A couple of days ago, I was eating dinner with my parents. At eating time, you'll usually find us with our plates on trays, sitting in the aptly-named family room, watching television. Almost sounds like a stereotypical American family eating tee-vee dinners, except that we're not American and we usually cook. Anyway. Moving on.

The show which generally happens to be featured during our standard eating time is the old "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" skits. Which I absolutely adore, and could watch over and over and over again. I'm secretly in love with Wayne, Colin makes me smile and Ryan is just a big ol' smartass. It's also amusing seeing the different seasons of the show - hey look! Fat Drew! Skinny Drew! Fat! Skinny! Whee!

But, back to the other night.

We caught an episode where the gang were teasing Colin over his baldness. Again. He was just taking it all in, being very mellow, and then came out with the expression; "Lightning Rod of Hate!" Of course, it was used a couple of times in that episode, and had me giggling every time it happened. Especially since he also did a funky sort of wiggle with it, as if being zapped by electricity. Funny.

I've been a walking ball of hatefulness lately. People piss me off. Cruel idiots piss me off. The kidlets have been known to piss me off. Having no money tends to piss me off. I'm just a walking, talking pissed-off sheila. But since I have this blog to whine too, I'm not doing so badly.

So, I thought I'd do you a favour today.

I'm going to be YOUR Lightning Rod of Hate!

Feel free to bitch, moan, insult, whine, cry, stomp on (gently, please) or just plain moan to me, about anything that's on your mind. And since I'm your very own Lightning Rod of Hate, I'll zap it all up, do a little electrocution dance, forget about it, and then we'll all feel better.

(No guarantees here, folks, but it's worth a shot.)

Go on. Hate. You know you want to.

16 down; 14 to go.

It's been windy today.

Very windy.

So windy in fact, that I'm predicting a Wizard of Oz moment any second now. And the more I think about it, the more appealing it seems.

I'm sure the residents of Munchkin Land wouldn't expect me to write report comments or write up boring accreditation documents. I'd like a puppy. And I'd also like a decent pampering session, like Dorothy and the others got in the Judy Garland version of the movie.

The Wicked Witch of the West wouldn't even bother me. I think we'd get along grandly, actually. I've been feeling so snarky at my poor kidlets lately, maybe the wind is making them crazy too. I swear, I have never barked at them so much as in the last couple of days. Besides, I've already been called a "fat ugly witch" by one of the kids at school this year, so bring it on WWoftheW. I can so take you.

Oh yes. I am ABSOLUTELY up for snagging myself a new pair of sexy, red shoes while I'm at it. That Dorothy character is nuts for going back home.. to a farm! Seriously.

You know I'm grasping at straws when one post not only talks about the weather, but also about fictional children's novels. Hey, at least I'm sparing you from politics. And cuteness. No cuteness here today, folks. That will be all.

15 down; 15 to go
(HALFWAY, ZOMG!)

I know I've already posted my obligatory (and not so interesting) NaBloPoMo blog for the day, but I just saw an article that got me all riled up, and I feel a rant coming on.

(Picture steam coming out of my ears about now.)

Let me summarise the news story;

Some fucking moron hit a kangaroo with his car not too far from where I live, and then went about hitting it and injuring it with an iron pole, then leaving it for dead in the trunk of a car.

How can people be so cruel?

How, HOW can someone go so far out of their way to injure an animal like that?

It's bad enough it was hit by a car, accidents do happen. But to deliberately bash the poor creature, break it's bones, hurt it so badly, and then lock it up to die alone in distress? The poor thing was eventually put down, because of the extent of the injuries.

I am just sitting here in my own little comfort zone, imagining what that poor kangaroo was thinking while it was hurting and unable to flee. And damnit, it makes me mad.

The bastard who did this to that kangaroo should have the same thing happen to him. HOW DARE HE?

It just makes my heart ache. Why are people so cruel?

I have absolutely nothing of importance to say today.

Nothing.
Nada.
Zilch.
Didly-squat.

Except for a little bit of news;

Positive: I probably have a job next year.
Negative: I am terrified because I will be split in a million different ways and I'll be completely out of my comfort zone.

Positive: I'll learn a shitload from different teachers.
Negative: I'm worried about having three times the workload that I have now, and being an annoyance to the teachers I'll be working with.

Positive: I will get to work with classes in all different schooling years.
Negative: I won't have my own classroom, or a "home" place for me to leave all my crap.

Positive: I get to stay at the school I'm comfortable with, and NOT have to do casual work (bonus!)
Negative: I'm a paranoid freak.

So I'm happy, yes. But also worrying, because apparently, that's what I do best. And why am I feeling so emotional about everything? What the hell is wrong with me?

