I Did, but then I Didn't!

I did think of something to blog about this morning, but as the day turned into one of those  where one sweated ones makeup off before 8.30am due to too much multi tasking, my scintillating blog idea appears to have vanished. I also think the fact that I have said the words 'meta data' about 67359482 times today may be a contributing factor as well.

I did however eagerly await to see if the fruit was delivered on time this morning. It appears having the fruit arrive on time has become an issue this year. Yesterdays excuse was my favourite which was, "the driver broke the truck because he forgot to put petrol in it". I guess that wasn't listed as a key competancy on his job description then. Todays was somewhat dull, "You do know we have moved locations this year". As you can imagine I almost exploded from resisting the urge to yell loudly, "did you not think it a good idea to leave earlier then?"

So really all I can think to waffle on about is one of those deep philosophical conundrums which is; why is it when you are poor the shops have masses and masses of clothes and shoes that are screaming at you to purchase them, yet when one has some loot to fritter there is nothing around that appeals?

I Wish I Was 5 Again

....so then I could throw a huge screaming kicking tantrum in the middle of the street so that Mummy would buy me this;

Oh Trelise, why have you not made it in big people sizes, I just know I would get soooo much wear out of each item.  Yearn, yearn.

The Sunday Fair

Last Sunday was the annual fair in my fab city fringe suburb, where the streets are closed off and the masses from all those not so fabbo suburbs come to browse the stalls, eat the food and listen to all the music provided.

The day always starts quite stressful for me as I have to get to the market for my vegetables and get home in time to not lose my car park. This also has to be done sans coffee as I can't get to the coffee shop because of the road closures. It turned out that this year the suburban unfortunates started to arrive much earlier as I lost my car park. As you can imagine I was Not Happy, and yes that was me driving round in circles with the window open yelling "you dumbfuk c***face stupid people, if you parked properly I could get in there!". The suburban unfortunates had parked so badly there were lots of almost car sized spaces, but none large enough. However with the aid of a couple of wheels on the footpath I managed to "park". A quick unpack of the veges then it was time to wander down amongst the masses.

Now that I have a new pink gadget I can give you some images of the afternoons wanderings. The first thing that caught my eye was this chap and all his feathers

At first I felt sorry for him thinking how hot he must have been with his costume and all the feathers, but as the tune he was playing took 48 hours to leave my head, I hope he sweltered and got a rash to match.

A bit further on was a t shirt stall with a couple of prints that amused, and of course as I'd had a coffee issue that morning this one was most relevent.

One didn't purchase any though as my companion for the day, who works for a t shirt screen printing business, was having some form of apoplexy at the prices. We hurried on. The next stall I was keen to see was one I visit every year in the futile hope they will have one in my size.

Sigh. A good tutu is hard to find. I yearn for a tutu.

This book also caught my eye, I'm sure it could be useful, but I didn't have enough loot.

Finally hunger and heat got to me so it was off to the roti caravan for a scoff, and new this year was a portable wood fired pizza stall, double scoff. I then turned around to start on the last few stalls and what do I see on the main stage but a pair of lesbians.

One of the performers tried to tell me to fuk off and sing at the same time, so I had resist the urge to yell loudly, "new gadget Geri, you are sooooo all over facebook!"

Those of you who were also at the fair will notice that there is one type of stall I haven't mentioned or provided an image of, and that is the soap stalls. The fukkin soaps stalls to be exact. It seems making soap, and the associated smelly products that are sold alongside it, have taken over from preserves as the market stall de jour. Sorry guys, give me a bag of fudge and home made cake any day.

I finished the day with  a wee visit to the tomatoes and their owners,

And came home with a bag of freshly killed organic spuds which I am still slowly consuming.

All to be repeated the same time next year, except I will rememer to put sunblock on. Whimper.

It's all Pink

I've just had a huge week with some exciting surprises in amongst the outrageous hours I did at work. The only slight low point was putting RTTB back on the plane home for another few weeks. Whimper.

My first suprise was the letter handed to me Monday morning. The actual letter wasn't a surprise as I had my own to hand out, the number inside it was. I know I should just acknowledge that it's the result of all my hard work, but I do still feel very blessed and lucky.

The other surprise was an unexpected parcel that arrived later in the week. When I got home and saw it, I quickly whisked it upstairs to open, all the while wondering why the child wasn't clamouring to see what was inside. Not wanting to ruin the surprise I opened it with my eyes closed at I didn't want to read what was on the customs slip.

I was most surprised when I saw what was inside, a lovely piece of electronica that is bright pink, and no smut minds it's a gadget, not a toy. I immediately opened it and got the battery charging so I could play with it, well figure out how to use it really. I then went to clean up the packaging on my bed when some more pinkness caught my eye, I hadn't really seen it in my haste to open the initial box, and there it was lying on my bed. Pink Bubblewrap! It is just soooooo cooooool. I've never seen pink bubblewrap before.

The next day at work I was talking with my colleagues about the pink bubblewrap (and the fab gift) and they were equally impressed by it's awesomeness, and were as divided as I am on whether to pop it, or put it away for use at a later date. I did promise them a wee section. In my thank you email to the kind benefactress I did point out that the pink bubblewrap has garnered as much excitement as the gift itself.

I am now torn, as I promised my workmates some pink bubblewrap, and I know that I should give them some as one must share good fortune around, but I am feeling very petulant and selfish about it.  I have of course been good and cut off a piece for them, and now due to the other piece of pink awesomeness I can show you.

I think I've been very generous really under the circumstances.

Self Inflicted Child Abuse

Over the last few months the child has decided that Mummy's healthy salads and wraps are far too dull for one as worldly as her, so has taken to getting her portion of protein and cooking her own dinner. Sometimes she forgets to cook the protein, especially when she has made mashed potatoes, but I guess with the amount of butter and cheese put into them, they have enough protein on their own.

