Thermomix - Is it all that and a bag of chips? (PM)

All I know is that I want a bag of chips!

Thermomix is definitely awesome and would last longer than chips, but at two large, it definitely needs to be able to make chips to make me reach for my wallet.

Thermomix - is it all that and a bag of chips? (AM)

Remember a few months ago I told you that Primadonna went to a Thermomix demonstration and that machine sounded mindblowing and I desperately wanted to see one in action. Well I did! Finally Prima organised a demonstration in her home and K and I were lucky enough to go along.

Ok. So. Is Thermomix a total mindbender? It is pretty good. I think it would be a really excellent addition to the kitchen if you had a couple grand lying around. In case you don't know Thermomix can chop the shit out of things with its super high-power blades and it stirs and it heats. You see. It has very useful functions.

Here are some things I loved about it:

Our demonstrator, Natasha, showed us how Thermo can make raw sugar into icing sugar. You put those large crystals in and whizz. Then ICING SUGAR! WHOA! It pretty much blew my mind. Only buying one kind of sugar and just blending as appropriate! Awesome. I WANT THERMOMIX! Then a few days later on Facebook I saw G-Force had written this: Just discovered replacing caster with raw sugar. All you have to do is chuck it in the spice grinder for a coupla seconds.Presumably if caster sugar is possible in a spice grinder a few more seconds would make icing sugar possible. So maybe I don't need a Thermomix?

The next thing I loved was the delicious sorbet Natasha made with aforementioned icing sugar. Just that, frozen orange, egg white, mango, ice. It was smooth and very delicious. And I am pretty sure that I could really do some mindblowing icy treats with it. I WANT THERMOMIX! Then, a few days later my mum attempted a similar thing in her Magimix. The results were nowhere near as smooth and fancy, but it was still quite yum. Maybe I don't need a Thermomix?

There was a delicious Thermo-made hommus. It really was very, very good, but good hommus you can definitely do in a regular blender. But not in 20 seconds! I WANT THERMOMIX!

But the next thing really was the best. Natasha chucked quartered beetroot, apple, carrot, some mint and lemon juice into Thermo and that baby just chopped the crap out of everything and made one of the most delicious and labour-free salads I have ever eaten. I WANT THERMOMIX.




Then there was risotto. It was nice enough but I'm not a big risotto person. Too heavy for me. But a thing that stirs while cooking to give you a perfectly consistent foodstuff?! I WANT THERMOMIX. 

The lemon custard at the end demonstrated perfectly how perfectly consistent a cooked foodstuff Thermomix can make. I WANT THERMOMIX. 



But I guess I want $2000 more. Plus, it doesn't make chips.



 

The keep it to yourself files (PM)

Oh. Oh, geez. I don't think that lady should be telling the people she is waxing about her meth head boyfriend. When a waxer tells me anything about her private life I usually think she has gone too far. But that is because I'm not much of a sharer. Except sometimes I really am. It's complicated.

Anyway, I guess maybe that hippy waxer just thinks that this is a world free from judgement and she can say whatever she wants to whoever she wants. Or maybe she doesn't care about judgement. Who knows. Alls I know is that there is a time for sharing and a time for not sharing. Like this one time at my old work this girl started. In fact I used to go to school with her. It was weird. And she started at my work and then, in the kitchenette she told my friend (whom she had just met) that her boyfriend had been sick "down there" and gestured at her thrust out groin. THE KITCHENETTE ON A TEA BREAK! That is neither the time nor place to tell a stranger about your boyfriends cock probs. Oh, hang on there is no such time or place unless the stranger is some kind of doctor and you are in their office.

But shit! Why the eff am I telling you all this when I could be talking about my favourite meth head who is also one of my all-time favourite characters. For real. Jesse Pinkman has a long history of smoking crystal meth and I effing love that guy! And if I didn't have a boyfriend and a child and Jesse Pinkman was not fictional and didn't wear all those horrible t-shirts...

...and live in ABQ while I live all the way over in MEL I would totally want to date him. But I am pretty aware I'm not really skanky enough. Sigh.

But Jesse doesn't have much of a temper like that waxer's boyfriend so I think he would be a much better guy with a long history of smoking meth to date.

The keep it to yourself files (AM)

This is a true account of an uncomfortable conversation I had at the beauty parlour the other day, reminiscent of the time my former barista took our morning coffee conversation in an direction that was more related to tea than coffee if you catch my drift.  While it's possible that the last time this happened I was a tad complicit, this time I think I am a total innocent and I'm here it prove it. Want to know more? Well don't just sit there crabby friends, read on readers!

