The Dangers of Stationery

I just hideously dismembered my finger on a stapler.  Staplers are ridiculous contraptions which never EVER work properly. Oh yeah, they're your best friend while you're clicking away at your papers, but then they turn evil when they run out of staples.  It's just like when a crocodile runs out of food and you try to give it some more (which I obviously do regularly).  It'll take your bloody arm off before you even get a chance to throw a chunk of meat at it.  Unless of course you're the Irwins, in which case you're immune to both crocodile and stapler attacks.  I refuse to believe that anyone has ever put staples into their stapler without somehow getting stapled.  Whoever designed the stapler is a sadist and should be fed to the crocodiles themselves.  And it's a stupid name - stapler.  Dumb.

Stationery can be dangerous. There are just so many things that can go wrong I can't believe it doesn't come with a warning.

Sticky tape is fraught with danger.  Have you ever stuck lengths of tape on your arm (or other body part) to use at later date?  OK, perhaps it's just me.  But I tell you, taking that sticky tape off hurts.  A lot!  And don't even get me started on double-sided tape.  That's just cruel. 

Binders are horrific.  Have you ever got your finger pinched by one of those lever arch thingys?  Yeah, well that bloody hurts too.  But no one tells you about that, do they?  Oh no, it's just a harmless folder to store papers in.

And how many times have you been left thinking you were morbidly obese because your calculator couldn't work out your BMI correctly?  See, it's not just physical pain these contraptions inflict on us, it's emotional as well!

Have you ever accidentally hit yourself on the head with a ruler?  Of course you have.  It hurts!  And then there's the old 'draw coming too far out of the filing cabinet' trick.  Have you ever been crushed by a filing cabinet draw?  It hurts too!

And don't tell me they don't make toner cartridges to deliberately self destruct as soon as you try to change them.  Toner goes everywhere and if the dust is bad enough you might even get a touch of asthma.

Don't ever buy an office chair with armrests. Notice how they design them so that when you move yourself into the table your hands get stuck between the table and the armrest?  That's no accident.

So, next time you get what you think is a simple paper cut, think again.  That paper has more than likely been recruited into the evil cult of the stapler, and if they get hold of the hole punch, you can kiss your hand goodbye.

The worst thing in the world

Well, it appears I've dodged the stomach bug, which of course is a great relief but also mildly disappointing since I scoffed that whole packet of chips yesterday. 

In my opinion there is no worse thing in the world than a stomach bug.  Yes, I know there is poverty, disease, famine and Justin Beiber, but I truly believe cleaning up the aftermath of a stomach bug makes all of these issues pale in comparison.  I have such an issue with it that I simply can't do it.  Poor Matt is generally left to clean the mess and I'm left to stand at a distance relaying my sympathy. 

If you do decide to partake in the stomach bug, I highly recommend the 5 star hotel room.  We had the misfortune of being on holidays in New Zealand when Emily came down with a stomach bug.  (I'm not entirely convinced the misfortune was the stomach bug.  It was possibly just being in New Zealand).  We were staying at the Holiday Inn.  It was about midnight when Emily decided to purge her guts up all over the bed sheets.  We simply wrapped up the sheets, rang housekeeping who came and collected them and gave us nice new sheets.  That is the way stomach bugs should be handled.

Amazingly Emily managed to hold on for our 4 hour train journey the next day, only to vomit in the foyer of our next hotel.  Perfect timing yet again.  I was so proud. 

Unfortunately this time it was just Matt and I with no housekeeping staff to assist.  He did a stirling job cleaning up as usual while I updated my status on Facebook. Of course I'm then the one stuck at home with a sick child, but thankfully there was only one more incident and she at least managed to get to the bathroom on time. I like to think she really makes the effort for me since she knows my aversion to vomit.  She's nice like that.

Thankfully Emily seems to have recovered enough to go to school tomorrow and I will make the effort to start my routine yet again.  I still don't know what that routine will involve but it will more than likely start with a trip to the gym to get rid of those bloody chips.

Accidental exercise.....try some today!

I went to the gym the other day.  I realise that in itself doesn't sound like a great feat, however I'm not a big fan of the gym.  In fact, I'm not a massive fan of  any "exercise on purpose".  I like accidental exercise, like the long walk home from the pub, having to walk up stairs when the lift is broken and building sandcastles at the beach (that wet sand can be mighty heavy).

