I've already dubbed the latter half of 2007 as being a pretty average time frame, despite the fact that it hasn't even happened yet. My other half is going to be thousands of miles away. I have two full terms of schoolwork to do/teach. Ideally, I would like to lose another ten kilos in that time as well, which means a shitload of exercising and staying away from pizza. Not sounding too crash hot, in my humble opinion.

But things are starting to look up.

I have fabulous friends who I'm planning to stalk lots. (They don't actually know this yet.)
I have a hefty amount of reading to do. (I'm a nerd, and start back at Book 1 every time.)
I have a few movies I'm interested in seeing. (Anyone want to come? I'll shout popcorn.)
I even have a music concert that I'm going to attend. (They better not play after I leave!)

Now, if only I win the lottery between now and January, I'll be cheering.

Just call me Doctor Dolittle.

It's been a couple of months since I lost my Bella-Rabbit unexpectedly. (sniff)
It's been a couple of months since I grew tired of watching Lucy-Bun look lonely. (sniff)
It's been a month since I bought Jason a bun named Ricky-Ricardo for his birthday. (ha!)
You might have remembered my worried posts from a couple of weeks ago. My two aptly-named bunnies, Lucy & Ricky, hated each other. They'd be fine for the first few minutes, but then I'd be greeted with teeth gnashing, foot stomping & tufts of fur flying.

Things were looking pretty grim in the Bun Mansion.

Until now.
I finally possess photographic evidence that I am not a completely useless rabbit momma.

They're not being quite so evil anymore. But I'm holding onto the t-shirt, just in case.

Ricky: I'm in ur food bowlz, eating ur pellets. (And feets! Check out his feets!)
Lucy: Move over bitch, I'm hungry.

What's on the Box?

Warning: Please read the following notice before proceeding any further with this entry.

[You may want to give this post a miss if you're not in the mood for reading a post where I waffle on about television shows. It's in your best interests.]

Most people that frequent my blog know that I'm a trifle obsessed with collecting DVD boxsets. I don't bother watching much television when a show is currently screening, but you can bet money that I either a) own, b) am in the prospect of owning, or c) plan to one day own that show in boxset format. (My obsession used to be shoes .. now this .. I think they're both just as bad as each other.)

The first television show that I owned was bought as a gift for a birthday, a couple of years ago: The original CSI. That was it; I was hooked. Then I discovered EzyDVD and the lure of free shipping, and it all went downhill from there.

Here's a current list of the shows which I own, in no particular order.

CSI (1-5), House (1-2), Grey's Anatomy (1-2), Dawson's Creek (complete), Charmed (complete), Roswell (complete), Will & Grace (1-4), Felicity (complete), ER (1-7), Nip/Tuck (1-2), Supernatural (1), Without a Trace (1), 24 (1-3), Gilmore Girls (1-6), Smallville (1-4), Party of Five (1), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (complete) & The X-Files (complete.)

Say it with me now: NEEEEEEEEEEEERD.

Since I'm such a collector, I've made a number of observations about my favourite shows. And being such a kind soul with too much time on her hands, I'd love to share them.

Observation #1 - 24
I would hate to be an actress working on this show. I mean, the show is great, they probably make a fortune out of it, but imagine wearing the same outfit & hairstyle for the entire series? It'd make me a trifle miserable, I think. I'm back at Season 1 (which I've never seen before, I started at about Season 4 when it was free-to-air) and it's a lot less .. fabulous .. than the current series. Jack looks MUCH hotter now. And I miss the Jack Sack.

Observation #2 - Felicity
When I was in New Zealand, a big electrical storm hit my area. My el-cheapo $30 DVD player was fried in the process, and I was thrilled to recieve a new, more expensive model as its replacement. Yeah. Thrilled. For all it's perks (It plays videos! And dvds! On one remote!) it is not multi-region friendly. Meaning that even though I finally own all of Felicity thanks to Amazon, I can't even watch the bloody things. I don't know what happens after Season 1, which of the boys does she choose? (If you tell me, I may hurt you.) Shit, Bugger, Crap. The verdict: Flashy isn't always better. I miss you el-cheapo!

Observation #3 - The X-Files
It's still just as spooky as it was when I was 12. I'm just saying.

Observation #4 - Gilmore Girls
I can only watch this show in small doses. Rory pisses me off way too much, and I still stand by the fact that those two girls should be huge giant porkers what with the amount of junk that they consume. So not realistic and/or fair. Whores!

Observation #5 - Dawson's Creek
Seeing what an annoying drama queen Joey turns into, it doesn't surprise me that she's turned into an annoying trophy wife. And even though I was always a fan of Pacey hotness over Dawson hotness? Dawson is looking mighty fine in Season 6.

Observation #6 - Buffy the Vampire Slayer
They should never have canned this show. How could they leave it like that? And Spike! I loved me some Spike action. I would have happily kept watching this show, if only for the fact that SMG's hair is always really, really pretty.

Observation #7 - CSI
There is still a part of me that secretly wants to be a forensic scientist. I blame this show. Oh, and Nick should never have shaved off his hair in Season 5.

Observation # 8 - Roswell
I'm secretly in love with Max, years after the show was axed. Sigh. What a dreamboat.

Observation #9 - Charmed
I still get excited whenever I see the intro to this show, because the last time we were in LA, we did a tour and actually saw the external of the house they base the Halliwells in. (We saw the set of Stars Hollow as well, but we were more interested in stalking Noah Wyle at the time of that particular tour.)

Observation #10 - About Me, Myself & I
I put off watching my favourite boxsets until absolutely last. Like the X-Files, for example. I looked for these babies everywhere, before I ended up purchasing them cheaply from an Asian country (my boxes have pretty symbols all over them, and I have no idea what they mean!) and now that they're here? I refuse to watch them. I'll save them until I have watched all of the rest of my DVDs, so that they'll be special. You see? I'm a nerd.

In case you were wondering, my next television conquests are going to be Angel (1-5), ER (8), CSI (6), Melrose Place (2) & 90210 (1 & 2). I have such classy tastes, don't you think?

I'm a good cause; feel free to donate!

(Oh, and if you have any suggestions on shows that I've missed, feel free to share.)

How Inappropriate.

In the middle of a procrastination session last night, I stumbled across a blog rating quiz on Carrie's blog. Being the charmingly innocent blogger that I am, I decided to be brave and give it a go. (What? I'm a sucker for memes.)