The action takes place in a popular beauty therapy franchise we'll call Vermillion Flutterpie . The lights are fluorescent. The soundtrack is mid-1990s RnB. Think "Waterfalls" by TLC. The ladies who work there are all very sweet girls, some of whom may or may not wear a lot of fake tan and who may or may not get highlights in their hair. If they do get highlights in their hair, they may or may not get them touched up frequently enough to avoid looking rough. 

The particular beauty therapist working on me had a slight hippy bent. Not long after I lay down on the bed, while she was preparing the hot wax, she asked me how my day had been so far. Totally normal for a beauty therapist. I said something or another in response and then she said: 

"It was a full moon last night. Maybe that's why my boyfriend was so aggro."

I have to say I was a little concerned by the direction she was taking the conversation, what with me only having met her once before,  and the preceding conversation having no logical lead in to discussion of moons or boyfs. But I figured because she is a bit of a hippy, it would progress to a conversation about crystals and star signs and I was prepared to go along with it. She was pouring hot wax on my body, after all. I tend to let them talk about whatever they want to talk about when they're holding the wax pot.  

"Oh yes?" I said, trying to sound interested, but not too interested. 
"Yeah" she replied, then went on and on about how her boyfriend had been boozing a little, and this had led to a fight, but he apologised as soon as they woke up this morning. 
"Well that's nice" I said. "It's nice he apologised. He knows he was in the wrong and he admitted it".

She agreed, then told me that it's been tough for him lately because he is unemployed. 

I nodded sympathetically. We've all had unemployed boyfriends before, after all. I was getting ready to  offer some words of comfort when she continued. "He's got  long history of smoking…." at this point she hesitated, so I offered my most sympathetic nod to encourage her. Sure,  I may look like a massive square, but I'm on the level. I know people like to smoke the ganga. I know people like to spark up a doobie. I know the sweet Mary Jane can ease people's pain. I've seen some things in my time*+. So I put a look on my face and gave a tilt to my head that said "go ahead friend, tell me your boyfriend is a massive pot head… you're in a safe place". 
 
I guess it worked, because she went on to finish her sentence with the words "crystal" and "meth". So when you put it all together, she said "He's got a long history of smoking crystal meth".
Um. I know I was the one nodding encouragingly, but since when did hippy beauty therapists start talking about crystal meth instead of actual crystals?? And since when did they think it's OK to talk about that with a person they have only met once before. And not, like, met in real life, just the beauty parlour. Ones that look like massive squares?! Since when did this become an OK thing? I don't think it's an OK thing you guys. Talking about your boyfriend's meth habit with a total stranger and a client at your place of employment. Honestly. Keep it to yourself, am I right? 

And shit you guys, I watch Breaking Bad. Don't smoke meth for pete's sake! It's the worst!

*Do I even need to say this?

+I've seen no things

We went climbing (PM)

Let me say straight up that I only agreed to go rock climbing because I have a hard time saying no to Chickpea when she has been asking me to do something over a period of several months. When the requests come over a period of days and weeks I am all "aww, thanks but no thanks girl" and "no way, girl". But after months I reach breaking point, and before I know it I am wearing some nasty-assed shoes and getting taught the ropes literally! (ha!) by a baby-faced Leonardo look alike (or something).

Of course, we only got photos of the shoes, not baby faced Leo, so we will all just have to keep wondering.

Despite only participating because I can't say no to Chickpea, I had a surprisingly enjoyable time climbing the walls. Even though I didn't so much scale as awkwardly clamber.

Note my proximity to people on the ground. I didn't get much further.
I also enjoyed referring to the karabiner (which is this thing):

The karabiner is an important part of climbing. It hooks you on to ropes and stuff and that's how we all stay safe. 

as a caribou.  Ha! Caribou. That's not a Caribou. THIS is a Caribou:

It was a little bit deliberate, and a little bit because I couldn't quite commit the word karabiner to memory. There are a lot of things you have to remember to do in rock climbing you see, and I felt that applying my limited mental capacity to learning the correct technique rather that the correct name for a karabiner was the right call.
But the joke was on me, because at the end of my last climb, I couldn't undo the caribou and liberate myself from the rope. Everyone tried, but we couldn't get it undone.

White knuckled attempt to liberate me

They plugged away for ages but in the end, we had to get a staff member to get me out, using a special professional tool* they have for when people get stuck in a caribou lock. So apart from that slight embarrassment, it was a swell time.