Anyway, for some reason I joined a gym at the beginning of the year.  And I went regularly.  It took me a while to work out what I liked to do which quickly eliminated most things, however I did enjoy fart-arseing around on the cross-trainer while the Winter Olympics was on the big TV.  It made me feel like quite the athlete.  And being on the cross-trainer was a good choice cause if I closed my eyes and really, really concentrated, I could almost convince myself I was skiing.  Awesome, I know.

After quite a few months of going to the gym I have come to the conclusion there are 3 types of people who go to gyms.  The first group is the biggest.  These are the people who go to the gym on a regular basis, normally once or twice a week.  It's part of their routine and they have a particular class or activity that they're happy doing.  They go for no other reason than to maintain their fitness and health.  I like to think I fall into this category. 

The next group are the wannabes.  They turn up, normally really, really unfit or overweight and puff around pretending they're enjoying themselves when they are clearly turning purple and about to pass out.  They last a few weeks until the call of Oprah, a bucket of KFC and a gin and tonic is just too much to resist.

The final group are for me, the most disturbing of all.  They are the ones that are at the gym every time you go, no matter when that may be.  I reckon there's at least a dozen of them at my gym (and no they're not the staff!).  I could go at 10am on a Tuesday and they'd be there pumping up their muscles, I could go at 4pm on a Friday and they'd be there pretending to ride a bike somewhere.  I could turn up to the bottle shop next door on a weekend and there they are, standing at the door to the gym waiting for it to open.

These people are freaks but are clearly very fit and beautiful.  Good on 'em.  The one thing I haven't been able to work out is why these very same people are the ones who will wait 5 mins for a parking spot as close to the door as possible rather than walk from one of the myriad of empty parking spots less than 50 metres away.  Perhaps their leg muscles are so big that if they walk too far they get a rash? Who knows, but I'd suggest these gym junkies might like to practice some accidental exercise.  You never know, they might just accidentally get a life.

May I be struck down by lightning.

I got "tagged" in NessaKnits blog.  I'm scared it runs on the same principle as one of those chain mails.  If I don't complete the assigned task I'm sure to have bad luck for the next 43 years, or perhaps all my hair will fall out, or I'll start watching netball.  Either way, it won't be good.  Therefore I shall copy and paste and do my bit.  Here goes.....


4 things that..... are usually in my handbag


1.  My mobile phone.  I can't be without it.  I need to be able to consult my shopping list, text or check my calender at all times.  I switched it off for 2 hours in the movies today and was struggling to breathe.
2.  My purse.  It has stuff I need in it, but very rarely money.  It also has a photo of Emily in it, which is handy if I forget what she looks like.
3.  Pens.  Lots of pens.  They have been stolen from various hotels around the world.  Many are broken, but they all have a memory.
4.  Lipstick.  I'm not sure why.  It's generally a colour I don't tend to wear and because the lid keeps coming off, has lots of gritty dirty bits in it.


4 things that..... are in my bedroom


1.  Ted.  That's my teddy bear.  I've had him since I was a baby and he sits beside my bed keeping guard to make sure all the evil teddy bears with stitches and one eye missing don't attack me.
2.  A full length mirror that makes me look much skinnier than I really am.  I like this mirror and will never throw it away.
3.  My husband.  He is generally on the other side of the bed.  I can tell when he's there because a sound rather like a fog horn cuts through the night time silence.
4.  Shoes.  I love shoes and if my husband didn't insist on owning clothes I would use his side of the wardrobe to store more of them.




4 things that ..... I would like to do but never did


1.  I should have kept playing tennis.  I was good at it, but had no ambition.  I'm disappointed I didn't at least give myself a chance to turn professional and become a lesbian.
2.  I would have liked to have kept in touch with a few more of my school friends.  After attending a recent reunion I realised I liked them a lot more than I realised.
3.  I would have liked to have bought that extra pair of shoes.
4.  I would have liked to write a book (and yay for me that's something I can still do).