I've written my fair share of er, ranting blog posts. A lot of these posts have been er, less than positive ones. And yep, I've used my fair share of er, less than polite expressions in the afore mentioned blog posts. I figured I'd be at least PG-rated, like all the cool kids.


I am more innocent than I thought. This blog is G-rated, bitches. (Hee!) Apparently, the blog rater believes that 'suck' is more of a swear word than a certain other rhyming word that starts with the letter F.

I do have one complaint.

Why the (beep) is my new domain blocked by the Department of Education here at school? Pretty poor if you ask me, especially since you can view all of my old Typepad entries - and they contain content that is ONE AND THE SAME. Bah!

It's not Herpes, I swear.

Today started out like any other day.

I unwillingly got out of bed, stumbled around in the dark looking for another jumper to put on, made myself a hot chocolate and snuck onto the computer to check my email. I spent the next hour happily distracted emailing Aimee, bringing out the old "I don't WANT to go to school today" whinge and pretending not to notice what the actual time was. Comfy as I was, it was time to get ready so off I slouched to the bathroom.

I don't know what it was that made me do things differently this morning. Maybe it's end-of-term-itis or something. But instead of showering, I decided to brush my teeth first. What's so eventful about that, you ask?

(Other than enlightening you all about my dental hygiene habits, that is.)

As I opened my mouth to stick in the toothbrush, I split the corner of my lip. You know, that part in the middle, to the side of your mouth, where your top and bottom lip join.

Yeah. That part.

It's the most painful thing I've experienced in a long time.

Post laser eyeballs? Meh. Slamming my finger three times in the same drawer last week? Meh. Shin splints when trying to run? Bah. They're nothing!

As for my mouth, damn. Who knew I used it so much? (No dirty references intended.)

Talking hurts. Smiling hurts. Opening my mouth to yawn? Heck, no. Add the fact that my tongue keeps sneaking out to touch it and that it looks like a big festy cold sore, and I'm sure you can imagine that I'm not a happy little vegemite.

Anyone have a paper bag to share with me?

Would you like some Thai food to go with that new Blog?

So twenty four hours later, I'm still pretty excited about the fact that I've changed websites. Let's face it, it's a monumental occassion in the history of blogging. Mark it in your calendars, you saw it here first, yada yada yada.

After spending a fair few hours a couple of minutes harrassing people with questions about gizmos and gadgets, and just a little extra time fiddling around with functions (trying to convince myself that I knew how to use CSS) I'm right back to where I started. Little old me, who can't do much more than work the section of my website that says "New Post".

But that's all that matters, right?

Besides, as fascinating as this blogging move has been, there's more to life than domains and being a dork. (Gasp! I know. Blasphemy! I hear you.) I have many more important life events to discuss with you all. In fact, I'll share one with you this very second.

[crickets chirping]
[tumbleweeds blowing by in the breeze]

I'm really hungry. And I've been craving Thai food like you would not believe. The cravings started last night.They're still here.

Cashew nut chicken stirfry. Garlic lamb. Oyster beef. Pad Thai. Green Curry. Rice. Plain, boring, boiled and sticky rice. Mmm. Is it too much information to tell you that I'm drooling right about now? Sadly, I won't be eating Thai food for dinner tonight. Why? Because I am lazy and can't be arsed to drive fifteen minutes to pick up the damn food.

Question of the Day: Why the heck doesn't my favourite Thai Restaurant deliver to your door? Discuss amongst yourselves. (And then bring me some food. Please.)

Edit: So my brother has been living under a rock for years and has never tried Thai food before, so with a little convincing and the wave of a $50 note, he went down to the store to pick some up for me. Apparently bribery works wonders.

And also? Am poor now. But completely satisified. Mmm. Food.

A New Beginning.

After a very rash decision to spend money that I don't have much consideration, I finally took the plunge into geekdom and registered my own domain. You see? This is what happens when I am left at home alone for too long on my own.

So how has YOUR weekend been?

You'll have to bear with the standard template for now, because I've exhausted my design capabilities today. It was hard enough figuring out how to import my old Typepad entries over here. My brain still hurts. But hey! There's my picture!

I do need some help with getting a free template I found up and running on here. Any volunteers? Oh, and could SOMEONE please tell me how I add a favicon into my Wordpress CSS? I'm going mad. You know you want to help. You'll be paid with love. Lots and lots of love.

(Yes, my blog may be all spruced up now, but that doesn't change the fact that I am still technologically incompetent. If only!)

And don't forget to change your links & feeds to my new address!

Change Your Links! I'm Moving!

I've moved.

Do you see that? How cool is that? I was lazy and bored this rainy Sunday afternoon, and look what my time-wasting skills brought about! Obviously, I need a life.

This site is going to stay here for a little while until people have a chance to change their links/blog reader feeds, and then it's going to go 'poof'. I am such a computer nerd.

Now come on over to my OWN blogsite, and help me figure out the kinks over there.

I'll be seeing you!

Lifehouse = Love

Jase brought over a copy of the new Lifehouse CD last night, where I got to listen to it for the 'First Time'. (Ha! First time! Get it? Or maybe you don't. I am a nerd.) I have to say, last night I was so cold and tired that I was only half listening to it and they didn't sound too crash hot - but I've had the CD on repeat all morning. And I'm enjoying it. Alot.

For those of you who don't know, Lifehouse have been my absolute favourite band, since 2000. They also played a crucial role in how Jase and I met, but I won't go into that now. You either know about that, or you don't, hee.

(If you don't know, I might point you in the right direction. For chocolates, of course.)

They had released three albums in the past, some better than others, and over recent years had been slipping off my musical radar, so I had huge expectations for this album. (Suffice it to say, I was really hoping not to be disappointed.)

I'm pleasantly surprised. I'm enjoying it, I'm enjoying the mixture. And I've missed hearing Jason Wade's voice. It's beautiful.

So if you like mellow/rock music, I'll recommend it. For now, I'm going to keep on listening, and remembering. Memorieees.

Did Someone Say Cranky?

