The Toddler and the Sea

Mum told me a story over the weekend which I had never heard before, which I think succinctly summarises what sort of child I was, and what sort of an adult I have become.

When I was 4 years old, I accompanied my Mum, her friend and my brother (13 at the time) on a cruise over Christmas.

I have a few vague memories of this time, and a few more vivid home videos.

Memories include: using a Minnie Mouse lip gloss I was given for Christmas as perfume (I smeared it all over my ears and wrists) and being unable to properly align the cotton balls I was gluing onto a paper Santa Clause face in day care, and still thinking the finished product was the absolute tits.

Home movie evidence shows: requesting my stuffed Jemima Puddle Duck toy sing and dance for the camera, and becoming incensed when she did not. Taking over when Jemima would not co-operate and singing Christmas Carols myself in the hallways of the ship cabins, only to fall silent whenever somebody stopped to listen; and wearing a homemade ‘flower’ costume for a children’s dress-up parade, which I lost (because I looked more like a psychedelic lion than a flower).

This incident, thankfully, was not captured on film. It was recalled with near perfect clarity by my mother. 

My mum’s friend was a children’s clothing designer. She had constructed the psychedelic lion flower costume I mentioned earlier, and she had made me several dresses and bits and pieces which I was not always a fan of as a child. My personal 4 year old style had more a fluoro-pink-taffeta-shorts-or-nothing kind of attitude to it.  

Specifically for this cruise, in addition to a few other pieces, she had made me a bikini. After a day of swimming in the deck pool, being partially drowned by my brother and just generally disturbing the peace, mum decided we should head back to the cabin to shower and change. Mum, her friend and my brother headed off with me in tow.

At some point, mum turned around to check that I was still following her like a good little duckling, and I was, just waddling along behind the rest of the group ........only suddenly I was stark naked.

“Where’s your bikini!?” Mum cried

“I threw it over the edge mum.” I replied matter-of-factly. 

“Why did you do that?!”

“I felt like it.” No hint of remorse. 

And I continued to pad along the deck, nude, having gifted my handmade-with-love bikini to the sea, and evidently quite happy with my decision. I wasn't trying to be rude, or ungrateful or bratty. I just wanted to see what it would be like if I took off my bikini and hurled it into the ocean from a moving luxury liner.

I wish I remembered the feeling, because I think it would be much less acceptable behaviour for an adult.

My main question is, why did no other passenger stop me? Surely someone would have noticed a 4 year old disrobing in the middle of the pool deck, running up to the side of the ship and setting their swimwear free over the edge?

I can only imagine it was the look of fierce determination on my little toddler face which dissuaded them from trying to keep me from my life’s mission.

But as I said, I think this story pretty well sums me up as a person on the whole. When I do stupid things I’m not trying to be bratty or rude or ungrateful…I just want to see what would happen if…

Plus I don't like wearing pants.

I’m out there every day asking the big important questions. Scientific mind. 

Let’s call it that. 

The Gadget Murderer

I love technology. My eyes light up watching the latest gadget I've procured illuminate with pretty moving colours and soothing space aged start-up music.

But I don’t look after my technological gadgets, and because of this, I feel the machines have finally started to make their move against me. The end is near.

I have been blacklisted by my entertainment systems, communication devices and portable work consoles for being careless in my efforts to maintain their well-being.

I am careless with my belongings.

I break things.

Hulk smash.

Maybe it’s because the first mobile phone I ever owned could survive a teenage girl throwing it directly at the tiled kitchen floors in a fit of rage over a text message. How silly is that? I can’t even remember what it said. (I remember exactly what it said. Fuck you Karen, you bitch.)

Or maybe it’s because I've never owned anything of significant value that I haven’t bought and paid for myself, and I therefore feel some kind of entitlement to destroy it, along with the money I spent, as I see fit. Now watch me flush this Tamagotchi down the toilet (true story).

Or maybe I have spoiled myself with my technological gadgetry and now subconsciously seek to arrange the demise of my computerised minions earlier than their intended expiration date as some kind of justification to purchase the NEW version of the gadget without feeling guilty. “I NEED a new one…my old one just fell to pieces…after being subjected to multiple beatings in the bottom of my gym bag under some weights I just happen to carry around”

I like to think it is not the latter, both to reassure myself that I am not a psychopath and serial purposeful gadget murderer, and because the last gadget I broke was the latest up-to-date model of a phone of which there were no viable upgrades on the horizon.