*Her hands.

We went climbing (AM)

 

After months and months of begging, Chickpea finally got me to go "rock climbing". You know, where you climb up a wall in a gym. Really she got K to agree to go and then she organised it, so I went. And by "begging me" I mean suggesting to me. It's not that I didn't want to go, it's just I'm bad at commitment. Until a thing is organised. Then I'm right on board. FOMO.

Strawberry, K and I were all first timers at this joint so we had to be inducted. That is, to learn the ropes. Literally. HA!

We got worded up by a young hipsterish dude that K thought had a young Leonardo thing going on. Frankly, I didn't quite think he was Leonardo, but he was something. K suggested a young Damon Albarn. I thought he was more a young Hamish Blake but the lower part of his face was a little young Brad Pitt. I don't know what the hell he was. I guess we were on some kind of pre-adrenalin high. In fact I'm sure we were because at the time everything he said seemed really funny but now it just seems like regular words. He instructed us how, as a climber, we should hook our harnesses to the ropes and, more importantly, as a belayer, how to belay. This is the important bit, because you are totally in charge of another person's safety and, therefore, life. Which is why I kept wondering when I looked at Chickpea why she was doing everything opposite to how the instructor told us to. I guess she was just being a helpful how-not-to guide. Thanks Chickpea.

Before we were let lose on the climbing gym we had to get some more intimate instruction from a delightful lady called Christina. She was super helpful, even if she did tell me I counted one pair of rope in a knot twice. Thanks Christina, but I have been counting to five for a really long time and I almost never count a thing twice.

See all the rope pairs in that figure 8 know. Five pairs.

But seriously folks. She was good and we all conquered that little wall pretty easily.K was the first to climb, and looking back on it her hysteria when being belayed down after her climb pretty well supports my pre-adrenalin high theory. So we moved to a harder wall. I scaled the heck out of it. See?

But enough about me. Let's hear what K thought this afternoon.

Babe of the Month Club: Catherine Keener

Babes.

Oh baby, who doesn't love a babe? Not us.

Whoa there, that's a double negative, so could be a little confusing. Let me be absolutely clear: we love babes. 

Obviously, our first love is hunks, but we can appreciate the heck out of a good babe and have scheduled that appreciation in to our repertoire on a quarterly basis. First, and a tad controversially, it was K-Stew. 

Now, it's C.Keen's time, C.Keen being Catherine Keener, the fifty-three year old (fifty-three years old!) American actress who has been in a bunch of great things but really, not enough things.

C.Keen, you are a babe and the time to celebrate you starts NOW!

J: Catherine Keener is a total babe! The first time I saw her was in Johnny Suede. An early Brad Pitt movie. And while I admit at the time I was all about B.Pi (HAHAHAHA B.Pi!) I couldn't help but take notice of his babelicious love interest, Catherine Keener.

Come for the B.Pi, stay for the C.Keen

K: Jonny Suede was my first time with her too.  It would be a while longer before I knew she was a babe, but I felt feelings of 'like' for her straight away. It's that big smile. While  I want to slap that big smile off, say, Julia Roberts' face I want to have a drink with C.Keen and find out why she is smiling so much.

J: Sure, I didn't fall in love with her instantly either, I really liked her. As the years went on I liked her more and more. I like how she was married to Dermot Mulroney. I like how she was sometimes photographed hanging out with Brad Pitt, just like they were buddies hanging out. I like how she is really nice looking and she has this kind of low voice and this naturalistic way of talking that no one else in Hollywood has. In short, I kind of love her. 

Plus Being John Malkovich! Hello!

K: She does have a thing that no one else in Hollywood has, you're dead right. Natural and easy, which is very charming. And that great voice. I wish I had a signature voice. I really really don't. I sound like 'generic woman'. Sometimes when I get a cold I sound better. Anyway, this is about C-Keen, not me. 

Dermot Mulroney is a shit-hot husband to have. And for 17 years, if wikipedia is to be believed. That's a pretty good go. Look at them, all smiley in happier times. Dermot Mulroney should work more. 

It's kind of a shame they broke up, but I think it's a shame when anyone breaks up so don't ask me. 

Obviously Being John Malkovich blew the whole C-Keen-is-a-babe-and-seemingly-quite-great thing right open. That film is one of the films. And she is so great and so beautiful in it. And though she is in things semi-regularly, I really want her to be in more things. Which may well be one of the reasons she is a BotMC babe. She leaves us wanting more. 