If my bed wasn't shoved against a wall, I would swear I got out of it on the wrong side this morning. I spilled hot water out of the kettle and onto my hand. My hair dryer decided to blow up and not work, and since my parents are overseas, there was no back up. I've lost a $20 note out of my wallet which I can't find anywhere. I've slammed my finger in my desk drawer three times. (Three!) Other people are making me feel crabby. I feel bloated and lethargic and downright 'bleh'.

Be thankful you're not a seven year old in my class today, because as a result of all this bad luck I am in one heck of a mood. It doesn't help that the kidlets are being particularly off-task, or that I am more than ready to lose patience with them. I've mentioned "The Look" before in this journal, which is a teacher trait I've mastered well over time. If I were counting, I would have used "The Look" upwards of twenty times today. And the day isn't over yet.

It's days like this when I crave an office job, a 9-5 where the only person I am responsible for is ME.

I have no idea how other teachers juggle being a parent as well as teaching their kidlets. I'm so ready to switch off from 'teacher mode' when I get home; I don't even want to think about children, let alone parent them.

I guess I'm further away from maturity than I thought I was.

And Just to Clear Things Up . . .

Yesterday wasn't actually MY birthday. It was the school's 25th birthday. Did you read that right? The school is older than me.

(But yes. I did still have my cake and eat it too.)

Oh, and I find it a wee bit scary that it's almost 7am and it is still pitch black outside. The weather this year is bonkers.

Oh My God!

I survived through today's birthday celebrations at school, woohoo! It was a great today with stacks of food, lots of cute kidlet moments, stacks of food, cake, and did I mention stacks of food? *groan*

I swear, even though I only picked at stuff all day, I've gained my ten kilos back just by looking at the heaped tables and inhaling all the yummy smells. (I did splurge on some cake though because hello? Birthday! And chocolate!)

I realised a few days ago that I haven't really given you an update on Ricky & Lucy lately - let's just say things aren't going too swimmingly.

Or should I say hoppingly?

In fact, I bought this t-shirt because it sums up how they're getting along lately: They're both possessed demon bunnies. See those teeth? (Not mine. The bunnies.) They come out whenever the two are placed together. Meh.

They cannot be trusted, those two.

But hey! I have a cute shirt. With bunnies! Which is a positive for everyone!

(Side note: Why does my hair go brown everytime I photograph myself? And why does my hairline look like it's receding?)

We'll never know. . .

A Rephrase Might Be Necessary.

A couple of weeks ago, I came out and stated that I was a pretty mellow girlfriend when push came to shove. Yeah, well, fast forward to today, where I've decided that I'm taking it all back. Bugger putting up that cool, non-plussed exterior.

As of right now? I feel like a big, gigantic mess.

The final realisation that I won't actually be seeing Jason for six months is pissing me off.
The fact that my brain and heart are over-reacting to trivial things is pissing me off.
The questions that people ask about long distance relationships are pissing me off.
The comments that people make about long distance relationships are pissing me off.

In fact, the idea that I'll actually be a part of a long distance relationship in just a few short weeks, is sounding less and less appealing as each day goes past. Last night, my dreams centred around my wedding, and it seemed as though everything was falling apart. In the dream I was so out of the loop, that I remember sitting (dressed in bridal attire) at the top of my staircase, just asking the people dashing around me exactly where I was getting married today? And how were we getting there? And who am I marrying again? You know it's not looking good when even your dreams are flustered.

I don't like turning into a paranoid freak. I don't like reading into every single thought that flings into my head. I don't like questioning myself or Jason, especially when I know things will work out in the end and I'm comfortable with that.

It's just that right now, at this second? I've turned into that person.

And it scares me.


For most Aussie teachers out there, this time of year is horrible. We have half yearly reports due, we're tired after teaching for 20 weeks straight (with a measly two week break in between) and time at work seems to slow down and drag on . . . and on . . . and, well, you get the idea. The weekends disappear, and the working week feels more like a year. I'm experiencing a very rocky relationship with Mondays as of late.

I'm lucky enough to be recieving my hour of release time now, but even that time has been eaten up. How can it only be Monday? We have a busy week coming up, as our school is celebrating it's 25th birthday and there are lots of things happening. But it's overcast and miserable, and all I feel like doing is curling into a ball and sleeping. There are cots in the preschool, wonder if they'd let me borrow one?

I'm sure there is a point to this blog post. And I'm fairly sure that the point involves a request for sympathy, attention and possibly alcohol, but I'm so scatterbrained that I've forgotten. (I'm fairly sure the alcohol was a positive, though.) Instead, I'll settle for being distracted by all of the fun things that are going on with YOU instead. I'll just pretend to be enjoying the good times as well, okay?

Domesticated - Part Two.

I've come to realise that you learn a lot about your personality when you're left to fend for yourself. (Yes, I only JUST came to this conclusion. Yes, I'm almost 23. Yes, I'm not even in the 'real world' yet. I know all this, so shut it!) Seriously though, it's already been over a week that the house has been practically empty, and I'm sure that the rest of the time will fly by as well. Time always does that when you want it to stand still . . . but that's a topic for another day. Back to me!

I'm a huge procrastinator. This doesn't come as a surprise to me, since I've always been that way - but I'm talking procrastinating about little things, from taking a shower at the last possible minute, to doing my exercise at the last possible minute, to getting up in the morning at the last possible minute. You see the pattern. I really love prolonging things.

I'm a bit of a clean freak. My parents would probably read this and snort laugh out loud, but I don't see why it is so hard for my brother to lift a finger and clean the damn bench when he's messed it up. I hate mess - in the kitchen most of all.  And Ajay has completely stuffed up my laundry system, and therefore needs to be punished.

I'm better on the treadmill. If no-one is sitting next to me watching television while I'm sweating it out, I work harder. I'm doing the Couch to 5k programme at the moment, and start Week 5 tomorrow - running for intervals of five minutes at a time. And I can do it! But the second someone's watching? I turn into an unco-ordinated freak who can't put a foot right.

I'm not that bad a cook. I'm not terribly wonderful in the kitchen, if that's what you're thinking. And it takes me a heck of a lot longer to make things than the suggested preparation times tell me. But I like making things, and I like it when they taste good. Cleaning is a whole other story, however. Isn't there a rule written somewhere that if you cook, you don't have to clean?

I'm really enjoying being alone. In the week, I come home from work, potter around the house, do my walking and start on dinner. I finish the nights off with a book, having a spa or snuggled in bed watching television. And I like it that way! (I suppose this is a good thing, considering I'll have to get used to it as of August the 3rd, bah.) It's nice when it's just me.