4 things that .... you don't know about me 


1.  I have double jointed elbows.  I'm sure this comes in handy for something.  I just haven't worked it out yet.
2.  I hate talking on the phone.  It annoys me.  Those awkward silences when you're waiting for the other person to talk, or when you both talk at the same time.  And then when people ring just "for a chat".  Seriously, don't ring me unless you've got something important to tell me.
3.  I once dated a guy for no other reason than that he had a really nice car.  He ended up dumping me because I only ever wanted to go for drive.
4.  I have played strip poker......and lost.




Now, at this point I'm supposed to tag 4 people so they can play too, but tonight I feel like living on the edge, so I'm not going to.  I look forward to the next 24hrs where I'll no doubt be attacked by a black cat, struck by lightning or be forced to listen to a whole Nickelback song. 

The people we meet.....

I did something quite out of character this week.  I went to a multi-dimensional healer.  “What the hell is that?” I hear you ask.  Well, not surprisingly, I’m still not entirely sure.  It all started at my friend’s jewellery party last week.  You know the girl’s night out?   I met a lady there who was really nice.  Let’s just call her Freaky Crystal Lady with Special Powers.  Anyway, we chat for a bit and she asks me what I do.  I tell her I’m a housewife.  I’m fairly sure she was impressed.  When I asked her what she did, she explained she was a multi-dimensional healer.  I hate it when people just have to get one up on me, like they’re soooo special.  So I’m curious enough to ask her a few questions, and she gave me a brief run-down of what she does.  I then found myself asking for her business card. 

Anyway, as my week continued to plummet downhill I decided to pay her a visit.  I figured if nothing else I’d get an hour of peace and it would give me something to write about.    So I turn up to her rooms which are in the back of a hair salon and am made to sit in a little waiting room with running water which is supposed to be soothing but only succeeds in making me run to the toilet.  Whilst there I wonder what the hell I’m doing here and what exactly I think might need healing anyway.  But I don’t want to be a wuss (well, that and there’s a $25 cancellation fee) so I prepare myself for the worst. 

Freaky Crystal Lady with Special Powers comes and collects me and I silently say goodbye to my family and friends in the assumption that I am being taken into some abyss never to return.  Her room is nice.  Kind of like a little chiropractors office but with dim lighting, candles and more  running water.  She put on nice music that is sold by dreadlocked men and women in hippy organic music/food stores and made me take my shoes off and lay on the massage-like table.  She then proceeded to explain what she was going to do and it took all my will power not to laugh out loud.  This woman who seems so normal was going to wave crystals above me, then touch me and open up my Chakras.  I’m not entirely sure what a Chakra is apart from a bad 80’s singer, but in any case it turns out many of mine were closed.

From memory if the crystal doesn’t move, then that particular chakra is closed, if it swings from side to side it’s half-closed and if it swings around in circles then it’s open.  Come on, stay with me here.  I had to go through this so you’ve got to too.  Anyway, one of mine was swinging around wildly which apparently means it’s really, really open.  She asked me if I was very sexual.  Are you fucking kidding?  “Um, no.” I reply.  Well, then it is your creativity which is going wild.  Fair enough then. 

So, I’m told to just relax, close my eyes and think of nothing.  Sure, cause it’s soooo easy to think of nothing.  And we started.  Now, as you may have guessed I’m slightly sceptical about, well, everything, but I decided to just lay there and do as she asked.  During the course of the hour some very odd things happened.  Firstly, she chanted in some weird language.  I’m not sure who she was talking to but when no one responded she gave up and went silent.  Not long after that my breath became irregular.  Not enough to think there was something wrong, but I definitely felt my breath catching for no real reason and I also experienced a strange sensation in my legs.  I suspect they were just going numb from laying in the same spot for too long, but you never know.

After the hour was up I was told to take off my mask and open my eyes.  Well, I just couldn’t.  I tried, I really did, but my eyes just would not open.  This was a very odd situation.  She told me to just lay there until I was ready, which I did, and then all was well.  We then had a chat and discussed some very interesting things, which will mean nothing to anyone apart from me.  Either she’d somehow managed to do some research on me or she may just be a Freaky Crystal Lady with Special Powers.  I’m curious enough to find out so I’m going to go back and see her again.  I’m not sure if anything is healed but she’s a lovely lady and I get to have a nice rest for an hour.  I just might ask her to turn off the water next time.

Is this as good as it gets?