Right now I am writing this on a tablet on a train. Not because inspiration to write struck me or I felt the need to warn the world of my murderous tendencies towards anything more technical than a calculator (who am I kidding, I have broken several calculators), but because it appears the headphone jack on the tablet is broken, and I can’t watch my stories.

I’m only at this point now because I have finished the book I loaded onto my E-Reader before leaving home and am too fussy to pick another one without first reading several reviews on its literary quality from internet people I don’t know.

I can’t read any reviews on these books from these people who live in the internet because my phone is broken and I don’t have access. 

I DON’T HAVE INTERNET ACCESS. Trying not to panic.

I may have panicked a little.

The E-Reader itself is a recent upgrade and/or replacement of the older model which I managed to break by carrying around in my bag with no case. Bottle of wine vs. unprotected e-reader…..you already know who won.

It wasn't even good wine. $10 Moscato vs $120 gadget.

Ha, nah you’re right, it was still good wine.

Can they just start building these things with covers? That would really help me out a lot.

The gadgets, not the wine. I imagine if the made wine bottles indestructible bad things would happen. I’m not sure what bad things exactly, but I imagine it would have something to do with turtles.

And I know I know, the evil techno giants (incidentally my future DJ name) want my money so they make things smash-able and shatter-able and with a shelf life shorter than spring onions (quite literally, I had spring onions in my fridge for longer than I had this new phone.) so they’re not going to make a tougher version of my fancy pants phone which has a screen too big to fit in to any type of fancy pants pocket.

But a girl can dream.

I don’t dream much.

The last one I had had something to do with a me triumphing gloriously over someone I was upset with and I woke  up sad to realise that was not the case in reality. In reality, I was sitting in bed with a laptop that must be plugged in at all times because the battery is dead, a tablet with a broken headphone jack, a phone which doesn't work – at all, and an e-reader with no books on it.

My iPod shuffle is still in remarkably good condition. This is likely because it is the only item I have mentioned which was purchased for me as a birthday gift from my best friend about 8 years ago. I tend to take care of the shit other people give me.

It’s also small enough that me dropping it or throwing it in the bottom of a sweaty and weight filled gym bag has no effect.

What I’m getting at here is, please will someone buy me some new technology. I have exhausted my gadget budget and have already managed to break all the things I spent it on.

The great migration

So I've started this new blog.

I hope to update regularly.

I probably will not.


I've moved across all my old blog posts from the Ramblex, since I know how popular they were ...*cough*...where did that tumble weed come from? I live in the inner suburbs.

Just FYI, they have not been spell or grammar checked.

Anything below this post was written circa 2012-2013. Anything above this post was probably written in an alcohol fueled rage.

Just kidding. I don't need any kind of substance to fuel my rage.

Louie - Water Cat

My cat has a weird obsession with water. I'm torn between thinking he is some kind of genius aqua cat philosopher, constantly pondering the fickle nature of our greatest and most life giving-est resource.... or slightly retarded.

On a daily basis he repeats the same water related activities for changing periods of time and intensity.

The most damaging behaviour is when he scoops water out of his bowl with his paws and just tips it on the floor. For no reason. No reason at all! Then he just walks away, his floor destroying, flood damage inducing mission complete.
The most concerning habit is watching wet face washers dry. He will sit there for....I don't even know how long actually, because I get bored of watching him before he gets bored of watching the washers....just staring at the washer I have just used to scrub my face hanging on the towel rail, occasionally dripping little aquatic droplets of his obsession onto the floor. He won't chase the droplets though, he will just watch.

He saves the chasing of water droplets for when I am taking a shower, and with no concern for modesty will plaster himself to the outside of the glass door, diving to the floor when he spies a particularly enticing raindrop leave his field of vision.

He has also picked up the annoying habit of meowing bloody murder if I don't open the door for him to go in and investigate the remaining shower floor and wall water after I finish showering.