That being said, Jase has been fantastic so far - coming over on the weekends to keep me sane company, watching movies with me (I'm never watching Eight Below again, wah, sad!) and humouring my paranoia by making me feel better. But I have to say this firmly - weekends officially suck. Who  decided that there should be five working days and only two days of rest?

Person's a moron.

Bloody Lala!

It's completely her fault that I'm fascinated by Facebook - seriously, I've been aware of it for a whopping four days now and that was all it took. All I want to do is stalk people. Bloody fabulous! What an invention.

So, consider this a public service announcement; if you have a facebook account, stop by and be my friend. Because I am lonely. And addicted. And bored. This is a very dangerous combination. Trust me on that one. Oh, oh, I was tagged the other day and only JUST discovered it, so I shall do that one now too. Fabulous! [twiddles thumbs]

Listing my 12 favourite movies is like asking me to choose between my 12 favourite songs, bloody difficult. But let's see;

12. Beauty & The Beast - Yes, I'm talking about the Disney version. What? It's a great movie!
11. Brokedown Palace - Sort of scary since that could happen to any of us, plus, love the soundtrack.
10. Jurassic Park - This is also a good indication of my nerd factor, but dinosaurs are cool.
9. European Vacation - Oh how I love some Chevy Chase. "Look kids, Big Ben, Parliament!"
8. Titanic - Oh lord, the cheese factor, I know. I'll have you know I had my first ever kiss in a screening of this movie.
7. Harry Potter (all of 'em) - Love the books, love the films. Love Ron & the Weasley twins.
6. Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion - "I hope your babies look like monkeys."
5. Happy Gilmore - "Are you too good for your home?" Adam Sandler cracks me up.
4. Dantes Peak - Am a nut with destructive natural disaster movies. Also love Volcano. Yep. Dork.
3. Love, Actually - Because I'm a big softy who loves chick flicks (and Hugh Grant). It's awesome.
2. Braveheart - It's a classic! How can you NOT love it? The love story, the history, the battles... love.
1. City of Angels - To this day, I am still in lust with Nicolas Cage, and I have absolutely no idea why.

Since I'm a tagging drama queen, I'm opening it up for everyone who's up for it. I'm just generous like that, hee. (Edit: I totally have to add two more chick flicks I forgot - Bring It On (Jesse Bradford is BLOODY HOT and also Never Been Kissed. All done!) (Edit: And Jason just yelled at me because I forgot to write the Lord of the Rings movies on here.. fine, fine.)

The Gift of Words (aka Happy Birthday Lara!)

A good friend of mine is having a birthday soon, and has requested that we dedicate any sort of celebratory post to a person of our choice. Almost instantaneously, I knew that I wanted to focus my gift around one of my blogfriends - I'd like to think that my real life friends and family members know how important they are to me, leaving me to choose someone who might not be aware themselves of how lovely they are.

I've been sitting here for a while, pondering who I was going to choose - which person to acknowledge as being someone that has made a difference to me in some way or another. Because let's face it, you're ALL pretty damn awesome. (Why else would we be friends, huh?) Maybe one day, I'll get motivated enough to get around to writing  a monumentally sappy post dedicated to all of my mates from internet-land, because it's funny how a couple of comments and a couple of emails go such a long way. Geez, I haven't even started my letter and I'm already rambling, this can't be good. And now for the long-awaited (and very much long-winded) letter, with complimentary cheese.

(Mmmmm. Cheese.)
Sorry about that. I have cheese on the brain.

My dear friend,

I can't even remember how we managed to find each other on the internet, but I have a feeling it was through stalking Amalah, correct me if I'm wrong here. (Am not renowned for having a fabulous memory.) I do remember you being one of the first commenters that came by and showed me some loving back in the day, which made me feel pretty special. (Alright, I'll admit it, I still feel special whenever people comment. Fine. Sheesh. Happy now?) Before I discovered Bloglines, yours was one of the first blogs I would stalk, waiting for updates. You're just that special!

The way you write never fails to remind me that you'd be the kind of person I would love to hang out with for coffee or drinks in real life, and you always crack me up! I love that you love animals, I love how cute you and your man are as a couple, I love that you bowl, and I love how you're real. (Told you there would be cheese involved, see?)

You're one of the few, if not only person who knows of (and is interested in) my personal blog that is kept hidden, and you're one of the few people that I actually would want to know about it. I have always appreciated how supportive you are of my struggles, and I am SO proud of how much you have accomplished. You always were beautiful, and that fact is still true now!

So thanks, Aimee for being an awesome part of my blogging family. You're lovely, and I think you're a-okay!

Much love,

Now back to the birthday girl, a 25th shout out goes to Lara - wishing you all the best from this here part o' the world! Thankyou for being the gorgeous person that you, and I truly hope the coming year brings you lots of joy. (And lots of real AND internet gifts too!)

A Great Comeback Line.

Yep. If anyone ever brings out the good old 'If Billy jumped off a bridge, does that mean you would do it too?' line, my answer?

Sure! (If there's a big-ass piece of elastic strapped around my ankles, that is.)

Today I recieved a parcel in the mail from one of the girls on Contiki. Inside, was a DVD containing some classified photographs, featuring yours truly (and her rather large stomach) launching herself off a bridge in Queenstown. If you are a new reader and weren't around for my January New Zealand adventure, you may not realise that Jase, being a clever, clever chook, deleted the evidence of my Kawarau Bridge bungy jump off the camera. (He claims by accident, but after seeing some of these photos, I think he was actually just afraid of the lard content in them. I know I am.)

So now, I can finally show you how brave I was, with proof that I really DID throw myself off a bridge. (Brave, maybe. Stupid, indeed.) But I'm serious, the lard factor is NOT kind to the eyes. Am just glad the bungee ropes held strong.

My jumping story was actually rather cruel, considering I was told I'd end up going last, yet was yoinked to the front of the line when I was least expecting it. Not good for the panicking, let me tell you. I didn't even really get to say 'goodbye' to Jason, either. It was just a 'Hey, you! Let's go!' And, look! There I am waving like a loon and trying not to crap my pants! At this point, I was positive I was going to trip over and stumble to my death, because it's bloody hard to try and stand still with your ankles tied together. On a plank. Preparing to JUMP OFF A BRIDGE. And also? I wasn't quite ready to jump yet. No really. I'd rather not. Just give me some time. What's wrong with you people? I don't want to jump off a bridge. Who came up with this stupid idea anyway? What the fuck was I thinking? Help! Shit! Crap!