So yesterday was the big day.  Melbourne Cup Day....."the race that stops a nation".  So they say.  I've been looking forward to this day for a while.  A fun proper girl's day out where we get to dress up in clothes we wouldn't wear any other time of year and act like teenagers.  Unfortunately the day didn't quite go to plan.  Emily had a rather large issue at school the previous day, so I had to pay her teacher a visit to confirm that she isn't quite as disturbed as her behaviour indicated.  Or perhaps she is.  Who knows.  In any case, she'll either grow up to be a stripper or a politician, so interesting times ahead.

Anyway, I got that sorted then rushed home to prepare for my big social day.  I needed to get a bit of work done first which was interrupted by the Jehovah's Witness dudes at the door.  We live a long way from anywhere, so I figure if someone wants to make the effort to come find us to talk about the Bible, then I'll listen to what they've got to say.  We always end up having a spirited discussion.  Thankfully this guy knew when he was flogging a dead horse, so he glanced in the door and commented how he loved our polished timber floors.  It was at this point I knew he'd given up on converting me and was probably going to try and sell me floor cleaner (or carpet).

Of course once I'd said goodbye to my new found friend I realised I was running quite late.  So I chucked my dress and hat on and attempted to cover up the sand fly bites on my legs.  Thankfully I was wearing a huge hat which covered the complete lack of attention to my hair and which was hopefully going to take the attention away from my chicken pox-like legs.  I pulled out my new clutch bag which I bought especially to go with the dress and shoes only to find that nothing fits in it.  Seriously, who makes a bag that you can't put anything in?  Bloody ridiculous.  So I ended up taking a 20 year old handbag cause it kind of matched, but frankly was just stupid looking. 

I made it to the restaurant and had a very enjoyable lunch with my Year 1 friends, plus two women who I didn't know.  They were Year 4 Mums which none of us knew who somehow got themselves invited.  Odd.  Anyway, one of them won the $10 sweep.  Bitch.  I won a bottle of champagne for Best Hat which is awesome.  Now the hat I only wear once a year only owes me $330.  What a bargain!

I stumbled out of the restaurant leaving the last two friends there complaining about their husband/ex-husband and wondering if this is as good as it gets.  In many ways it was a great day, but somehow it just wasn't a proper Melbourne Cup day.  My shoes stayed on all day, I didn't dance, didn't fall over, didn't catch a taxi, didn't spill a drink, didn't go to a sleazy nightclub and didn't wake up with a hangover.  It was almost an anti-climax, and I'm left wondering exactly the same thing my drunk friends were wondering yesterday.  Is this as good as it gets?

Seriously, who smells like that?!

I've been doing a bit of research lately into different foods.  You see I've had a few bowel problems which is just ridiculous.  Can you believe it?!!  I'm 37 years old and I’m already being asked to scoop my shit up into a little cup.  I got those test results back which confirmed I had good quality poo amongst other things. 

In a few weeks I'm supposed to go and have a blood test for gluten intolerance and some other letters which have no real meaning to me.  I’m hoping I’m gluten intolerant.  I’ve never really been able to keep up with fashions and trends in the past, but I think I could be right up with this one.  How cool would it be to have to go to the special gluten free bakery and shop in hippy organic food stores.  And I’ve always wanted to be one of those annoying people who brings their own bread to cafes.  I’m so impressed the staff don’t just tell them to piss off!  I’m getting quite excited about the prospect of being diagnosed gluten intolerant, so I’m hoping it doesn’t turn out to have been just be some lame stomach bug.  My doctor also thought I may have had a rare hernia.  This is just getting too good.  Next I’ll need a hip replacement.

So anyway, I've been watching what I've been eating and taking note of any unusual occurences.  I've made some interesting discoveries.  Bread and pasta does in fact make me feel pretty crappy, tinned salmon and tuna makes my breath smell, hamburgers make me burp, onion leaves a horrible taste in my mouth, chocolate gives me pimples and wine gives me a hangover.  But I reckon the most annoying food issue I have by far is "asparagus wee".  It stinks.  Just one little nibble of asparagus and you would swear my insides have gone toxic.  Disgusting.

I'm reminded of this tonight as I sit at the other end of the house from the bathroom after having emptied a tin of air freshner to cancel out the asparagus wee smell.  Well, I'm assuming it's just that and not some rare kidney disease.  No doubt I'll be pissing in a little cup sometime soon and then we'll know for sure.