly bring it back in.  Back in?  This thing isn't going back in, it's going further and further out and my legs will never see each other again. 

*Science. By me.

Guest Post by Albert Nigel Finlayson

A day in the life of me. Albert. A cat.

3am: Day starts. Wake Mum up by howling outside her door. Will use ear piercing "help me, I'm in terrible pain/danger" scream to get her attention. Did not work - she has stone cold heart. Still don't know why I'm not allowed in to lie on white duvet. What's this round thing in the hallway? Will lie next to it on cold hard floor for a couple of hours until she wakes up.

3:02am: Still not awake. Meow softly in my outside voice.
3:06am: She's getting up. Yeah, lets get this day started!! Umm, that hit me*. False alarm. Turns out she is not ready to get up.
7:00am: Definitely getting up. Apparently not talking to me. Which is fine because I'm very tired after patrolling hallway all night and yowling at regular intervals. I need to lie down. Also, I put all your folded laundry from the table on the floor.
8:00am: She's leaving. So tired. Can hardly wave goodbye. Give her goodbye wink instead**

Not my best side

8:05am: What in the hell...?? Someone coughed two streets over, scared the crap out of me - going under couch.
8am - 4pm: Sleep under couch. Above couch is for when she is here and things are not so terrifying. Not that I'm scared, I just have business under here.
4pm: Get small snack. Attempt to take small snack over to water bowl. Fail.  Leave it all over floor. Not my job.  Clean self. Eat, clean, eat, clean. All very sanitary.
5pm: Wait with bated breath for her to get home.
5pm: Unable to hold breath any longer. Take short nap as excitement of her arrival has gotten too much

Roll to the left, roll to the left.  Dammit, went right

5:15pm: Rudely awakened by falling off couch. Warning: Don't get too comfortable, you will forget yourself and turn over and "over" will be empty space and you will not land on your feet as that is a myth started by dogs. Dirty dogs.
6pm: Hear key in lock - go behind couch just in case it's a ninja burglar with a key. No, it's her. Attach self directly behind Mum. Am allowed to go everywhere with her. Ok, not there. Or there either. Confined to couch which is now called "Everywhere".
6:30pm: She's sitting down to have her dinner, must mean she wants me to sit on lap next to plate of food. Not much room. Plate has to go. Push plate off. What the hell was that loud crash? Scared me. Thought about going under couch but am being brave. Will just check and see if I left anything there from last time. 
6:35pm: I would like a piece of that - thanks. Nope, didn't like it. Licked and left it over there. Bit soggy
6:48: Hi. 

7pm: Get up, stretch legs, do a lap around the house. Spontaneously shed in one spot. Think about going outside - jump up on kitchen counter, not sure why there are stools here when it's so much more awkward to go out the cat flap from the counter.
7:02pm: Bad idea. People out there. Do another lap of room - stare at things that aren't there and then jump in fright at nothing.
8:03pm: Got yelled at for being on the table. Responded with "you're not my real Mum!'
8:05pm: Made up

Is this comfortable for you too?

11pm - 2am: Patrol neighborhood. By looking out of tiny hole, under house. Got everything covered. Can leap to anyone's rescue immediately. But probably won't. Important not to interfere when there is a chance of getting hurt.
2:01am: Let me sing you a song called "there's no food in my damn bowl"

3am: Repeat

*Didn't really hit him, just lightly tapped him lovingly. With a shoe. He's being overly dramatic. No need to contact the SPCA.
**Lie - was not a wink, he just closed his eye and since the other one is missing, it's called going to sleep not winking.

Trying New Things

I admit to having some issues. Clothes color-coded in my wardrobe. Which is actually normal and very helpful. Separating out M&M's into their color groups which is also completely normal as it's very bad to mix the colors in your stomach. I think it causes tuberculosis.* I also like to match my outfit to my cat - this just makes good fashion sense, thankfully he's not a ginger tabby which would be much harder to match with.

On further reflection, it looks like I don't actually have any issues and am completely normal. Perfect, even.

But in the interests of becoming a better person**, I have a new plan***, every time I feel the need to indulge in any one of my issues, I have to go and do a handstand. Who was expecting that? I was just reminded about handstands in a recent yoga class where I was commended for my excellent form and ability. The instructor asked where I learned my skills - childhood and pole dancing class. He was not expecting that.  So, just as soon as I receive my life alert pendant, I will be solving all my problems with handstands.   Safety first. Although, if things go horribly wrong and while upside down, without my helmet, I land awkwardly, I will have much bigger issues to worry about. Win win, really.