After I waved for the stupid camera, and smiled at the stupid people watching on the viewing podium (geez, no pressure!) I clung like mad to this little hand-rest that was just behind me. I then got shouted at by the bungy dude, who was telling me it's actually dangerous to hold onto that, and that I really ought to just jump off the damn bridge already. He started counting me down, but realised that tactic wasn't working when he got to 1 and I was still there, shivering in my boots and wondering if there were any other ways to get down. It wasn't the warmest of days, so I had asked specifically to do the jump that would swing me above the river below, instead of being dunked up to my waist. No, thankyou. In the end, I decided to just jump already, because I feared the bungy guy was about ready to push me off the plank. I put my arms up in the air, and sort of launched myself off without thinking. I wish I knew what I was thinking, but it's all a big blank now. Who would have thought that I actually did a really good dive off the platform, judging by this photograph anyway.

And that was that! I had my eyes squished shut the whole way down, and was silent for the dive part. As I swung up backwards under the bridge, I opened my mouth and let out a squawking/shrieking noise and then enjoyed the swinging! They kept to their word, and I was hanging back and forth above the water, which was great. I had done it! (At this stage, I was more worried about the fact that my shirt was flying up towards the boob area, and EW, flab!) I saw the inflatable raft start to make its way towards me, when all of a sudden the ropes went slack and I saw myself headed straight for the water! Yep. For some reason, they had loosened the ropes, so guess who got a dunking in the FREEZING cold water? Er, yes, that would be me. I came up spluttering, only to be bounced back into the water again for a second time. That time, I was greeted by the guys in the rowboat laughing at me, nice! After a couple of dazed attempts of grabbing the pole, I was lowered into the boat and my legs untied. I remember just lying in there with my hands over my face, shaking from pure adrenalin. (And cold.)

So there is my bungy story. There's not much else to it, other than random snippets of events like watching Jase do his bungy, being photographed by Japanese tourists while I was walking up the hill dripping wet, and then trying to towel myself off in the bathrooms with toilet paper. But you know what? I can show these pictures to my grandkids one day. (And I'm happy to report that after the other day's whinging? I think my gut looks a little less lardy now. Bonus.)

On Being a Mentor.

Just a few short years ago, I remember sitting in a fairly large lecture hall at university, listening to one of the lecturers ramble on about things like teaching styles and behaviour management.  I'm not the sort of person who picks up information through listening, so my notepads tended to be filled with doodles and a borderline obsessive-compulsive habit of scribbling my signature over and over again. Even though I enjoyed learning about education, some of those lectures weren't particularly interesting, and it wasn't just me who passed the time being distracted . . . there were a few of us who started zoning out after the first fifteen minutes of talking. There was one topic though, that awoke even the most disinterested student; and that was any sentence containing the words 'professional', 'experience' and 'placement'.

My first degree in Psychology didn't have any form of practical training; you were placed in the field if you completed your fourth year Honours in the programme. So while the theory and assignment half of my Teaching degree was nothing new to me, the idea of being on professional experience? Terrified the pants off me. We were told about some of the things to expect while at university, we were told horror stories of past student teaching experiences and overall, the lead up to the school visits was a pretty stressful time.

My first school visit wasn't spectacular, to put it mildly. We were placed on a class with a fellow teaching student, and I was placed with a stranger; a girl I had only recently met in a tutorial. Together, we completed our first professional experience with a teacher who was very open about the fact that she hadn't really wanted a prac student, let alone two. I remember my parents being overseas at the time (holidays, again!) and staying up until the wee hours completing lesson plans, getting resources ready, doing evaluations and stressing in general. Gah. Our teacher didn't give us any feedback, so we were actually panicking about failing at this stage, but then we were surprised by a glowing final report on the final day. I came out of that professional experience relieved that it was over, excited to have an 'Outstanding' final grade, and having made a good friend.

My final school visit also wasn't spectacular, and I was on my own this time around. My teacher was pretty high up in the school executive system, and didn't really seem to have the time for a student teacher, so I was often left to my own devices in preparing lessons and fitting in with her schedule. I remember many a day sitting on the demountable steps at 8am in the morning, waiting for her to get to school so I could get in the classroom and start planning for the day ahead. (I'm a paranoid freak when I'm not organised.) Again, by the end of the professional experience, I was also relieved for it to be over and done with, and pleasantly surprised by another positive final report.

All in all, I finished my work experience placements in teaching with positive and negative experiences. I had an idea of what sort of teacher I was turning out to be, and I knew what sort of teacher I would try my hardest not to turn out like. And most of all, I knew that I wanted to be the teacher in charge one day. I wanted to be able to give a student teacher a positive professional experience visit, to make sure they knew where they stood from day one, to share the positives and not focus on the negatives. I wanted to be the mentor.

Today marks the end of my first student teacher's reign over my classroom, and I'm thrilled to say that I enjoyed the role as mentor as much as I had hoped I would. It's amazing how much I've learned about my own teaching from watching the kidlets react to another teacher in the room. It's amazing to watch the kidlets 'act up' in ways they wouldn't normally try using on me. And I've learned a nice stash of educational games and activities that I wouldn't have thought to use in the classroom. I just hope that I've given my lovely student teacher the kind of experience that I would have loved to receive when I was at university, not all that long ago.

And you know what? Even though I know that student teachers aren't all sunshine and rainbows, I absolutely can't wait to be a mentor all over again. Maybe I'll get the chance to have another visitor later on in the year.


It feels as though I've had this house to myself for a heck of a lot longer than just four days. Like any twenty year old male with a girlfriend, Ajay sort of floats between here and . . . well, wherever else he goes in his spare time, leaving me and the house alone to bond. But you know, even though I do my share of domestic duties at the best of times, I still share the load between four people, leaving me somewhat more spoiled than most.

Needless to say, after the fourth load of laundry, tenth kitchen clean-up and thousandth yell at Ajay, the novelty of this house-sitting business has worn off just a tad. All cleaning aside, I'm actually enjoying the calm for now, even though it's bloody lonely sitting in this house with noone to talk to! But if I had the choice between frosty early mornings and cruising down Route 66? I think I know what I'd choose.