Mate, lets talk about her hair. 

J: What a hot couple they made! But that's the past. Unlike her hair. Catherine Keener has such beautiful hair. Catherine Keener's hair in The 40- Year-Old Virgin is the reason I grew my hair long. The reason. But my hair is not beautiful and shiny like hers. I think about her hair almost daily!

Great hair and Great (Michael) Scott! ha!

K: Lucky, lucky babe, to have such great hair.

So what's next for C.Keen, I wonder?

*checks IMDB*

Apparently C.Keen has a couple of films coming out over the next little while, one of which is called Maladies and co-stars Franco. Another one is called Nailed and co-stars fellow HotMC alumnus Gyllenhaal.

Hot!

J: Hey that is great news about Keener and Gylenhaal starring in a movie together. HotMC meets BotMC! I love it! I am also happy to tell you that Dermot Mulroney has a few films on the go too and one of them stars Mia Wasikowka and Nicole Kidman. It looks creepy as and Dermot plays a dead man so I'm not holding out that much hope.

K: Sometimes people can play dead people in movies and it works out ok, like SPOILER ALERT Bruce Willis in The Sixth Sense so fingers crossed for Dermot.

Dermot is actually quite a massive hunk. I just want to put that out there, even though today is all about Catherine.

J: Sure sometimes the dead guy is the star, like Bobby in The Heavenly Kid, but sadly I watched the trailer for the Mulroney movie and the only shot of him was in a photo on top of a casket, so I'm not holding my breath. Anyway this is about his foxy ex, not Mulroney.  C.Keen is a babe that has crossed decades. You sure cant say that everyday. LiLo barely crossed years with her cuteness. Word up CK.  

K: You said it, Mate. Word up CK. 

Cute in a car!

Haiku Thursday (PM)

More feelings about Ewan. In Haiku. 

Others come and go.

He came and he didn't go.

Ewan is "the one".

He's a gentleman. 

And a scholar. And, a hunk. 

He's our highland Muse. 

Sorry Mate, I couldn't resist. 

Haiku Thursday (AM)

Around here there are few  hunks that compare to Ewan McGregor and you can bet your acres that come the last Friday of the month we are always stretching our brains to think of who to celebrate in Hunk of the Month Club. Hunks ain't what they used to be. But, alas, an early tribute to Ewan disqualifies him from the HotMC race. So, in the interest of celebrating hunks as they should be, here are some haiku especially for Ew.

Ewan McGregor - my feelings in haiku

I

Ewan McGregor

So handsome plus a Scottish 

Accent seems unfair

  

II

Human existence

Surely will continue on

Did gods peak early?

III

 Not just with his face

But his general hunkness

And that damn smile

Wayward Wednesday - A Miss Soft Crab once off (PM)

Whoa! Wayward Wednesday! I was not expecting that! 

I was totally expecting K to write about Thermomix. I certainly was not expecting that post to end with a picture of Ewan! And I was definitely not expecting Baby to see that picture of Ewan and say 'Daddy?'  I told him it wasn't but he was pretty adamant. 'That's Ewan McGregor,' I told him to which he replied 'I think it's Daddy.' And geez you can only argue with a 2-year-old so long before you have to let him win.

What I have learnt from Wayward Wednesday is that:

• Holy Muthereffing moly I have never wanted to be a millionaire as much as I do right now!
• I want to eat the heck out of one of those 'shortbreads'
• Baby has a new daddy  (Sorry, LB)

Wayward Wednesday - A Miss Soft Crab once off (AM)

Due to:

• the runaway success of Terrific Tuesday
• the fact that I feel a little rough after the 2012 Trivia Grand Final last night (we lost by half a point)
• the fact that I had to get up at sparrows to write this because I have to go to a meeting in Pakenham and it takes 80 minutes to get from Melbourne Central Station to Pakenham by train I KNOW CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!

today's AM post is going to be a little wayward, by which I mean it will be a bit lame. 

Let me stress that unlike Terrific Tuesday (which I hope will live forever), Wayward Wednesday is not going to become a thing, it's just something I am doing today. 

Ok, here we go. 

Remember how yesterday I was all "I'm going to eat a shortbread today!!"?

Well you better believe I followed through. And I didn't just eat any shortbread. No sirree. I ate a millionaires shortbread, which is what they call caramel slice these days. Or at least, what they call it at this place near my work.
I thought it would be delicious but it wasn't. It was the most delicious thing ever! Bam!

