Just Sayin'...

You know, one would think that on their birthday, their spoiled rotten cat would learn to keep his biting under control, just for that one day?

I mean, it's great that he cares about my birthday by waking me up and seeing me first, but does he really need to bite my toes and meow incessantly in my ear at 3am.

Seriously, Oscar. Seriously. SERIOUSLY!?

Apparently being 24 makes me grumpy.

Alphabetically Speaking.

One of my favourite bloggers, The Casual Perfectionist, has tagged me for the following meme - and since it is a hot and (worse) humid day today, it's the perfect time for me to steal this meme and roll with it. Enjoy!

P.S. Birthday - 3 days! San Francisco - 9 days!

A. Attached or Single? Attached. Our official anniversary date is September 21st, 2002, so the boyfriend and I? We go way back.

B. Best Friend? Since moving here, I've met loads of amazing people, though I'm not sure if I would class any of them as my 'best friend', apart from J of course. I will get to see my best friend in just a few short weeks. We will take pictures. It will be grand.

C. Cake or pie? We don't have a lot (well, any?) of pie back home, unless you're talking about a classic Aussie meat pie. My absolute favourite dessert in the entire world is a big ol' slice of lemon meringue pie. Mmmm. Pies all the way.

D. Day of choice? I quite enjoy Fridays. Most people would say the weekend, which would absolutely be a close second, but I love the feeling of watching the clock count down on Friday afternoons and knowing that I have an entire weekend to look forward to.

E. Essential item? Usually, I would say something fairly predictable like 'Music' or 'Lip Balm', because if I were to be stuck on a desert island, I wouldn't want to a) have no tunes or b) have nasty chapped lips. BUT, because of the type of day it is today, I'd say my current essential item would have to be a fan. Seriously. Who would've thought I would need to buy a fan in LONDON, a city that is known for it's winters. Unfortunately, whilst the city is well equipped for the cold, the second the weather gets hot, there are no cooling appliances in sight. (I am not looking forward to my sweaty train ride in and out of the city today.)

F. Favorite color? Blue and Yellow.

G. Gummy bears or worms? I'll take both. I like gummy everything.

H. Hometown? A suburb about 45 minutes west of Sydney.

I. Favorite indulgence? Lately, Starbucks.

J. January or July? I prefer July in Australia, and January in the UK.

K. Kids? I'd like some, eventually! At the moment, J and I have Oscar, and he is more than enough of a fur baby to keep us occupied.

L. Life isn’t complete without? Friendship.

M. Marriage date? No marriage date in sight right now!

N. Number of brothers and sisters? One little baby brother . . . who is 21.

O. Oranges or Apples? I love oranges, but am really fussy when eating a whole one. I don't like the ones that are too tart, I peel ALL the white stuff off them (and I mean all of it) and the whole experience ends up taking me about thirty minutes. Apples on the other hand, I can scoff in two minutes.

P. Phobias? I'm not a fan of spiders, at all. I'm also worried by elevators.

Q. Quotes? 'Happiness is not something you experience, it's something you remember.' - Oscar Levant

R. Reasons to smile? I love my little life here, with the boy and the cat. We are happy. Love the people I work with, love that I can walk outside of my house and stand in front of the River Thames, love that it's my birthday soon, and most importantly, love that I'll be travelling so soon and hopefully meeting some amazing people along the way!

S. Season of choice? Autumn or Winter. Love the cold!

T. Tag 5 people: People, you know the drill, you want? You take!

U. Unknown fact about me? I'm shy.

V. Vegetable? No, thank you! *cough* I'm still not a big veggie fan, I know, I know. But if I had to pick, it would be basic things like onions, capsicums, carrots & sweet corn.

W. Worst habit? I don't just pick at my nails, I also pick at the skin around them. That sounds really gross right now, but I swear it's not that bad. I'm also terrible at putting things off - which is strange, because I'm also totally fixated on being organised and early. Weird.

X. X-ray or Ultrasound? I've never had an ultrasound, so I'm guessing X-Ray?

Y. Your favorite food? I love pasta and pizza, and grilled cheese. Boring!

Z. Zodiac sign? I'm a Leo, but I'm the world's worst one. I definitely don't think I have many traits of the lion, that's for sure. What do you think?

Randomness: Font Conference

Because this one made me laugh way to much to not share with you:

Giggles after the jump!

So Much to Write, So Little Time.

Gosh, I have so much to write about. To give you a bit of warning, I do believe that there will be loads of capital letters in today's post. I can sense it already.