I've mentioned before that Penelope the Ipod has a very clever trick of pulling out appropriate songs at appropriate occasions? Guess what song I was presented with as I was on the treadmill this evening, contemplating the massive pile of clothes that needed folding and wondering what the chances were of Ajay actually doing anything in the next four weeks?

'Life is a Highway.'

Yeah, yeah. I'm the boring one stuck at home NOT on the road trip, we've established that. Way to rub it in, bitch!

Excuse Me While I Frolic. And then Whinge.

So I don't usually mention anything weight related on this blog, I tend to keep it private and only very few people have access to my other blog that rambles on about food and exercise and blah blah blah. Just after reading that one sentence, you've probably figured out why;  I assume that most people just aren't interested in reading weight loss blogs, unless they're actually in the process of doing it for themselves. The short story? It's semi-boring-ish, and I'm trying to spare you all.

Obviously though, there must be a point to all this drivel, because I've already wasted about ten seconds of your time rambling on about weight stuff and blogs and all that other stuff I was trying to keep hidden away. Why yes, this point is sort of exciting, and why yes, there is whinging that comes along with it, hence the reason for it being posted on this here blog.

Phew. Was that a long-winded post introduction or what?

Moving right along, over the last few months I have been in the process of having a lifestyle makeover. I don't like the word diet. Shit. I said it. Naughty girl. I much prefer lifestyle makeover. Sounds nicer and puts less pressure on everyone involved, or at least that's what I've convinced myself, anyway. I've half heartedly been in the midst of a lifestyle makeover since oh, about three years ago now? But like most of my projects, procrastination took over and I ended up with my weight bouncing all over the place but not really being altered in any positive way. As of the beginning of the year, I decided it was about time to start putting the wheels in motion, because if looking (and feeling) like a lard arse in a foreign country next year isn't enough of an incentive, I don't know what is. And besides, I'd love to feel comfortable in my own skin sometime this decade.

So I put my foot down, and I started being serious about things. We're lucky enough to have a pretty awesome treadmill here at home, so armed with Penelope the Ipod (ha! she is named!) I got busy and tried to keep up at least some sort of exercise every day. I line danced every so often with my mum. I went to the gym when I could be bothered, although I've since come the conclusion that I'm not a very motivated chook when I'm at the gym and I work out much harder on my own. I started not long ago on the Couch to 5k running programme, and have been forcing myself to jog, bitch, jog whenever I can.

Believe it or not, for the first time things are actually working. I'm losing, albeit slowly, and since March I've lost over 10kgs. (22lbs, for anyone who doesn't use kgs.) Don't get me wrong, today's Monday morning weigh-in was the one that brought me to that goal, and I'm ecstatic about it. But I do have one complaint: Why have I not changed physically?

Most people when they're starting weight loss are told to ignore the scales (because they LIE, those evil, evil contraptions) and to judge by how you feel, how your clothes fit, how your measurements indicate loss. For me? Things seem to be the opposite. My scales show me losing weight, yet I'm still sitting here in the same old clothes I've had since March. Things are getting slightly looser, but after 10kgs? I was expecting to be at least one size smaller. It's left me feeling pretty paranoid, because what scale weight do I have to meet, in order to actually look healthier?  It would be nice to have a new, smaller wardrobe.

It's driving me crazy, and I hate that I'm so busy thinking about the physical non-loss instead of celebrating the actual loss. I am feeling fitter. I am feeling healthier. But seriously folks, unless I have a really skinny big toe or something, I have got no clue as to where the 10kgs has disappeared from. So, give me some thoughts on all this. Am I just  going crazy?

Inconvenient . . Or Just Plain Stupid?

After taping it off one of our cable movie channels a few weeks ago, last night was the first time I got around to watching 'An Inconvenient Truth'. Now I realise that this movie was released a couple of years ago and I semi-consciously listened to all of the talk about it, and listened to the controversy surrounding it. But after watching that movie last night? Damn. We have some serious explaining to do. And I'm left feeling pretty darned ignorant.

I had no idea just how little I knew about the problems going on with our planet. I had no idea that Australia was one of only two developed countries that have not signed the Kyoto Protocol, along with the USA. (Well, gee, I wonder why that would be, it's not as though our politicians have their lips firmly pressed up against a certain other leader's arse or anything.) Heck, I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I had no idea that the problem with global warming was due to a thickening atmosphere; I still assumed we had problems with our atmosphere becoming too thin to withstand the sun's rays. There is so much that I didn't know, and yet I'm responsible for teaching this knowledge to young people? It's pretty humbling, and not something I'm particularly proud of. And I'm just one person. Think of all the people out there who aren't even aware of the urgency.

What I want to know is this: Regardless of any political reasons behind this film's creation, why is it that people aren't taking the problems brought up seriously? Seeing the images of the glaciers disappearing, of the lakes simply drying up, of the Arctic and Antarctic ice shelves just crumbling into nothing; why isn't this striking fear in people? Seeing the scientific evidence, the graphs, the studies that depict the huge increases of pollutants and the huge decreases in natural resources; why aren't we fixing that now? Why are we waiting? Why aren't people seeing this as a problem? Why have we let it get this bad, when the studies have been around for years?

I don't understand why America as a nation, even after the horrifying events that occurred when Hurricane Katrina hit, hasn't made the effort to do something. And I'm definitely not placing blame on one nation only, of course not. We're all involved. I don't understand why Australia as a nation, my own country, the place where I have grown up and I want to raise my children, a land that is completely isolated from the rest of the world and surrounded by water, isn't taking control of things. If the poles continue to crumble and the water temperature continues to rise, if the global water levels increase, crap, Australia is girt by sea. What do they think is going to happen? Are we just meant to magically raise ourselves out of harm's way?

Yes, figuring out ways to solve this problem might cost us money in the short term. I'm not completely stupid, I realise it's not an easy task. Yes, companies might be shut down. Yes, new advances will be needed and this will take time and efforts. Yes, there are risks involved. But surely those risks outweigh the notion of not having a planet to live on at all?

We can all make changes individually, but without the support of the goverments that run our counties, of the businesses who are having the biggest impacts, and most importantly, without the knowledge? We aren't going to get very far. And it's going to be damn scary for those of us who are around in fifty years time, and for our children. I can't even begin to imagine what this planet is going to be like for them. We should all be doing something, anything, now.