It hit my tongue and melted like butter, but instead of just tasting like butter it tasted like butter and salt and caramel and chocolate. If you imagine normal shortbread to be like normal Scottish people (i.e. nice, adorable), then millionaire's shortbread is like Ewan McGregor  (i.e. sublime, the best thing).

That's all. 

Terrific Tuesday (PM)

zOMG I love Terrific Tuesday so much already! When I turned on The Internet this morning and immediately logged on to Miss Soft Crab (as I'm sure you do too, readers) I saw the title Terrific Tuesday and I thought YES! This is a great idea! At first I thought this because I really do love an alliteration, but then I thought it because I want to make Tuesday terrific. Who wouldn't?

So, it's the middle of the day, and here is what I've done to make Tuesday terrific so far.

• I drank a coffee
• I tried really hard not to laugh at anyone at our all-staff meeting this morning, which was really hard, but I succeeded and got to feel good about myself and that was terrific
• I decided to have a salad sandwich instead of a pork roll for lunch, again so I can feel good about myself and potentially allow myself to have a shortbread with the coffee I am going to have this afternoon
• I also did a bunch of work I've been putting off, so that was pretty terrific. 

And here's what I'm going to do next:

• email my tax guy and make an appointment to do my mother-flipping tax
• have another coffee and maybe a shortbread
• go to the pub tonight with my Mike Gatting sisters and pull together the performance of our lives for the 2012 Trivia Premiership. 

Actually, I'm definitely going to have a shortbread. It's Terrific Tuesday after all. I can not eat shortbread when I'm dead, right?

Terrific Tuesday (AM)

Check it out you guys! I just invented a new thing. You know how K really loves alliteration? (Well she does.) So I thought, hey what goes with Tuesday? And then I thought 'TERRIFIC'. And now I just feel terrific. Seriously! Yesterday afternoon I was feeling kind of POed. After work I ran for the tram. Made it too. Except it closed it's goddamned doors on my umbrella and left without me. Also my jeans were so tight. And I was wearing too many clothes cause it was so cold yesterday morning. Also my This American Life app is so effing buggy so I couldn't listen to it. And iOs6 requires you to have a fucking podcast app to stream podcasts from iTunes. UGH. So you can see that I was pretty glad when Muthafucking Monday was over. Oh, sure, I know that Muthafucking Monday wasn't so bad, just a series of minor annoyances made worse by my uncomfortable outfit. But it was, you know, annoying.

And when I say I invented a new thing I really mean I think we should all implement this in our real lives every week. If you have a good Monday well word up to you. But lets get serious. At best they are usually fine. But if we just try and make Tuesday terrific think how good every week would be!!!

And he we are! Terrific Tuesday!  Here is what I am going to do to make this Tuesday rule!

• All my washing. Plus I'll hang it in the sunshine!
• Spend time in the sunshine.
• Drink 2 coffees.
• Eat some delicious bircher muesli in about 2 minutes.
• Paint my nails.
• Try really hard to stop thinking about how much I love Jesse Pinkman, about how I hope he is going to be ok, and get over my Breaking Bad withdrawals. In truth I think this is key to making my Terrific Tuesday. 

Here goes you guys, let's go and have the best damn Tuesday ever!

I wish I was a dancer (PM)

Anytime I see anyone doing any of the things I love, I think I have lived my life all wrong. Dancing and playing music, especially. Boy, no one would ever see me at work and think they took the wrong path. No siree. I love to dance. And I wish I could do it well to. I really do. But even if I had pursued such a life I think I probably would never have been very successful. So thank god I work in an office.

Clouds are so deceptive aren’t they? The way they look so soft and comforting and if you could lie on one it would be so beautiful. And warm, because the  sun would be right on you. Well, thanks for making me long for a few more things I don’t have mate!

Luckily I couldn’t care less about playing the cello.

I wish I was a dancer (AM)

On the weekend I went to see a dance performance called Weather, by Lucy Guerin Inc. I loved it very much, and thought I would talk about it today. Be warned though readers, nothing I have to say about it is funny. I just want to talk about it. The only thing slightly funny about it was that one of the dancers looked like a combination of Michael C. Hall (the actor who plays Dexter) and Ethan Hawke, which is not in and of itself funny, but I found him extremely attractive, and that was funny. Let's hope it was the Michael C. and not the Ethan in him that was appealing to me, because I hate to think that something is happening to me that would make me attracted to Ethan Hawke.

