Bit puffed now.

Blogging has gone right out the window for the last week or so. There's a couple of reasons ( on top of the reasons I've already banged on about), the biggest being that old chestnut time, which seems to have been kidnapped by all manner of activities. Things like work and my third move of the year. (Out of my house, into furnished accommodation, out of furnished accommodation into permanent accommodation and being reunited with all my stuff- does that count as three?)It was always going to be like this, and this will be my last move for some considerable time, unless I'm being carried out of here in a coffin.

But if I see another box filled with possessions I own, I shall either go and throw myself under the nearest bus or I will start hurling it out the window like a lolly scramble yelling, 'Get your free stuff here!' (Which I imagine would be about half an hour before the men in white coats arrived who would then ask me to pack a suitcase).

So if you don't mind, I'll just continue with that lie down I talked about a week ago and be back in a minute.

People are so glorious.

I was driving down the road today with SomeonefromWork and I saw an outstanding hat.

Not outstanding in that I wanted it to headhunt it to be a signed up member of my wardrobe, but outstanding in the fact that it was just outstanding. It was in the league of 'Posh Spice's wedding called, they want their hat back.'

'Oooh now that's a hat!' I squealed.

Then I looked a little closer.

'And that's an incredibly short dress.'

And I looked even closer.

'And that's a man.'

'Yeah', said SomeonefromWork, 'it's all in the walk.'

Let me count the ways I love it when assumptions are tossed out the window.

Question.

'She was fucking crackers...she really reminded me of you.'

Should I take this as a compliment?

If you come from a farm and have a father like mine, you will find this funny.

Funnily enough, it was my father who sent this to me.

Mince.

Ohhhhhh how could I resist this pearler from Awkward Family Photo? I think that child is thinking, 'Hee, screw my sister.'

There's a reason I've been blogging a little erractically of late, in fact there's a few.

Yup, the last four weeks have been a touch busy.

They've included:

Embracing so much new technology that my poor simple head has wanted to explode.

Working on a job that has literally hoovered up every waking hour of my life, as well as a few sleeping ones.

Then starting another new job.

Spreading jam on my toast with a wooden spoon.

Renting my house.

Moving cities.

So if someone could pass me a cup of tea and a lie down, I'd really appreciate it.

They have it.

Last night I was off to a barbeque with some friends of mine and their small people, Three and Seven.

I was sitting in the back beside Seven, who was in the middle. She stretched her (very long for being only seven) legs out, put them on the arm rest in the middle of the front seats and lazily said to her father, 'Could you move your arm, cowboy?'

I didn't realise seven year olds could be so impossibly cool.

A Summer, a sprinkler, a small person and her shadow.

I love this shot. It's my five year old niece jumping over the sprinkler. I mean, thprinkler.

I think it could be just titled Summer in New Zealand.

I am weird.

I am the type of person who is constantly boring people senseless with my dreams ( yes, I understand other people's dreams are excruciatingly boring, but really this one is different, promise!)

But last night I experienced something that has never happened to me before.

I was having a dream (no idea what it was) and I started laughing. But I wasn't just laughing in my dream, I actually physically started laughing and woke myself up. And as I was waking up I thought, 'I'm laughing because of (insert:reason that I was laughing that I have since forgotten) and it wasn't even that funny.'

And then I went back to sleep.

Maybe my dreamself has a much lower threshold for humour.

She's a hell of a way to get out of jury duty.

I must admit I did smile when I read this story about a judge discharging a member of the jury after she had a wee kip mid-trial.

I know in reality it's possibly not that funny and all that, but it is the way my brain processes it.

And it reminded me of a story that happened to a friend. She was a lawyer in Sydney at the time and was defending the criminal at a trial, during which he was being kept out of harm's way behind perspex.

It was the afternoon and when she looked over to her client she was horrified to see that he was starting to get the giggles.

Then he started to get them more.

And more.

Until his giggling fit becoming so intense that he disappeared beneath the perspex, so he didn't get into more trouble.