I'm also dying under the crapload of things I have to do by the end of the school year.

There are only 28 working days left. That's it! 28 days!

And while that is really awesome because (say it with me now) HOLIDAYS, it's also scary because I have so. much. to. do.

This trip to New Zealand couldn't come any faster!

14 days; 16 to go!

Have had a draining sort of day; I started early, started late and then received news that is sort of good and sort of disappointing all at the same time. I'm not in the mood to talk about that right now, so instead I shall distract you with some interesting visitor links from the past couple of days.

Sit back and enjoy!

A Night Mask.

Not sure what kind of mask you're looking for here; the only mask I remember writing about was the Purple People Eater one that I made for my class assembly item last term. Sure sounds intriguing though, and strangely exotic, doesn't it? Hee. Night Mask. *nudge* I'm sure some of my blog readers would like to meet Lick Nachey with a Night Mask on.

Bunny Loving.

Please let this be a search for happy, cheery, bunny loving of a non-disgusting nature, because otherwise I may have to get all fired up on your ass. Seriously; some people can be so gross. Ahem.

EzyDVD.

I am not writing bad things about EzyDVD again, because they were nice to me after the whole locked DVD incident, and I am currently awaiting the discounted CSI: Season 4 boxset to arrive in my post box. Flowers and sunshine, folks, it's all flowers and sunshine from here on in.

Fragonard Paris - Fantasque.

Only my all-time favourite perfume in the whole wide world. If you're wanting to buy me a Christmas present this year, I'd go with a bottle of this (or the entire collection of X-Files DVDs, but you know, I'm not fussy at all). I was pretend-buying at the Fragonard website the other day, and when converted from Euro dollars to Australian dollars, two measly bottles of oh-so-delicious perfume were going to cost me $200. Um. I didn't proceed to the checkout, if you know what I mean.

Strengths and Weaknesses of Garnier Shampoo.

Dude, that's one in depth google search right there. I cannot stand Garnier shampoo, it turns my hair to oily clumps of oiliness (did I mention how disgustingly oily it makes my hair?) and I run away from it. Plus them and their stupid WOO-WOO ads, and their stupid gorgeous hair models make me want to punch myself in the face. Go and buy Schwartzkopf. It's much nicer. And smells better too.

Ouchy Headache.

Poor baby! Ouchy headaches are no good. Want me to kiss it better? Hey, this probably isn't the best place to seek help about ouchy headaches - you're talking to the girl who mixes Panadol and Nurofen to get rid of them. Tsk Tsk.

Smush-Fest.

This is possibly the cutest blog search ever. It's got me thinking back over the past couple of months wondering when I actually used the words "smush" and "fest" in a blog entry. I must be cheesier than I thought! Whatever. As long as there is no bondage involved in this smush-fest, I'm down with that.

Cowboy gets big Molar yanked.

(Blink.)

That was it. And whilst the smush-fest search had me searching back through my archives chuckling, this one saw my eyebrows disappear into my hairline. Perhaps google likes to shove my words together? I've mentioned cowboys (yee-haw!), I've mentioned molars (the evil dental blog episodes), and I've possibly mentioned the word "yanked" in here somewhere. But put together? Sorry, can't help you. Excuse me while I back away. Slowly.

Inviting Cousins to my Wedding.

Obviously someone has a death wish if they're considering consulting me about the perils of inviting cousins to your wedding. Okay. Deep breaths, Aly. This is a special message to you, oh innocent wedding planner who stumbled across this blog.

INVITE YOUR DAMN COUSINS.
IT DOES NOT MATTER IF YOU LIKE THEM.
THEY ARE FAMILY.
IT HURTS THEIR FEELINGS WHEN THEY ARE NOT INVITED.
AND THEY WILL BE FORCED TO RANT ON THEIR BLOG ABOUT YOU FOR WEEKS ON END, SHOULD YOU NOT INVITE THEM.
SO INVITE THEM, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS MATRIMONIAL.
BECAUSE EVEN THOUGH YOU ARE NOT BEST FRIENDS WITH THEM.
THEY WILL STILL COME AND CELEBRATE AND EAT TACKY, LAME DONUT CAKE WITH YOU.
THE END.

13 down; 17 to go.

Since the news that we got into our Contiki tour for New Zealand this summer, I have been completely and utterly loony with joy very excited. Obviously. I mean, what could be nicer than a holiday with Jase, visiting somewhere that I've wanted to see for years, with the added bonus of meeting new people, adventure sports which will terrify me and of course, alcohol?

Surprisingly, I'm rather mellow about this next trip.