If you haven't actually seen the movie for yourself, I really recommend you go and find yourself a copy. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this topic, because since last night I cannot stop thinking about what I've learned. I have been so caught up in the 'me, me, me' aspect of my future, that I haven't once really stopped to contemplate the idea of what the future might turn out like on a global scale. How can we know all of these things and not be doing something about it?

[Crickets Chirping.]

You realise you have got absolutely nothing of importance to say when;

a) You have your blog open on the 'Compose New Post' page for six hours and haven't typed a single word.
b) You wait around for something interesting to happen, just so you can blog about it.
c) You can't be arsed to blog about a single one of the topics that  happen to come into your head.
d) Your fingernails are blue from lack of use, and bed looks much, much more appealing than typing anyway.

I think it's about time I gave the heck up already. Besides, it's Saturday. What better day to self-indulge and have a little r&r? Wishing you wonderful weekend thoughts doing whatever it is you're doing.

Beware of Strangers bearing Vegemite.

Blah Blah Blah (It's raining.)
Blah Blah Blah (Like, really raining.)
Blah Blah Blah (It's been raining for two full days now.)
Blah Blah Blah (I forgot to move the bunnies cages under cover.)
Blah Blah Blah (They both officially think I suck.)
Blah Blah Blah (It's been a long time since it has rained like this.)
Blah Blah Blah (People have subsequently forgotten how to drive in the rain.)
Blah Blah Blah (This disturbs me greatly.)
Blah Blah Blah (Have I mentioned that it's raining?)

Today was a perfectly horrendous yet picture perfect winters day. An overcast sky, icy cold wind and pelting rain that lasted from the time I woke up right through until now, twelve hours later. It's also the second day running that my kidlets have been holed up inside the classrooms at school because it was too wet to have lunch outside; fun times, eh? This miserable weather is enough to make anyone want to leave the country . . . well doesn't that lead nicely into my next point?

Yes, my globetrotting parents are off on their USA vacation, spending some quality time together for the next month or so. (And I just got an alarmingly graphic image of the foilks having 'quality time' in an airplane bathroom, shit, where did that come from? Apparently I need help, and fast.) They get to zoom on through LAX airport and experience the beautiful warm California weather, and I get left to house/pet/brother-sit for them, all the while hoping that the wind doesn't blow any trees through the windows or something. Oh, they definitely got the raw end of the deal, didn't they?

They're heading along Route 66 again, with lots of goodies in hand; so if you live nearby and happen to see a sort of strange ridiculously good looking middle-aged couple wearing Mustang t-shirts and handing out Australian themed goodies, be sure to say hello and give them a big high five. (Because they're friendly, and they are loaded with Caramello Koalas which are the BEST kind of Aussie chocolate, seriously. Yum.)

And hey! I just realised this is the first paragraph where I haven't ended with a question mark. Perhaps the grammar police better add that to their list too, before someone gets hurt.

(And possibly brackets too. Can one use too many brackets?)

Not So Secret and Not So Interesting.

Author's Note: This post will be written without the use of a single exclamation mark. Because I'd rather be stuck as Paris Hilton's jail buddy for 23 days than violate the sacred code of exclamation over-use.

Thankyou everyone who left a comment yesterday; having your paranoia soothed by the words of friends and new faces, is enough to make even the whiniest of bloggers' day. As for my verdict? I don't know if I was brave to submit myself to go under scrutiny, or just plain stupid. All I do know, is that a few more positives would have been nice. (You know, it's now a full day later, and I'm still puzzled by the partying reference. Apparently I have more of a life than I realised.)

In actuality, I'm tired of the monotony of the 'same old' that keeps happening, day in and day out. I'm tired of feeling grouchy over so many of the things that are happening around me. And my most prominent whinge of all, is that I'm tired of feeling so bloody tired all the time.

But rather than focus on all the negatives that I've been surrounded by lately, I've chosen a positive to share. That positive just so happens to be a friend of mine. We haven't had the longest of relationships, but it is one that has had a lasting impact on me and that few people are aware of. We are in contact every day, and any time I'm without this friend I feel lost and just a little dead inside. Her name, er, well, she hasn't actually got a name, but I'm sure you can help me figure that small glitch out. Yes. My beacon of positivity is none other than my sassy Ipod Nano.

If you're still reading, I applaud you. It must mean you're hanging around for one of two things; you're a secret member of the exclamation mark police force and are waiting to observe any apparent breaches of policy, or you're wondering why on earth I would choose a skinny piece of metal as my secret friend. It's not to say I don't have some fan-bloody-tastic friends of the human variety, it's just that my Ipod is always there for me, unconditionally. (And she doesn't talk back either, but that's a whole other story.)

My Ipod listens thoughtfully while I hold conversations with myself inside my head. She has the uncanny ability to spit out perfect songs for every occasion and for every random mood I happen to be in. She doesn't have stupid expectations of me and she is quite happy for me to fast forward through the boring bits and get to the juicy ones. And, unlike most friends of the human variety, she's survived falling off a treadmill, flying through the air and being tossed across the room and thudding against the wall (all by accident, of course) and she has lived to tell the tale. If there's one thing that's positive, it's her will to keep on living.

From now on, I'm going to try and be just like her. More positive. (Now don't you think it is only fair for us to christen her with a suitable name?)


A couple of months back, I stumbled across a website that rated blogs. As there are bajillions of them out there, I particularly enjoyed this one seeing as though a) The old template used to be girly and sassy and pink, and b) The reviewers seemed very likeable with constructive criticism. And I really like constructive criticism, both at work and on a personal level.

My review went live today, and my overall score was a 5. Out of 10. It was definitely... interesting... to read the comments about my blog, coming from an outsider's point of view. You can read it for yourself here. Constructive criticism and whinging (!) aside, I have to ask - is this really what my writing looks like to you? Because if it does, I think I'll gouge my own eyeballs out.

"I went to the store today! I bought some milk! They didn't
have the kind I wanted, so I got a different brand! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! "

That excerpt is what my blog writing was compared to, and it's the main part of the review that strikes a nerve with me. Anyhoo, because I like the feedback, I'm putting the question out there; Is this blog 'too young' for you? Does this particular template make your eyeballs bleed? Do I use exclamation marks with too much fervour? I'd appreciate any feedback... if my blog website isn't so unappealing that it turns you completely off, of course.