But that's not what I'm here to talk about. What I'm here to talk about is that without fail, every time I see a dance performance, within a minute I wish I had followed a (completely different) path and become a dancer. The way those people can move their bodies makes me think that to be able to do that would be one of the best things a person could do with their lives. I think this even though I know the reality is all tears and sprains and breaks and agony. But the way it looks, readers, the way it looks! It's as though a perfect song, a perfect sentence, a perfect taste and a perfect smell have all come together to become the most perfect of all the things. One perfect thing to rule them all.  It makes me forget how much I like everything else, on the spot, and it kills me a little inside because I know it's too late to become a dancer. You see what I mean, guys? There's nothing funny about this, I'm just telling you how I feel.

And while I'm here, I might as well also tell you that because this particular performance was about the weather, it reminded me of something from when I was little. How I used to look at clouds, those huge thick billowing ones and I used to imagine how soft they would be to touch. I used to want to touch them so much, it would make my tiny little heart ache with longing, and from knowing I never could.  That's how I feel about dancing. I would give anything to be able to touch a cloud and have it feel like I imagine, and to be able to dance properly. Also, to play the cello, but I don't ache for it the way I ache for clouds and dancing.

So that's what I wanted to say today. If you're still with me, I think you guys should watch this. It shows a tiny little bit of the show, and if you look carefully you can see Dexthan.

http://www.abc.net.au/arts/stories/s3613379.htm?WT.ac=TV_TV-Arts%7Cweather-Guerin_ABC%7CABCArts%3Cbr%3E

Friday Favourites - Supergrass (PM)

Dudes making some great music while seemingly having a super time and sporting haircut/sideburn combinations that are pure 2001 is the essence of Supergrass' appeal. I'm not going to over-complicate things by saying any more. I will just quickly add that I had a feeling Baby would love Supergrass because he is such a good time guy. Baby and Supergrass, #matchmadeinheaven. 

I wish I could play Alright again. But I guess we should all move on. Ha!

Friday Favourites - Supergrass (AM)

So K has brought up Supergrass a few times lately (to me, not you guys) and that reminded me, HEY! I effing love that band. In the year 2000, not long after the album Supergrass came out,  I worked at this small, awful juice bar (how early '00s are juice bars?! I got a Boost juice the other day and I pretty much thought it was 2001) and I remember really vividly this day when Supergrass were playing in Melbourne and for some reason I didn't get tickets and the (awesome) song 'Mary' came on the radio and well... regrets, I've got a few.

I recently introduced Baby to Supergrass. First we watched the video for 'Pumping on the Stereo'. A lot. But when Baby started talking about how he wanted to add "taking my head off" to his dance moves repertoire I thought we just keep moving. That's when I showed him the clip for 'Alright'. And after watching that 15 times I realised that Supergrass would have to be this week's Friday Favourite! Yes, it was listening to those great songs that made me think that, but it was also something in Gaz's adorable doofusy face too.

Do I feel weird that our last Friday Favourite was a British band of the late 90s/early 2000s? Yes! A little bit. But what can I say, I guess at that time in England someone was putting some really good shit in the water.

So why are Supergrass so good? Only because they wrote awesome rock 'n' roll that sounds like they were having the best time ever and then makes you have the best time ever!

Plus, do you know how hard it was to chose a clip to finish this with? Really hard. Know why? Cause so many songs are winners! Most of them. I love the song 'Mary' so much, but to be honest that clip is a little creepy and this is the AM post after all so let's just keep things light, shall we? And get this weekend started off right! Let's go back to where things started. For me anyway. And for this post. Alright!

Haiku Thursday (PM)

Pretzels

I've eaten pretzels 

By the hundreds or thousands

But they all delight

The way they taste so:

Burnt, salty, sweet, and crunchy

(I think that's a taste)

Haiku Thursday (AM)

A year. 

I wish I knew how

To make you go more slowly.

Not thunder past me. 

Once the blossoms end

The jacaranda will bloom

And then it's Christmas. 

And then? Then It will 

Be 2013. 

Unbelievable. 

Nature, you're so fine (PM)

The plants in springtime are so goddamn pretty that yesterday, when I had to drive to Moe for work, the abundance of blossoms on the trees were so beautiful and so heartwarming I thought you know what Moe, you're OK by me!

Moe, you guys.

That's springtime for you. Or more specifically, nature in springtime. Try getting another season to make me feel that way about  a town famous for being Victoria's gateway to brown coal, and crime.
Back in the city, I am extremely jealous of that garden that grows at J's parents house. It's always been an absolute beauty but it looks stunningly beautiful right now. I think I had better come over this weekend to have a look for myself. Ok you guys? Good, that's settled then.