Louie's increasing level of comfort around me has meant more and more of his quirks have come to light. And let me tell you, he is weird. Aside from his strange fascination with water, he steals my socks - picks them up off the floor and hides them under the couch, he lies over the back and arm rests of chairs and couches - as in with his head on one side and his ass on the other, and will stay that way for hours, he tries to eat both my pant legs and my hair, and he eats his food with his 'hands' - by this I mean he has never just eaten out of his bowl, he will pick up individual pieces of dry food, or chunks of wet food with his paw and then eat it out of his hand. He is the weirdest cat I have ever owned, and I seem to attract weird cats as a rule. (Including Mistchet, who allowed me to dress her up in dolls clothes, push her in a pram and feed her from a bottle with no complaint [I was 7 at the time]; Duckie, who will become completely disabled if you lay her on her back, and has a habit of collapsing on the floor in front of your feet to get your attention, and Spooky, who managed to remove every single collar ever put on her, and proceed to capture possums and set them free in the house.)

I have illustrated some of Louie's aforementioned daily water rituals below (extremely poorly), and included some actual photos of his shower exploration. Enjoy.

Updated to include this picture I just snapped of Louie doing the face washer watching thing:

Egg Chair

Auto correct and a drunk me don't mix. Apparently my phone also has the ability to produce drawings in text messages that drunk me obviously stumbled across and then couldn't get rid of. Unless that's meant to be an extremely detailed floor plan of the night club indicating my location relative to Jodie's.

On Hold with Optus

Was just cleaning up the icons on my laptops desktop, and came across a notepad document which I had completely forgotten about. Opened it up and found an epic rant I barely remember writing about 4 months ago. I think it's pretty self explanatory. If you can make it through reading it....it be LONNNNGGGG!
That should give you a pretty good scope of the amount of time I was on hold for actually. 



So I've already been on hold to Optus for about 15 mins. In that time I've played 3 games of spider solitaire on my computer and now my eyes are starting to go cross eyed so I figured I'd move on to something else.
I'm on hold because I called to get them to set up my new internet connection, which I was assured was a simple self installation job. After attempting the set up multiple times I gave up and Googled the help number on my phone, which promptly died, so had to wait for it to charge to call them.

Although I did find it interesting, in an "you are all idiots" kind of way, that the letter I got with my new modem/router said for troubleshooting advice go to the website.

Number 1) I need troubleshooting advice for the fact that I cannot connect to the internet, you jackasses. So just to add insult to injury you put the help tips on the internet where I cannot access them. Putting aside phone internet, what if I had no phone signal? What if I was over my download limit on my phone?

I had to Google the number for the phone help line! Do they not see the issue with this? No Internet = No Help but No Help = No Internet.

Number 2) The "Help" on the website was literally the same booklet they had included with the router, only in adobe document format. Again, you jackasses. Why would I want the identical information I already have, only at the cost of wasting my mobile data to download it?

Now at this point, I have been on hold for another 8 minutes since I started typing. And I need to poop.
I think I'm going to poop. Maybe the awkwardness of the situation will make them more likely to answer the damn phone. Things usually work out that way for me.

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


Have pooped and returned. Still no word from t................


WHAT THE FUCK!

On hold for a total of 30 minutes with no word, and then an electronic voice comes over the phone and says "The Optus service center you have called is currently closed. Please call back tomorrow"

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

I CALLED A 24 HOUR LINE YOU FUCKERS!

And what did the people do, palm me off to another office who then put me on hold til they closed so they didn't have to take my call?

FUCK YOU OPTUS!
EPIC RAGE!

Now have had to call them AGAIN! And have to be put through the punishment of listening to their hold music, which I'm fairly certain was developed initially as some form of psychological warfare weapon system.
There's one tune that sounds like something from James Bond, only much much creepier. Like if James bond was a secret agent ghost or something.
And then the one that comes after that is like some overly happy 80's shit with an electronic organ playing beneath what can only be described as the highest pitch whistle it is possible for the human ear to decipher. It may even go higher than that pitch, I don't know, to my knowledge there are no dogs in my apartment building.If there were they would surely be howling the fucking place down right now.

10 minutes and counting on hold this second time. Now it's a song that started off like a weak version of the power rangers theme song and has gone into some soul singer singing "everything will be alright yeah yeah" over and over again.