Who's with me?

*Not yet verified. But I think most of you remember my struggle with Tuberculosis from earlier posts and I distinctly recall mixing up my M&M's and eating them right before I got hit with the disease.
**Which is hard when you've just pronounced yourself perfect
***Not my idea but claiming it as mine.  especially if it works.

Tips For Losing Weight*

Diet To-Do List

1. Create a To-Do Diet List.
2. Check off first item**
3. Set goal of losing 30lbs by January 1. Only have 40 to go.
4. Focus: Lie on the couch concentrating really hard about losing weight and eating cake. I think this will work
5. Set realistic goals: On the one hand, I need to lose weight. On the other hand, doughnut
6. Come up with weight loss plan: I'm going to lose weight. I'm going to exercise everyday. I'm going to go on a diet and stick to it...oh is that cake?
7. Clean out cupboards of all naughty food - throw in trash***
8. Cheat on boyfriend - not food****.
9. Attend social occasions and focus on people not snacks*****.
10. Borrow someone else's Weight Watchers points when a big event comes up
11. Hope for food poisoning - that's 5lbs right there
12. Take it slow - remember you didn't put the weight on in a day. On the other hand, how much have I lost since this morning?
13. Make small changes to see results e.g. eat a cupcake without sprinkles. Have a waffle without syrup. Unless you're having a cupcake and waffle for dessert - then it's fine.
14. Remember, no one is judging you on your weight because you're a good person******.
15. You are what you eat. Today I am a lentil.

*Not actual tips - if I had any that worked, I would be a lot thinner. This would be a lot more useful and we would all be miserable together.
**Congratulate self on completing two items on list. Reward self with nap. And small snack. Of 12 cupcakes 
***Retrieve from trash - no point in good food going to waste.  Start tomorrow.  Again.
****Don't have boyfriend - food it is. 
*****Those people look delicious. 
******All lies 

An Open Invitation To My House For Thanksgiving/Rugby

Dear all of my friends*,

As most of you don't know, NZ is playing Ireland on November 25th which is close enough to Thanksgiving for me to combine the two. Since it's being played in Dublin, it's probably at some horrific hour but there's that whole time difference thing which is like long division and who can understand that? I asked for them to play around 9amish but it seems I no longer have the power to (a) convince New Zealand to play at a time more convenient to me or (b) reverse the world's time zones. I'm like Harry Potter but without magic. Or a wand. Or an owl. Or a broomstick**. Or an invisible cloak. Actually, it turns out, I'm not like him at all. That was a poor example.
Normally, I would have come up with some fancy invite but I forgot that I'm not a graphic designer. So I got out my stick and dirt. Drew a cool invite with my stick in the dirt but I can't figure out how to get it on my computer. If you want to come over, can you come look at my dirt invite? I'm going to need you to RSVP in the dirt.

I will make a full Thanksgiving dinner, provide you with beer and wine and sophisticated party snacks. I will also be making and decorating little rugby ball cookies. But if you show up and there aren't any cookies, just know that in my head they were delicious.

This is what I want them to look like.

If I'm lucky, they'll look like this

So, I think that went well,

You might want to bring a cushion or a chair as I have a three seater couch. If only 2 people show up, we will be fine. A little awkward perhaps, sitting side by side, staring straight ahead. Also, don't touch my stuff.

Hope to see you***,

K

*Hi Mum.
**Actually I have a broomstick but when I command it to fly, it just falls limply to the ground. So we just sweep instead.
***Not true. Also I have changed my mind about doing this.

Great Invention Ideas I have Had

• This Blog
• Velcro Wall Wardrobe - this one's a winner. Pretty sure there's going to be rush on velcro after work tonight. Wallpaper a wall in your room with the prickly side of velcro, sew a small piece of the fuzzy side to all your clothes. Instead of having to hang them up, just throw them at the wall. You're welcome.

Solving two problems at a time:

• Fat stations - if we could power our cars by sucking the fat out of people you could just pull into a fat station, hook yourself up to a fat volunteer, fill up with fat. You get free fuel, fat person gets thin. No more pollution, no more obesity. Genius.
• Feed the fat people to the hungry. No more obesity, no more starving people. World Problem's No.4 and 5 - cracked it.
• Using the skins off garbanzo beans (chickpeas) as contact lenses. I'm like Fred Hollows but without any qualifications. Or skills. Also I don't save Australian eyes*

Plenty more where this came from.  A can.  $1.43.