I do apologise for this blog turning into a cat-fest lately. No, wait . . . I do not. You have no idea how much joy one little critter has brought into our lives, it's insane. Even Jase, my-never-owned-a-pet-in-his-life-boyfriend is loving the whole pet experience, and you can bet your bottom dollar that when we move back to Sydney eventually, Oscar-face is coming along for the ride. (But you all knew that already, right?)

I must admit I've been crazily jealous over the BlogHer posts again, because seriously, this is the third one that I've read all about and wished that I was there. Even though I probably would be the nervous girl in the corner hiding behind her hair (oh wait! I cut that off! damn!) and sneakily stuffing the free stuff in all available pockets, I still really, really want to go. And you know, I'm still secretly peeved that they could not change the date of this year's conference for the 6th of August. You know, when I arrive in the USA. In two weeks. Because the world revolves around me, didn't you know?

I have exactly two weeks of work left; which breaks down into 9 working days. NINE DAYS. No doubt the next NINE DAYS are going to be the slowest NINE DAYS in the history of the world. Add the fact that I have loads to do in those NINE DAYS and then a day after that NINE DAYS, I will be in San Francisco (!??!) and you can see how my brain is scattered all over the place.

Oh, and it's my birthday next week, hoorah!

I'm fairly planned for the big USA trip. I booked this trip with a work colleague last year, and seeing as it now JULY of 2008, I am officially freaked out. I always had the whole moving to another country distraction to get through first, and all of a sudden I've been in London for seven months? When the hell did that happen?

Anyway, back to the trip organisational stuff;

• I've organised my shuttle to Heathrow. (All by my lonesome, mind you, as the other half is away on business and not able to come with me. I don't like this whole acting like grown up nonsense. What if the shuttle doesn't arrive? What if the dreaded Terminal 5 eats my luggage? What if a giant caterpillar eats my face off while I sleep? I am full of worry. I am a worry wart. It's what I do.)


• I've organised Oscar to be staying in a cattery while I'm away. (Did I mention that J is on a business trip and not able to mind our child? I must say, the place the kitty is going to is on a farm, huge giant pens and looks amazing, so no doubt he'll have an awesome holiday too. But still . . .  worry. What if he catches fleas? Or cries the whole time he is there? Or loves it so much that he doesn't know who I am when we pick him up? Sigh.)


• I've googled the weather in the States right now, and am slightly - alright - extremely paranoid. It's a freaking heat wave. It's close to 50oC in Vegas right now. I am going to DIE! (Seriously, why did I plan a summer holiday? Why didn't I go in the middle of winter. Damn you, heat waves. I need to invest in some serious anti-persperent, methinks.)


• I've sort of thought about my budget, even though it's slightly non-existant at this point, as I don't get paid again until 1st August. Shit. I'm very thrifty, so it will be bargains all the way for me. I intend on spending hours wandering around Walmart or Old Navy, because damn! Clothes! Cheap stuff! CINNAMON FLAVOURED TOOTHPASTE. Poptarts! You guys have it all.


• I've got together my itinerary and worked out which days I will be popping through which cities. I've also emailed it out to my awesome blogging friends, in hopes that I will meet some people across the way. (Well, actually, NO, I haven't, because I AM LAZY. And also didn't realise that I am leaving this country IN A FORTNIGHT and where did the time go?) I will do that tonight.

All in all, I am super excited, not as organised as I would like to be, but really, really ready for this awesome holiday. Now all I need is to screw my head back on, get on with these emails, and try my best not to spend any $$ over the next fortnight.

(OMG, fortnight!)

A Story about a Cat and his Dangly Thing.

Once upon a time there lived a sweet & innocent somewhat strange kitten teenage cat called Oscar. One day, his momma personal slave recieved a parcel from her dear friend Kirby. Inside that parcel, nestled snugly up against the Twilight books that had been kindly sent across the shores, was a cat toy.

It looked a little something like this:

That toy, my friends, was attached to a cord, which in turn was attached to a stick. It dangles. It is a toy of dangly goodness. It also jingles. The girl couldn't wait to get home and give it to her slightly insane cat.

At first, he feigned indifference:

After a while though, the curiosity killed the cat eventually took over:

And soon turned into a sort-of fixed and slightly evil obsession:

After approximately ten minutes, the pair had an inseparable bond. They also appeared to share the same exact facial expression:

The toy from Aunty Kirby was a vast success. The girl has not yet been able to pry it out of Oscar's paws for the last week or so, and has more than once  complained about the jingly noise that goes along with it. The hero of our story is not concerned by this, and instead blows raspberries in their general direction:

The End.

Blog Share: Anony-Blogger.

It's that time again - time for some anonymous blogging. Please take the time to read the posts by the bloggers listed at the bottom of this page, where the authors are scattered across the internet. As always, please respect the person who is sharing on my blog today, and feel free to leave comments as you usually would. I'm sure they would appreciate them!