No sad soul singer, not everything will be alright. Your career for one thing, is never going to be alright. If you have to sing a song to be used as hold music, nothing is going to be alright for you as a singer. Especially for Optus customers. You're voice has become the voice of evil. The voice that signifies being put on hold for half an hour and then hung up on. You're going to trigger some serious 'Nam-esc flashbacks if I ever hear your voice outside of this phone call.
You should probably give up singing and move to Iceland. I'm less likely to hunt you down and take vengeance against you for your crimes against humanity if you are in Iceland.

Less likely, but not totally unlikely. If I were you I would start running.


RUN.


Good thing I don't value my time or anything. I like being on hold for an hour when there's nothing to do at my place since I have no internet, no games, can't use the phone because it's busy playing me brain melting subliminal message songs, and can't watch TV as I've only managed to get the SBS channels working so far.



DAY TWO

Called Optus again, am on hold again, the time is now 6:00pm exactly on Tuesday. Let's see how we go today.

More torturous hold music, coupled with unbearable static and distortion from what I presume is both the quality of the music and the quality of my phone load speaker.
This music is making me feel like I'm in a waiting room some where with 8 other sad and tired people
where they are playing this horribly happy trumpet music to try and cheer up the poor bastards stuck there. But on the other side of the doors is the lethal injection. So the music is just a macabre insult really.

Wow. Took a dark turn there for a minute.

Oh look someone answered, 8 minutes later. Then said "I'm transferring you to someone else". Have been transferred to the someone else who then once again put me on hold.

2 minutes and counting for this second hold.

After 5 minutes, he is back! And asks if the internet and DSL lights are on on my modem/router.

The answer is no, neither of them are. And his response is "Well you need those to be on otherwise there is no internet connection"

Thanks captain obvious. Not like I called you because I couldn't get that to happen now was it? I just called for a chat. A deep bonding session with your hold music, who has now become my most hated adversary.

Oh good, after another 5 minutes on hold I am told the same thing I was last night, that I will be called back in 5-10 mins when they have talked to a technician.

I call bullshit. I call bullshit on this whole operation people! SHENANIGANS!

My warning to you all:

Get out! Get out while you still can! If you are considering Optus for your internet DON'T DO IT! I BEG OF YOU! RUN, RUN WHILE YOU STILL HAVE MOVEMENT IN YOUR LEGS
BEFORE THEY GO ALL PINS AND NEEDLES FROM BEING IN THE SAME POSITION IN FRONT OF THE COMPUTER WAITING FOR THE HOLD MUSIC TO ENDD!!!!!

Was called back over an hour later, and am now on hold again. I am starting to hate all humans.

Life with Louie the Cat

Motivation Deprivation

Motivation strikes me at the most useless times.
I'm sure I'm not alone in this.

It always seems to be at it's most powerful when I myself am powerless to act on it.
Or, in situations where it would've been more useful 15 minutes earlier.

For example, half way through eating a triple chocolate chip muffin I just paid $5 for.
Two bites in and I'll go, NO! You know what! I want to be healthy! I'm not going to eat any more of this muffin!........................well that was a waste of $5. Repeat every Wednesday, indefinitely.


Or walking home and I'll decide to go to the gym.....when I've already passed it. "I'll do it, I'll go to the gym!......Damnit. I'll go next time."

Almost precisely like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AIhDFL6jdyU  (but much better quality)

Then of course there's those times you see all the things you need to do to fix your life with sudden clarity. How to be happy, be fit, save money AND own each of those 7 pairs of nearly identical shoes. But this sudden clarity and motivation hits me either when I'm in the shower, which I'm convinced has some kind of magical properties to it's water to induce these epiphanies, because as soon as I step out of said shower and dry myself I've forgotten everything I just meticulously planned for my future happiness and prosperity, and slipped back to reality and away from Nirvana and enlightenment, OR when I am laying in bed on the brink of sleep. So much motivation to do ALL OF THE THINGS when I am trying to sleep. But of course, daylight comes, alarms sound (repeatedly for at least half an hour before I actually get up), and motivation has evaporated along with any attractive qualities my face may have retained up until sleep took me for it's bitch. (I wake up every morning looking like a cross between a panda that's been through a hurricane, and Mr Burns)

So, motivation is gone and inevitably I end up with the 7 pairs of nearly identical shoes but none of the rest. Including food, as I have undoubtedly spent my food money on hilarious outfits for my cat.