(And do you think an onslought of exclamation marks would be appropriate right about now? Woo !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

In other news, Zandria has created a post about long distance relationships on her blog which you should check out if you're interested. The fact that my thoughts on the subject are mentioned there is just an added bonus.

Now let's finish this post off with a flourish, and pretend that I am busy 'out partying with all my friends'. (Because damn, that sounds much more appealing than freezing my arse off in an old school classroom stressing about kidlet report cards.)

Oh, and because I'm all template-phobic now, I'm going back to basics. Black and white, can't go wrong with that. Or can I?

Now Say... Bananas!

Sticking with the whole 'this time last year' theme, roughly twelve months ago I was having my first ever school photographs taken with my class. Just like last year, the kidlets had to take off their jumpers and stand in the cold for their photos, spitting out words like 'monkeys!', 'bananas!' and 'spaghetti!', shivering like loons, and trying to smile all at the same time. Not such an easy task, you know.

Last year, I had one student physically removed from the class photograph, because my lovely tantrum thrower chucked a wobbly and refused to smile. That was a moment to remember.

This year, I had a whopping thirteen students turn up at school, meaning that my class is going to look insanely small in the picture. Of those thirteen, only six of them were girls. Of those thirteen, only four were in the correct school uniform. Of those thirteen, only one of them tried to climb up onto the back of the photography stairs and smack another kidlet on the back of the head.

No tantrums? Good times. Fan-bloody tastic times, in fact.

Now I'm just hoping that the end result doesn't end up quite as 'beached whale' looking as last year. That'd be just dandy.

Reports Schmapports, Revisited.

It's already that time of year again; it's officially Winter.

(No comments from you warm Northern Hemisphereans, please.)

We had a really mild Autumn here, it wasn't cold at all. Then all of a sudden there comes a cool change, and it becomes bloody impossible to get yourself out of bed in the morning because DAMN, it's cold.

(It's true, I was so warmly entangled in my bedsheets this morning that they got caught up on my foot as I stumbled out of bed, and I swear, the big toe on my right foot is broken because of it.)

But it's not only time for hot chocolates and laziness again, it's also time for our half-yearly school reports to be completed. I whined about it last year, and I'm ready to whine about it again, thanks.

Report writing is bloody hard work. There are so many areas we need to grade the kidlets on, we need to rate their efforts in each subject, describe their overall work ethic as well as writing a comment for every subject that we teach. Let me run those by you; English, Mathematics, HSIE, PDHPE, Visual Arts, Science & Technology, Dancing, Drama, Music, COGS, as well as a general overall comment.

Piece of cake. (Did someone mention cake? Mmm. Cake.)

And this year? Not only is it difficult to write positive comments for the kidlets who are struggling in an academic sense, it's difficult in another sense too. I now need to get creative and come up with new and unique comments to describe the "naughty little turds" (a direct quote from last years report card ranting!) that I haven't already used in their previous report cards. Yar! My brain! It hurts!

But what I find really interesting? At this exact same time last year, I was also recovering from a cold. Apparently the snot-germs really have an effect on me the second it turns into Winter. Fuckers.

Look Over There!

It's a giant, flying... distraction, in the form of a funny ha-ha joke.

Q. Why was the blonde staring at the orange juice container?
A. Because it said "Concentrate".

And yes, blonde jokes are perfectly acceptable on this blog. And because I find this particularly amusing. Hee.

Faulty Eyeballs and Disney Princesses.

One has to question whether their laser eye surgery recovery is progressing well, when one is at the check-out of the grocery store perusing magazines when they happen to catch a glimpse of the cashier's name badge. And subsequently does a double take, when reading said name badge and realising it says Cinderella.

One then has to question their sanity, when they spend the next few seconds staring at the cashier, wondering why in the world someone would name their daughter Cinderella. And honestly, as much as Disney movies are fabulous, couldn't her mum
have gone for something a bit more inconspicuous like Jasmine? Or
even Belle. Pocahontas would probably be pushing it, but still. Cinderella?

Ont then got to thinking that if Cinderella really was her name, surely they would change the name badge to say Cindy or something, simply to avoid the weird glances? And one then came to the conclusion that by looking at her facial features, this cashier really doesn't look like a Cinderella at all. Or even a Cindy, for that matter. That poor girl!

One eventually realises that it's about time to head home and get some sleep because this head cold really is still well and truly kicking their arse, and besides, the girl's name badge actually read Gabriella, you stupid idiot, so stop thinking before you hurt yourself, please.

Meet Ricky. (And His Teeth.)

So when you see these pictures of Lucy's new companion rabbit, he looks all innocent and squooshy and floppy, laying around all bunny-like. But don't let that calm exterior fool you. Ricky here is a biter. An
incredibly cuddly one, but a biter all the same.
Look ma, no hands! And very dirty grass stained feet. Silly wee white rabbit. You wouldn't pick him for a biter, eh? Dude. This rabbit has teeth and knows how to use 'em.

Soon, Ricky and I are taking a trip to visit my dear old friend, Mr Vet. I want to find out a) How old is he is, b) If he really is a boy (although the whole pee spraying across the room at a million miles an hour thing sort of told me that), c) Why he is biting so damn much, and d) When I can book him in to have his man-bits snipped off.

It must just be my luck; every time I rescue a bunny, they end up being crazy aggressive. All I wanted was a snuggle bunny for Lucy.

I'll keep you updated with how his progress goes. In the meantime, I'll keep on being patient and stopping Ricky from biting and/or trying to mount Lucy. They weren't like that on TV.

This squee-worthy picture was taken just before Ricky flipped around and BIT me on the jugular. Ouch.

So I mentioned Anya before, who is a character from Buffy who I think is fabulous; and she just so happens to have a phobia of bunnies, which is pretty amusing. She'd hate Ricky.

I feel it would be therefore fitting to finish this post off with a few of her lines from the musical episode 'Once More With Feeling.'

Bunnies aren't just cute like everybody supposes,
They've got them hoppy legs and twitchy little noses.
And what's with all the carrots?
What do they need such good eyesight for anyway?
Bunnies, bunnies it must be bunnies!

...or maybe midgets.

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