****
We had heard through the grapevine of friends that my spouse's friend was moving across the country to our general area. Eventually, my spouse talked to his friend, who confirmed that he was indeed moving near us. We didn't hear anything for a few months, so we didn't worry about it. One night we got a call from my spouse's friend, who said that he was halfway done with his two-day move across the country, and could he move in with us the next day. THE NEXT DAY.

My spouse said he would have to ask me, and then while he was on the phone with his friend, asked if the friend could move in the next day. I said yes, but we would have to talk about rent and a time limit on the stay. My spouse said ok and told his friend that he could move in with us THE NEXT DAY.

To give you a little background information, I have always thought my spouse's friend was flaky and irresponsible. My spouse didn't really see the flakiness, always forgave it, or refused to acknowledge it. I am not exactly sure what my spouse thought about the friend. All I know is that if I were to say a bad thing against the friend, it made my spouse defensive and upset.

My spouse's friend moved in with us. I expected an almost 30 year old person moving across the country to have saved up some money for the move that had been planned for 6 months, but of course my spouse's friend had not done saved anything. I told my spouse that his friend could stay with us until he found a job and got one or two paychecks, and then he had to move out. I set a 3 month maximum stay. My spouse said that was fine, but my spouse wanted to be the one to talk to his friend about it. He didn't want me to talk to the friend about it. I said fine. I did notice that my spouse's friend was eating our groceries though, so I politely pointed out to my spouse's friend that we had cleaned out a shelf in the refrigerator and a shelf in the pantry for the food he bought himself, but if he needed more room, he should let us know. The next day, my spouse's friend went to the grocery store and bought his own food. My spouse was annoyed that I said anything, but it worked.

The friend had a lot of job interviews but didn't get anything right away. He took a part-time retail job to get out of the house and make some money, and after a little over two months, found a really great full-time job. My spouse's friend told my spouse that he wanted to stay with us until he saved up the down payment for an apartment. My spouse told his friend that was ok, and I didn't see it as a problem because it should only take another two to four weeks for his friend to save enough.

After a few weeks, my spouse's friend told my spouse that he wanted to stay with us until he paid off his credit car debt and his car loan (another four or five months). My spouse didn't tell me this, and I kept waiting for the announcement that my spouse's friend was moving. I finally asked my spouse when the move-out date was, and my spouse told me about the debt. My spouse's friend had been living with us for four months at this point. I told my spouse that he had two weeks to tell his friend that he needed to move out, or I would tell the friend myself. My spouse was mad, but he agreed. About a week after my discussion with my spouse, the friend told my spouse that he wanted to stay with us for an additional four months. My spouse said he would have to ask me. I was livid. I was angry with both my spouse for being a pushover and at the friend for being a mooch.

The next day while I was at work, I called my spouse's friend and left him a voicemail saying that we needed to have a serious talk that night. When we all got home, my spouse's friend announced that he had found an apartment, paid the first month's rent that evening, and would be moving out in a month (five months after he had moved in). I am assuming he got the hint about what I wanted to discuss that night. He asked us to help him move, but we were going to be out of town that weekend. I wouldn't have helped anyway, but I am sure my spouse would have.

We got back from our weekend out of town, and my spouse's friend was gone. The floors were covered in mud where my spouse's friend had tracked it walking in and out of the house during the move. The bathroom and bedroom my spouse's friend had been using were filthy. But he was gone, hallelujah.

We still see my spouse's friend from time to time because he is in the same friend circle as some people we really like. My spouse's attitude is that his friend needed help, and it was our job to provide it, and maybe his friend was not the most considerate person ever, but it's over so everything is fine now. I can't really get over it. I think my spouse's friend is an irresponsible, inconsiderate, manipulative person, and I struggle to be civil to him. I wish it were not such a struggle just to smile politely, but it really is.

***

Here are the other bloggers participating this time around. Check them out!

Vent Vox
Turn On The Stars
Trudie - Life After AC
Swimming With Sharks
Stefanie Says
Shhh! Librarian-In-Training
Sauntering Soul
Sass Attack
Reflections in the Snow Covered Hills
Red Red Whine
Our Simplicity
One New Duck
Oh My Seven
The Occasional Truth
No Lady
Nancy Pearl Wannabe
Muse On Vacation
Messing With Texas
Melliferous Pants
Lizland
Live Work Dream
Just Below 63
Jonniker
Java Literally
Heidikins
Full of Snark
Face Down
Ex Everything
Everything I Like Causes Cancer
Did I Say That Outloud?
The Daily Tannenbaum
The Coconut Diaries
Citystreams
Catheroominations
Bright Yellow World
Breath Smiles Tears
And You Know What Else
Aly
3 Carnations

Six Inches.*

Leave it to me to abandon my blog with the hint of visiting a hairdresser, and then forgetting to update. For all you know, I could have been and gone to the salon and spent the last week rocking myself in a corner from the trauma of it all, but actually, no. I'm just forgetful. And buggered up the appointment time, which it turns out wasn't until this afternoon.