I find motivation also works to a weekly schedule for me. As outlined briefly in this comment I sent earlier to Jodie:

"Usually I keep my place pretty clean from Saturday through Thursday. By Thursday night I'm pretty tired and cbf washing up or putting shit away. Then I live in relative squalor until Saturday when I clean up everything. 
This week however, this week is different. It is Monday, and I already cbf cleaning anything. I have been sitting on my couch since 6pm only getting up once to microwave a potato. 
I'm hoping this is just an off week, because otherwise this #singlelife thing is going too far. By Saturday you'll probably find me flat out on the carpet watching old South Park episodes surrounded by empty tic tac boxes and bread crusts."


It's like my brain is split into two distinct personalities - a really enthusiastic, motivated, happy brain who thinks I can do anything, and the much, much more powerful lazy shit of a brain who always knows the exact thing to say to win out over motivation brain.

"Gym! Let's go to the gym! We'll feel so much better once we run and then when we get home we can eat some delicious turkey and vegetables! Healthy and fit! Woo!"

"Ok, yes that's a good idea, OR...and hear me out here....OR...we could not do that."

"But...healthy!"

"Yes...but couch."

Reasons I think I'm old beyond my years

Now, normally that saying is 'wise beyond your years', but that's not so in my case. I am just old beyond my years - only 23 but with the characteristics of someone around the age of 60. Not just a regular 60 year old either. One of the grumpy ones who yells at children to get off the lawn. 10 reasons pertaining to this revelation are the following:

1) I regularly either think or utter the phrase "Stupid kids."
2) I actively avoid going outside between the hours of 3pm and 4pm on weekdays so as to avoid school children returning home.
3) I have been waking up at 8am on Saturdays and Sundays. And actually getting out of bed. And not being tired.
4) Then, around 4pm I start to get drowsy and need a caffeine kick.
5) I am choosing, without coercion, to buy home wares and furniture over clothing and shoes.
6) I've started to actually enjoy watching home improvement shows
7) I can make a quiche...without a recipe
8) New technology is no longer exciting, it is frightening and confusing.
9) I have been to a night club once in the last 4 months, and I hated it.
10) If I don't write something down, it is immediately forgotten. Not only do I need to write it down though, I have to write it down and set an alarm to alert me to look at the note at an appropriate time to take action.

I'm pretty sure that last one is some kind of early onset dementia. I will write notes on my hand, and then forget to look at my hand. Then I'll go to shower and see it there and think oh shit I forgot, never mind I'll do it when I get out of the shower. Then of course, I wash the pen off my hand, get out of the shower and have completely forgotten there was ever something I was meant to do! Especially something so important that it required me temporarily tattooing my hands with blue ink.

I'm pretty sure I also drink more milk than should be legally allowable for a human being to consume.
I'm not sure if that's an elderly thing, but it's probably not helping since everyone else my age drinks soft drink.

As I write this, I am sitting in my dressing gown, on the couch on a Sunday morning, considering walking down to pick up a Sunday news paper just so I can do the crossword and Sudoku.
Speaking of which, reminds me that I am the only person under the age of 60 that does the Sudoku in the MX paper on the train ride home after work. The only other people I've seen actually take out a pen and attempt the puzzles on the train are men with white hair, brown shoes and briefcases that I'm fairly sure would fetch a pretty penny at an antique market.

So I'll leave you with my sad elderly lady confessional, and go and get a coffee and the paper. If you relate to any of this, I'm truly sorry. Maybe we could start a club? We could all learn Mahjong together and complain about today's youth. (Do you realise I was born before the internet was commercially available? Today's kids won't even have to ask their parents where babies come from. They can ask Google instead. Not Jeeves though. Fuck Jeeves, he was always the worst search engine.)

Fat Superhero Friday

Fridays are notoriously dull in the later afternoons at my workplace. Everyone has gone home, the phone's not ringing, and there is no work left to do, but as a receptionist you have to stay 'til the very end. Like the people that went down with the Titanic, except much less tragic, and nothing to do with a ship. 