My springtime plants are a little more modest. You know how it is with a balcony garden. I've laid a bunch of seeds, ready for some late spring/early summer blooms, so at the moment there's a lot of green and not a lot of colour.

But soon, readers, soon.

Nature, you're so fine (AM)

On the weekend K and I were lying in the park rejoicing in the sunshine and how great spring can be but although spring can be so great and we all love it, really it is just like the girl Caroline in the smash hit Outkast single, 'Roses':
..all the guys would say she's mighty fine
But mighty fine only got you somewhere half the time
And the other half either got you cursed out, or coming up short

Right?! I mean spring can be so pretty and great, but the other half either got you cursed out or too cold, wet or windy. But unlike Andre 3000 I don't want spring to be:
...speeding on the way to the club
Trying to hurry up to get to some
Baller or singer or somebody like that
And try to put on her makeup in the mirror
And crash, crash, crash.. into a ditch!

Me, I'd rather things worked out like in Mean Girls, you know, how Rachel McAdams figures out she can be pretty and nice. Spring, be more like that.

Anyway yesterday on that weird cool grey day I was wishing spring could just be more warm and sunny and springy, but then I went into my Mum's garden and I saw another thing that is really good about spring. PLANTS!

I guess there is more to spring than sunshine and warmth. Maybe spring isn't the bitch in this outfit at all. Maybe its me.

Flowery succulent!

Red succulent!

Nasturtium!

In real life this flower is practically neon!

Fern covered in adorable little green things

Adorable green things up close

Sorry I said you were like Caroline in Roses, spring.

Possum Magic (PM)

You gonna force feed the pill to possums, people?!? This is clearly a plan made by men. By people who have never taken a pill that didn't sit well with them, made them fat or crazy or depressed or pimply. Leave the possums alone, a-holes. I am so not surprised they are already trialling this in Curtain Square, the most uptight square in Melbourne. The place people complain about you having a dog off the lead and having fun. A-holes.

Plus, I don't know if these men know that possums can actually make themselves invisible. As long as they have a magic grandma. And unless you feed them the correct combination they will stay invisible. So, stick that in your pipe and smoke it. How you gonna get the pill in the possums if you can't see them?! HA! In the book Possum Magic the magic possum grandma makes her granddaughter invisible to hide from snakes, but I guess this could be read as a parable about the one child policy.

Possum Magic (AM)

Yesterday, The Age ran an article about how some people (the fun police!) want to put a bunch of possums on birth control because they are "destructive, costly, dirty pests". These people want to get rid of possums and think that birth control is a more humane way of controlling their numbers than wasting them.

Readers: I do not feel good about wasting possums, but I feel even worse about putting them on birth control.  Governments absolutely do not belong in the bedrooms of possums. Who are we to interfere with their fuzzy wuzzy reproductive rights? No one, that's who. 

I'll tell you what I do like, though.

The picture that ran with the story. 

Have you ever seen such a lusty marsupial in your life?  This little guy is almost literally gagging for it.
And his/her face perfectly illustrates why putting possums on birth control is a terrible idea. Possums are just going to do what comes naturally to possums, and no 28 day cycle of Brenda or Dianne or whatever they call the possum pill is going to change that. There's always going to be one little possum who forgot to take her pill that morning, or who got a tummy bug after eating some bad Lily Pilly and before you know it, bam! Baby possums. It only takes one time you guys. And that's just how it should be.
Go get em, possums!

Who the eff is Ryan Reynolds?! (PM)

I wish we didn't have to bring RyRey to our blog, but I know that these are the posts we had to have. This guy is not now, and never will be a hunk, and as usual MSC must speak up for the women in their thirties who can't stop thinking about hunks and who know that this man, he is not a hunk.
I ache for the young ones who will grow up thinking otherwise. As far as I am concerned, this guy's name appears immediately after the name Bradley Cooper in the file of evidence supporting the idea that people do not know a hunk from Adam anymore and maybe, just maybe, we have reached Peak Hunk.

I don't want to post a photo of RyRey you guys. I won't do it! Instead, here is some wisteria and a miniature rose and a man on a bike in the last of yesterday's afternoon sun.