I'll confess: I'm still a wee bit wary of hairdressers, ever since one cut in five thousand awful layers (which are still growing out, by the way) into my nice, one-length locks. Visiting a new salon is always a bit stressful for long-haired girls, because for the most part, they make you trim it to grow it better.

(Dudes! My hair is my cloak. I need to hide behind it!)

To cut a long story short, here are some bits and bobs to summarise.

• The stylist is awesome. She owns the place, she listens, and she has pretty hair too.


• She told me that yes, as usual, I'd need to cut it for it to keep growing healthier, but that she'd do it bit by bit so I wouldn't be too traumatised.


• She told me I had pretty hair.


• I listened to her, and she knew what she was on about.

I ended up chopping off 6 inches of hair. SIX FREAKING INCHES. But the difference between this chop and the last, is that she made it look decent. And aside from a longish fringe, it's basically mostly the same length, especially at the back. Mama likey! It's been a while since my fine hair was the same length, and now it feels a lot thicker. My lovely stylist also did these nice swooshy curly ends to it, however walking home in the wind blew them all out right away. Hrm.

So yes. I'll try and take a picture of it tomorrow when it's more normal (aka, flatter than a pancake) and you can judge it for yourselves. No doubt I'll be missing it when I comb it tomorrow (six inches, wherefore art thou, six inches?) but it's still long.

* Of HAIR, you perve. Sheesh!

Getting My Hair Did.

So . . . I'm booked in for a haircut next week. Because, let's face it, I suck at change - I figured I'd put it out there and see if you style gurus could help me suck it up and maybe, just maybe end up looking decent at the end of my salon visit.

Here's a bit of my (hairy) background: it's finally getting long again, after a bloody long time of restoring it after the choppy layered haircut of death a few years ago. It's always been quite thin and despite being dead straight, it does get a bit frizzy now and then. Despite being dry, the top always tends to get oilier faster, and I'm a very low maintenance girl when it comes to products. (In other words: I don't use anything.)

What I tend to stick with: I tend to grow it all out and long, then get frustrated and chop in a fringe and layers, which I end up hating with a passion. I do think I need a bit of a fringe, but I'm not sure I want more layers. I also don't want to chop it, because the last time I went shoulder length, I sat in the salon and bawled my eyes out for a good half hour. Let's just say I'm attached to the length.

This is sort of what it looks like now. (Notice I've resorted to pinning bits of it back because it looks seriously, seriously awful.) Worst part is, this is on a good day!

Right. Care to help me with advice? Celebrity pictures? Links? I need some advice, stat!

Low Maintenance or Missing Out?

I'm going to share a couple of things with you about myself that are relatively random, yet newly discovered. I've been chatting to a few of the girls at my work, who are always running off to one appointment to the other - on their lunch breaks, after work, on the weekends.

Me? I'm generally so knackered, I'm straight back home after work - with the exception of taking the kitty to the vets, as I did yesterday. I'm a homebody. It's true. I also don't like doing things 'for the first time'. I hate going to new doctors surgeries or dentists, because they're unfamiliar. Once I've been there I'm okay, but that first time literally has my stomach in knots. I guess that explains why I'm still yet to go and register with a doctors surgery in the UK yet.

As for putting things off, would you still be my friend if I told you I haven't had a haircut since I arrived in London ... last December?* I've had way too many traumatic experiences at hairdressers, so I've been procrastinating finding one here. Oh, as well as refusing to pay an insane amount of money in Pounds Sterling for someone to snip off some hair.

It got me thinking though; there are a lot of semi-indulgent activities that I have never experienced before.

Facial? Nope.
Manicure? Never.
Pedicure? Nada.
Massage or Spa Day? Nuh-uh.

My American colleague Sara thinks I should just hold out for my visit to the States, because apparently those sorts of places are located everywhere over there, and will be much cheaper too. It sounds pretty fantastic too, getting pampered while travelling. Bugger this camping nonsense, I'm a spa and hotel kind of gal!

Have I been missing out? What's the ultimate indulgence? Do tell.

*Note: You'll be pleased to know that I've finally booked in for a haircut at a salon I found near the vet clinic. Come back tomorrow, as I'll desperately need your advice: what should I have done?