Why is this surprising, you may wonder? Because when I went to Europe a couple of years ago, I was a panicking, whining pack of nerves who was possibly the most annoying travelling partner you could find. And I'm NOT exaggerating.

(I think it was to be expected though; I was only just 19, it was my first time travelling semi-alone (Jason was there, but he didn't count, because I was still terrified), I was going to a dozen foreign countries, there were fifteen thousand things I needed to do and see and experience and OMG! Stress!)

I'll always remember my first day in Paris, where we had the entire day to ourselves to do what we pleased. I had a massive mental list of things I just HAD to see while I was there, and subsequently turned into a full-blown slightly maniacal freak.

Let me give you an example;

Where is the Notre Damn, Jason? Why the heck are there six dozen Notre Dame Cathedrals in Paris anyway? And why doesn't the Metro take us straight to the HUNCHBACK one? I don't want to see the small ones! I WANT TO SEE THE HUNCHBACK ONE! We're never going to get home! Help! We're lost! We need to meet the tour at 5pm! It'll be closed when we get there! Jason!  You've been here before, how can you not find the bloody Notre Damn Cathedral? Wah Wah Wah.

I suppose it was justified when I eventually recieved the "Just fuck off and leave me alone!" response, after harrassing him again at yet another tourist map on the streets of Paris.

This time around though, I'm giving Jase permission to push me off a canyon without a bungy harness if I start to get irritating. Better still, I might just throw MYSELF off a canyon without a bungy harness, to save everyone else the trouble.

I'm sure that won't be necessary, though...

(crickets chirp)

IT WON'T!

12 down; 18 to go!

Never!

Because I am enjoying a relaxing Saturday morning and absolutely nothing of interest has happened so far today (apart from waking up, having a cup of tea, biting Jason a few times and staying in my pyjamas, that is), I have decided to treat you to a random photo blog.

I actually had this idea ready and waiting (with inspiration by Aimee a few weeks ago), but never found time to post it. You might know of it; the standard "What's in your handbag right now?" blog post. Except, I changed handbags since I took the photo, so I will have to start you off with a link.


This is my current new handbag.

And yes! Look closely, and you'll see I only paid $10.95 for it! Bargain, eh?

As for what's inside the new bag? Let's take a peep.

My old handbag was replaced because it liked to eat things once they were put inside it, resulting in frustration. Lots of frustration. It's been banished into the kingdom of Cupboard, until it decides to behave itself.

We have some Elizabeth Arden eyeshadow (I love them, but they're so sheer you can barely see them!), some deoderant, my toll pass, old Covergirl powder foundation, a Lipsmacker AND a Chapstick, some cheap Avon mascara and a lip moisturiser. It's sad considering that this gets used maybe, once every two months? Shame.

Onto the messier things in my bag; We have a couple of pens, some Avon vanilla body spray, my whistle (for coaching and refereeing the Newcombeball team), my Contours gym membership barcode, and my school classroom keys. No wonder my bag is heavy!

Aha! Now for the main part! You'll see my wallet (snazzy and red, complete with Jason picture which is blocked out for some reason - notice it looks empty? Hee), my Contact solution (I wake up with dry eyes every damn morning), another pen, my mobile phone, our garage door opener, my sexy sunglasses, a pretty Maybelline lipgloss, my house keys, my car keys AND my Ipod. Phew.

I envy all you people with cute, small bags. My obsession with leaving things behind always makes me go for big bags. Aside from the makeup, everything I have photographed are things I NEED. How the heck do guys just go out with a wallet and mobile phone? It's very, very puzzling.

Hope your weekend goes splendidly, and hoorah for Janet and Andrew, who are in Mexico as we speak, preparing for their wedding! Congratulations for tomorrow!

11 down; 19 to go!

I told my kidlets at swim school today to burn and teeth.

Let me just give you a second to digest that.

....

BURN AND TEETH! OMG!

Before you start calling the authorities on me, let me just remind you that I have the speech capacity of a spoon.

I really don't want the kidlets to start teething. I'm sure their parents wouldn't enjoy 8-12 year olds beginning that lovely phase of toddlerhood all over again. And I CERTAINLY don't want them to burn, as noisy as they are some days, I'm not quite as nasty as that.

What I really meant to say?

Turn and breathe.

We were learning freestyle, damnit. Or at least attempting to learn freestyle. Of the two kids who were actually listening and heard me say it, one had a chuckle and the other just stared at me blankly. The rest? Completely missed it. Thank goodness!

(This is one thing I'd rather not have to bring up at any parent teacher interviews.)

In other random news; here's a snippet of a conversation I had with my class today, after them asking who their teacher would be next year. Things like this always make me smile, even after a hot day of swimming. And burning. And teething.