My mate was at a complete loss as to what was going on with her client.

She looked around the courtroom - and then saw what it was that her client found so amusing.

The prosecuting lawyer had gently dozed off.

Her co-worker stood up and said to the Judge, 'I think one too many chardonnays at lunch Your Honour.'

Oh, let me count the ways that story fills me with joy.

Sometimes I get so lost when I am in the shower I need a map and a compass to find my way out.

I have a question.

Why is it that when I am in a rush and - regardless of how late I am running - whenever I get into the shower all sense of urgency flies straight out the window?

Every.Time.A.Coconut.

It goes like this.

Rushrushrushmust hurrydashingquickturnshowerondashdashhowmuchtimehaveIgot?Notenoughtolookatwatchisshowerwarmenoughyet?Jumpinshower....

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm lovvvvvvvvvvelyyyyyyyyyyy warmmmmmmmmmmmmm waaaaaaaaaaaaterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ruuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnninnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng all dooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwnnnnnnnnnnnn me. Yummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Repeat at least three times, possibly five.

Turn off shower.Look at watch.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckrunningreallylatenowdashdashdash....

It happened this morning, which meant I ate into my budgeted getting-lost time which meant Igot lost and arrived just a little bit late to location. But not late enough for anyone to mind.

But sometimes I really want to punch myself in the throat.

Who woulda thought ferrets could be cute?

Definitely not me, but the ear rub at 1'09 almost sways me.

There's a break in the weather.

Ohhh, I love me a bit o' good weather. And this was quite sensational.

And for some resaon, I couldn't get this song out of my head.


That was, until it started chundering down and I got caught in it.

I do notice she left out the bit about playing a French hooker, though.

After Saturday's post (see below) I got this email from the Australian Office. She just wanted to clear a few things up, so I encourage you to read her email.

Hello,

Very happy to be the Australian Office, but may need to charge you a small fee!

However, I feel I'm being unfairly pigeon-holed on the whole 'swims with sharks', 'swears at PM' category, without any recognition of my full talents and experience.

I've had lots of important work-related tasks, such as the
following:

*Whole morning spent lying in a coffin in 'dead' make-up whilst a grown man 'corpse' is repeatedly thrown on top of me (to illustrate a money saving tip for surviving the
recession - 2 bodies per coffin).

*A entire week dedicated to in-depth research of penile-enlargement and erectile
dysfunction products.

*4 hours of 'in-bred' make-up to apply an extra eye, 2 more ears, prosthetic nose, rash, back-hump and dodgy teeth, then a further hour dancing along to a reworking of The Brady Bunch theme with lyrics about the Fritzl family - aka The Inbreddy Bunch.

*Co-ordinating a fund-raising sausage sizzle for local brothels.

*Convincing a Norwegian cabinet minister to be interviewed so that the presenter could then steal his wallet and state secrets.

*Getting 18 rockclimbers in a Smart car.

*Learning to eat M&Ms really fast with chopsticks.

*Taking a comedian to a registry office to change his name to Ghvftr Kijl.

*Organising a 'before and after' makeover in which only one side of the presenter's
body was waxed, tanned, exercised, hair-dyed, teeth-whitened and botoxed.

*Acting as guardian to a 7-year-old Indian child during a shoot in which he
pretended to hold Prince Phillip's penis whilst he peed.

*Trying to persuade a 7 foot shark to attack a life-size cardboard cut-out of violinist Andre Rieu.

*Throwing severed fingers into a teenager's hoody.

*Emerging repeatedly from a (bloody cold) sea dressed as a woman who drowned in 1973.

*Advertising slimming underwear for the under-ones.

*Organising an invasion of Liechtenstein.

I have plenty more but am running out of time.

I do have some standards though (not many) - I once refused to dress in pink Ku Klux Klan robes and dance around a burning cross during a mock lynching in aid of KKK Against Breast Cancer...

Anyway, just wanted to set the record straight...

Suddenly your job seems really boring, doesn't it?