• I just had this idea today after my third ever yoga class last night.  Now that I'm a yoga teacher,** I think I'll open a yoga studio and have everyone just show up with their mats, unroll them, then...nap.  It's a different style of yoga.  New.  Its origins are from my head.  You should stay in the nap pose for an hour.
• I can't tell you in case you steal it for yourself. 

*Look him up.  Try and ignore the part about where he defected from NZ to Australia and focus on the good he did.  The Australians take all our good stuff - pavlova, Crowded House, Phar Lap, meat pies, the electric fence, spreadable butter, probably our sheep.  Then they turn around and try and give us their crap in exchange - prisoners (and pass them off as citizens), possums, spiders of a ridiculous size.  Probably cholera and plague (there's no evidence online because they stole the internet too). 
**Self-appointed.  The nap part is just until I learn more than Downward Dog.  Is fetal position, a position?  I'm good at that.  I practice for the bear attacks.

How To Go To A Bar On Your Own

• Leave the house. Congratulate self on good plan
• Return to the house to get Kindle (just in case)
• Select your outfit carefully - bar seats can be tricky to manage. Dresses and skirts will get shorter when you sit on a bar stool. Depending on the crowd this can be a positive... 
• Do a drive-by, but with your legs, of several bars to scour for an even mix of (a) empty spot at the bar (b) interesting looking people* (c) large groups**
• Select your bar, casually saunter in, look around questioningly as if you're meeting someone. Head to the bar and grab a seat. I like to sit in between a couple but not many people are open to this. I find being persistent works. Sometimes you end up with three seats to yourself.
• Ask for a menu and peruse it as if your life depended on it and there is nothing more interesting, because once they take it away, you are left with looking at your phone, bringing out your kindle or making an origami crane out of your napkin which you would think would be a huge talking point and have people flocking to you***
• Order something respectable and sophisticated. Like this****:

Classy.  Just like me.

• Consider ordering food - just remember, as a solo person, you are invisible to the wait staff so make sure they remember you by telling them everything you are allergic to. Eliminating gluten from your diet is tough but not nearly as tough as eliminating talking about eliminating gluten from your diet.  This is not the time to try - you need to drive the point home otherwise you will starve.
• Take a notebook and start drawing or writing in it - this is to draw people over to you to see what you're doing that has you so engaged. It will not work
• You will be judged for being a woman in a bar on your own. No one will believe that you just wanted to get a drink and hang out. And make new friends so you can invite them over for dinner parties where you will sit around and have witty and intellectually stimulating conversation.  Not around a fire pit.  Because you don't have one.
• At a certain point, you will realize that since you have no one to talk to, you have drunk a little too much, a little too quickly. That's when you receive an imaginary text "You can dance - Sincerely, Wine". And you do. And you can't. And it's a bar not a club. No one else is dancing. And they want you off the bar. But you had a hard enough time getting up there so there is where you'll stay. So you pretend it's a piano and you try and look all sexy and writhe around on the bar and then you fall off and realize getting down was easier although more painful than you first thought.
• If you have not been kicked out at this point, you take your seat with grace. And a little huffing and puffing which sort of ruins the grace part.

*This is very hard to tell. And hard to do without appearing judgmental. Luckily this is my blog so I can do whatever I want. Avoid very beautiful people. You don't want the competition. You also don't want super ugly people.
**Sometimes they won't notice that you have attached yourself to them and are pretending to be one of the crowd. Casually helping yourself to the bottle of wine they have ordered will help you to blend. Generally. Sometimes you will have to leave. Very fast.
***You would be wrong
****This will also let your fellow bar-goers just what kind of person you are.  And they will want to be your best friend.  Sometimes, they won't know this immediately.

A Study Of Carrots*

Yes, this is how I spent my Sunday afternoon.  Why?

When good carrots go bad...and grow horns.

Carrot porn

Dirty carrot

Easter Island Carrot

Carrot in a bikini**

Hawaiian Carrot - Aloha!

Incognito Carrot - pretending to be a snake

Native American carrot

Carrot on a zebra - "We ride at dawn!"

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Carrot

Punk Rocker carrot

Here comes the bride...carrot

Positive carrot

Xmas Tree carrot

*No carrots were abused or harmed in the writing of this post.  They were however, eaten.  Some of them had glue on them.  They should not have been eaten.
**Awkward moment where I have just realized a carrot looks better in a bikini than me.