So this is the fruit of one such afternoon, Fat Superheros. I drew Batman first, and never actually intended for him to be fat, but when he came out chubby I rolled with it (pun intended). I can't draw to save myself so generally I just have to draw first and then decided on intention later. Whenever I think, I'm going to draw 'THIS', it inevitably ends up looking more like 'THAT', or more accurately, like nothing at all. But here they are for your perusal, happy Fat Superhero Friday! (They're drawn on my reception messages pad by the way, hence the name, calling for, etc...that's not just part of the drawing...)

Post No. 2

So in an effort to keep this up, here is post number two. It feels like it's snowballing out of control! First one post, then a second? Watch out blog-o-sphere, there's a new contender for queen of the internet!

....sadly, it's not myself. I imagine the queen of the internet would be someone like Jenna Marbles or possibly Mila Kunis. And Mila Kunis wouldn't even have to do anything to be queen of the internet, someone else would upload her pictures and BAM, the queen is crowned. 

I have absolutely no topic for this post other than my own inane ramblings. Better out then in eh? Well no that's not strictly true I suppose. Organs, for the most part, are most definitely better in. And probably some blogs, including this one. Oh well too late now.

In my quest to create this blog however, I have realised my own technological downfalls. I'm not as computer savvy as I thought I was. Which I don't understand. Surely if celebrities can figure out Twitter I can too?! Or is it something you have to be capable of 'Writin lyk dis' to grasp the concept of? Seriously I don't get it. Although admittedly I do enjoy the tweets of Will Farrell....when someone else screen shots them and posts them on Facebook, because I DON'T GET TWITTER!

Swiftly moving back to my original point, assuming I had one...something about technology....? Oh right. When I decided to start this blog, I went on a quest to find the most user friendly and accessible blogging website available. (By user friendly I mean impossible to fuck up, and featuring a formidable spell check, and by accessible I mean doesn't require a URL 1,374 characters long...you know the ones....http://www.blogwebsite.co.country.internet.streslecki/australiaisatthebottomoftheworld/howisanyonegoingtofindthisblogever?haha,hahatheywon'tyou'rewastingyourtime/alexsblog.com.au)...(and by quest I mean typed blog website into Google)

I settled on this one, for not much more reason then it was the first link. (I gave up on the user friendly and accessibly quest pretty much straight away.) Convenient Google...considering it is a part of your Google plus scheme....preying on the lazy ones I see. 
I wrote my first blog post, but was off Facebook at the time so had no conceivable plan of how to share it with anyone, not that it was worth sharing anyway, and so just let it mellow.

Not only that, but I tried to adjust the information on my profile and I couldn't even figure out how to change my photo. Now the optimist in me says that maybe there was a bug in the system that day and when I came back this evening to write a second post it had been miraculously fixed and allowed me to update some of my profile information, however the pessimist in me (which more often than not is the most accurate in these presumptions) says that a 4 year old could have changed my entire profile with one click of a completely unrelated device like a calculator or a banana or something and then looked at me as if I was a 106 year old with a learning disability. 

Smug little bastard.

I'm still not convinced I've figured it out. In fact, I'm positively certain that I haven't got a clue, but I'm going to attempt it, in the true insanity spirit that I hold so dear (trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results).

And so concludes my second post, in which I have said absolutely nothing and wasted precious seconds...minutes...? of your internet life.

Someday, maybe I'll have something interesting to say and I will post about it and it will be glorious!

But probably not, and I'll resign myself to blogging drivel about nothing. 

It's like the Seinfeld of blogs, except with fewer pink shirts, baggy jeans and sneaker combos. And less money. Much less money.

So, I've decided to start a blog.

It took little to no thought, and the probability that I will keep up posts at a regular pace is slim, but Facebook only allows so many characters, and I can imagine the masses get sick of my out of control posting sprees expressing my dislike and frustration about anything and everything overtaking their news feeds.

That and I have a new laptop with a really good keyboard and it is satisfying to type on. Typety type type. Typing on they keyboard!

Eh hem. 

Anyway this will now be the home for all of my ramblings and inane chatter between the left and right sides of my brain. And should anything exciting happen to me (unlikely) I will document it here. There is no theme to my blog, no topic off limit. So don't expect uniformity or stability. Don't expect anything, that way you won't be disappointed, also you'll be pleasantly surprised should something nice happen. Advice from a pessimist, take it.