R: "Who will be the Year 2 teacher next year?"
Me: "I'm not sure, Mr S. is in charge of making all the classes work."
R: "So will you be our teacher?"
Me: "Probably not, R. There are lots of teachers you could have, though!"
R: "But which class will you have?"
Me: "I really don't know, chook. I might even be at a different school next year! We'll have to wait and see."
((pause))
R: "You know, I'll really miss you when you go."

Bless!

Of course, nothing in the classroom is sacred, so the rest of the class were eavesdropping that whole conversation. In the last hour of the day, I recieved some lovely tokens of appreciation.

1 cat picture.
5 cards.
4 scribbled messages: "Your the best techr ever!"
And 4 paper octopus(es): "Don't wiggle, be happy!"

And when I think about it?

I'm really going to miss those kidlets next year.

10 down; 20 to go!

... You guys rock!

I have never had 15 comments on one entry before. Never! In fact, I don't think I've even come close. Apparently you are all freaks of nature too, what with our lacking speech abilities and all.

Join me now, as we have a virtual bloggers (NaBloPoMo and NON-NaBloPoMo combined!) group hug. Fwee. Don't you feel the love? Thanks so much for making my day.

(And I'm glad most people thought the donut cake was the cheesiest of all things cheese. Or should I say, the donutiest of all things donut? What the heck ever. Lame. And they are lame. And their wedding was lame. And their futures together shall be lame. LAME.

But now I have to ask; do you remember the car?

The car I dreamt about for ages?
The brand new car I bought this year, complete with brand new car smell?
The car that the idiotic P-plate driver ran into in the shopping centre last month?
The car that seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth while the insurance company and smash repairer took a trip to Mars? (or something.)

Well. It's finally sitting in my driveway! A brief and boring rundown of the last few days will now be written with absolutely no full stops, so take one hell of a deep breath and onwards ye shall read;

I had a sick day on Monday so I decided to pick the car up from the smash repairers and so I did just that and as I was driving home with no radio because the battery had been reset while they were doing work on it (and omg it sucked driving home with no radio suckity suck suck) and because it was insanely quiet I could hear every noise the car was making and it was making an awful lot of noises and it shouldn't be making noises because hello! new car! so anyway I took it home and made my dad drive it and he agreed with my completely non-qualified judgement that there was a weird noise when the car accelerated or slowed down or turned corners (so basically whenever it actually was DRIVEN at all) and when he was checking it out he also found a dent in the roof of the car which had me go into fits of extreme anger and rage because I already have enough fucking dents in a six month old car including a random person opening their door on me (fuckers) and my brother who has put a scratch in it from his studded belt (again, fuckers) so one more dent just may kill me and so we rang them and dropped it back and rang again and ta-dah! it was ready so back we went again today to pick it up and it is fixed now and I am happy and I will personally hunt down and kill the next person who even THINKS about driving too close to me.

Deep breaths, people. Deep breaths.

And exclamation points totally do not count as breathing spaces, alright?

The most important thing?

I have the car.
It has no funny noises.
It has no dent in the roof.
And I am a happy Aly.
The end.

(Let's see you beat 15 comments on this one!)

Have you ever tried to say something, but the words come out completely wrong? (Damnit, now I have that old Brandy song in my head. Shit! Get it out! Help!)

And I don't mean the above question in a deep and meaningful sort of way (ha!) but literally, when words come out the wrong way.

I think there's something wrong with me.

Everytime I open my mouth lately, I end up completely stuffing up whatever I was going to say. And making myself snort with laughter too, but that's beside the point.

In the past, I've always muddled some words up, but lately? I think I'm going crazy. I've noticed myself slipping up constantly! I can't even remember all of the stuff-ups I've done, but here are just a couple from the past week. I'll endeavour to remember some more, so you can see how wired my brain is right now.

(The items in bold are what I actually said, the latter is what I was SUPPOSED to be saying, sheesh. I feel all muddled up again just looking at it!)

Chap and Cleer. (Clap and Cheer)
Dackup Bancers. (Backup Dancers)
Tot Norking. (Not Talking)

And the classic?

Lick Nachey. (Otherwise known as Nick Lachey.) Hee. Lick Nachey. Say it with me now. LICK NACHEY. It sounds like his 'naughty' name, if you know what I mean.

Got any other doozies to add to my list?

And to distract anyone who is completely lost from this post, here is a link to the donut cake from the wedding rant a couple days ago. DONUTS. Ha. Cheap. Cheap and whorish. Bastards. But I'm totally over it now. Totally. Cough.

8 down; 22 to go!