Who the eff is Ryan Reynolds?! (AM)

Obviously I know who Ryan Reynolds is. He's Van Wilder, party liaison. And, as far as I understand, he is also the Green Lantern. But given I have no idea how a lantern could be a superhero I don't rate that as a thing. According to IMDb he is also a bunch of other dudes in a bunch of other movies (56 of them!) none of which seem in the least bit interesting, except possibly X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and that only because of Taylor Kitsch and definitely not because of RyRey. Also Ted. But you know a teddy bear and Marky Mark, who wouldn't be interested in that?

So why am I talking about this nobody of an actor? Well because idiot just got in my brain after I saw his name on a magazine cover and it infuriated me. Because why the fuck is this guy who is in nothing but nothing movies, who is neither attractive nor charismatic, in popular culture at all? Chicks!

I remember vividly when I heard he was engaged to Alanis Morissette. It seemed so odd. She seemed so mature, what with all that anger, and he was Van Wilder. But they are both Canadian so there was that. Then I never thought about him, or her, again. Until out of the blue he married Scarlett Johansson. So again, there he was in the magazines. This nobody who I never even saw photographed with his 'wife', except in photos like this:

Then, surprise, surprise, they break up and suddenly, again out of the blueberry he marries Blake Lively! Who gives a shit? Although I guess after she broke up with Penn Badgely and then was linked to Leonardo I wondered... oh never mind. Anyway in the supermarket last night I saw BLives on the cover of some fashion magazine with the line 'Blake Lively on blah, blah, and dating Ryan Reynolds!' Has anyone in the world ever thought about what it would be like to date RyRey? No, right? The answer can only be no. I wish those ladies of Hollywood would stop marrying that guy so he could get the hell out of anything I ever read about celebrities.

Fitness Friday - Progress update (J or PM)

Oh, shit. Man, I really thought that K being stuck in a bunch of depressing motel rooms would be a great situation for her to do exercises. What the hell else are you going to do when stuck in a motel room on the side of a highway. Probably watch Embarrassing Bodies or something.

Well, I would like to tell you that I had a really successful week of exercise, but I did not. I went for one run and I did Jane’s workout one time. My only excuse is that I do not like exercising in miserable weather. I know, so lame, it’s the truth though. Seriously as soon as the sun comes out I can’t wait to run and pump iron. Also my intensity is for shit. BUT I can say that after my run and my Jane workout I felt pretty darn great. So let’s keep these goals realistic. This week I did one run and one Jane, next week I will do two of each. That sounds realistic right? I guess we’ll find out soon enough.

Fitness Friday - Progress update (K)

Oh, hello there readers.

Remember how last week we were all lets get physical, physical, I want to get physical, lets get in to physical et cetera et cetera?

Remember how I was going to do the special Jane Fonda in a book workout that J outlined for us last week and then report back today? 

Well being away for work all week has kind of broken me and robbed me of the will to hear my own body talk. 

Somewhere between the depressing motels and the endless meetings and being advised that the meals at the bistro at the I-talian club are very reasonably priced, I lost touch with this whole J and K do Jane thing.  

I thought about just pretending that I did it but I don't want to lie to you, my little Crab friends. I don't want to lie to you at all. Plus, admitting failure is the first step towards...not being a failure? I don't even know. Anyway, I'm sure that this afternoon J will be able to tell us about what it's like when you apply yourself and actually follow through on the Fitness Friday challenge. Take it away, Matey.

Haiku Thursday (PM)

Haiku impressions of the view from a depressing hotel room in Morwell. 

I

Smell of KFC.

You cross the Princes Highway.

And invade my room. 

II

Sign of Carlton Draught.

You make me want to drink a

Lot of Carlton Draught. 

Haiku Thursday (AM)

 

 

Sweet sights of spring

 

I

Bees collect pollen

Take it home to make honey

Those guys are awesome 

 

II

Take a little sun

Then you add a little rain

What you got? Rainbows!

WTF Wednesday (PM)

WTF country Victoria?! Whale's don't blow. They effing rule! I can only assume, Mate, that you are not in coastal Victoria. Only an inland motel would hate on whales. Because they are jealous, I guess.

Twice I have seen whale's off Torquay. At Winkipop to be precise, which is right next to Bells Beach. You know, Bells Beach, Australia. Where the 100-year storm comes and kills Bodhi.

Anyway if you don't want to die like Bodhi, you surf at Winki, not Bells. And if you are the girlfriend of a surfer you stand around not surfing and getting chiko rolls for your boyf and if you are really lucky you see a whale. And it effing rules. Even if they do swim way out and you can barely see them and all you have to know it's really a whale is the occasional different movement of water.  Gee, whales, why are you such a tease. Maybe you do blow.