Tonight she has made chicken breast curry as there was coconut cream leftover from sago making yesterday. She googled an "easy" curry recipe, totally ignoring the two Asian food and cookery encyclopaedic books on the shelf, and another cook book that is only curry.

I started to pay attention when asked if we had any garlic powder, as of course I would never have anything as vile as that in the house. I pointed her to the basket of fresh garlic and the mortar and pestle. After a while a rather pleasant aroma started to waft through so I went to check out the cooking. The curry looked a nice colour and smelled fine, so I bravely poked a fork in and fished out a piece of potato (and that is homegrown organic backyard Kilbirnie potato, no ordinary spuds here). As I was about to sample the piece I was told that it was a bit spicy, so steeled myself. I did manage to consume the piece of potato, just.

I then calmly enquired as to what was in the curry. It really was quite hard to keep a straight face when told it contained a TABLESPOON of cayenne. I fear the child may suffer "repercussions" after she consumes her dinner.

Bliss, I think I'm going to enjoy this form of Mothers revenge.

Child Abuse by Proxy

As the child gets older the opportunities for child abuse are getting slimmer, one really only has the extraction of the internet cable left as the main form. Sadly that is also losing it's humour value, as the internet is so much more vital in these late teenage years that most tasks are now completed within an hour of the cable being removed.

Over the last couple of days though a new very pleasing form of child abuse has emerged. The city council is laying new drainage pipes in the street and they are starting work with all their heavy machinery around 6.30am. The child is not amused as it is getting woken up much much too early.

I am quietly sniggering. Child abuse by proxy, I'm liking this.

Speechless

Well semi speechless over this story. If I start I will end up on a long anti fundamentalist christian rant, with a sub rant on narrow minded, fascist, racist, bigoted, sexist American fundamentalist christians, the birth place of the born agains. Instead I will just say, I'm kind of liking the blonde mullet.

Lesbian - the New Black

Yes I know it's last weeks news, but as I was out of town doing pleasurable things, catching up on the Sunday Paper gossip wasn't high up on that list of activities. By the time I looked at the story it was already being played down, as it should be because it really is up to the individual how they want to handle their coming out, if they ever do. Hint, hint Jillian.

I see Cactus is only interested in the increased pickings now that a hot babe is off the hetero market, but I think I prefer the rationale that NZAlien pitched to me which is; by getting such a hot woman joining our team do we now get to kick off a few off the butt uglies? I think that's fair.

I do think though that if you are an attractive woman newsreader then Lesbian is the new black. Remember the goddess Anita McNaught, there was always gossip about her.

Yup, she's still hot. And then of course there's Rebecca Singh.......

You will need to re read this old post to see why I have defaced this image. I see there is already speculation out there in blog land of a hook up between Ms Singh and Ms Mau.

Then there is this gorgeous speciman, though more news maker/reporter than news reader.

You can find more images of her here. Not only is she hot, but she has brains as well.

Even the BBC has a got a hot lesbian newsreader.

Though of course much too girly and femme for my tastes, but I'm sure she stirs the male of the species in the same way that Ms Mau does.

So it seems that news reading can now be classed as a leading lesbian occupation. Gutted they're all so girly though.

60 Up

That is the title of a piece of Nana porn given to RTTB by a colleague who knows of the boy's penchant for older women. This magazine caused a lot of conversation and discussion over the weekend, with the main question being why?

Why would anyone read it? Why would they find any of the images sensual or erotic?

Apparently there are publications called 30 Up, 40 Up etc, and this one came into being due to customer demand, the market asked for it. Somewhat like the aforementioned butch calendar the quality of this publication is utter crap, in fact it makes the calendar look like a Hefner product in comparison. I was almost too scared to touch it originally as I feared the ink would rub off on me, but then realised that the original owner would be the one wearing any loose ink.

A straight male dinner guest asked if I found it offensive or degrading to women, and the answer was no. This is because the majority of the images were SENT IN BY READERS. Yes, you can see the tea cup sitting on the table by the sofa.

The only thing that I found at all disturbing is that one of the models with a large, ahem, spread looks like two of my staff. I now find myself looking at these women and trying to banish the word centrefold from my mind. It makes you look at the Nana's in a while new light.

Book Cover

I was reminded today of a classic Nana saying which is "never judge a book by its cover", and how true that saying is sometimes.

I blogged recently of how I would love this butch calendar, and lucky me, a very kind reader has sent it to me. I was so excited when it arrived, until I took it out of it's cellophane wrapper. Quite frankly it's a total piece of shite. The cover is the best part of it.

First up is the quality of the paper it is printed on, and note the word paper. It feels like it's about 120 gsm tops, and the cover is the same weight as the contents. The images are average, though I do think they appear worse than they are due to the print quality. Fuk me whoever signed off on the colour tones should be shot. Also, assuming it is the print job that is doing it, several of the women look as though they have a nasty red body rash, or wicked acne.

And finally the "butch" models. I still stick by my original thoughts for June and October, hot, HOT! July I'm not so fussed on now due to the rash across her upper chest, and also because my biceps are FAR larger than hers. November, whom one would assume would normally appeal, is just ick. Maybe if she cut her hair off and did the full trans look it would work. March, April and May get in on the androgynous ticket, so not butch, and January has long hair!! Again this just reinforces how feminine the American concept of butch is. I've blogged on this topic before. It really does seem that the Hollywood L Word image of a lesbian is what the American dyke community aspires to. Again, as said before, at least down this end of the planet we know how to do butch properly.

Don't get me wrong, I do love this calendar, it's so bad it amuses me greatly. I owe the sender a glass of fine pinot, though with the quality of the gift one does wonder if Chateau Cardboard would suffice.