Stolen

Today at work my housemate called to say we had been broken into. It looked like nothing had been taken but I should check when I got home.

I checked. Something had been taken. All my jewelery.

A couple of Christmases ago, Skywalker bought me a lovely silver jewelery box. I kept it in a shelf with other 'looking pretty' stuff - hair clips and ribbons and costume jewelery. The jewelery box was there, but open, and empty. (The stuff I had lying around on my dresser was untouched. And it was Tiffany, too. Idiot thieves.)

None of it was very expensive. Although the pendant and matching ring my Grandma gave me for my 18th wouldn't have been exactly cheap, it wasn't that expensive and it was the most valuable of the lot. But I started making a list for the cops, and everything item on the list, instead of starting with 'gold' or 'sapphire' began with the occasion or person connected to it: "18th" "Confirmation" "Gma/Winky".

When my Grandmother died, she passed on a pearl necklace to my dad. He gave it a friend of the family (after whom I was named), and when she died, she gave it back to him. When I got it, there was a note, all yellowed and creased, saying she felt she'd only been holding it for him for me.

I don't wear it that much; it's pretty but fairly old-fashioned looking. But I wore it for my birthday this year. I'm wearing it in that photo, although you can't see it very well. (Yeah, turns out all the times I'm photographed wearing my jewelery, the photos are of me, not my neck or fingers or wrists. Shocking, I know.) When I got home that night, I took it off, carefully placed it in its box, and teared up as I read the note. If only I had been a bit sloppier, tossed it down, carelessly left it on the dresser, I would probably still have it.

I called my dad straight away. To tell him what had happened, so someone would give me a hug, even if it was from across the country. But the real reason was to say: I'm sorry, Dad and Winky and Grandma V. You all kept it for me and I didn't manage to keep it safe, but I tried.

And now some loser who didn't even know to wear gloves when breaking and entering has my memories, and is probably giving them to his crackwhore of a girlfriend as we speak. Happy Important Family Mementos Day, fucker.

Housemate Irritations

Blah blah love my housemates.

Here is a list of some of the little annoyances we're currently facing in the GirlHouse. I'll let you decide who is the perpetrator of which particular crime.

Making too many plans.
Not making enough plans.
Not sticking to plans.
Sticking too rigidly to plans.
Being late.
Nagging about being late.
Doing too many chores.
Not doing enough chores.
Nagging about doing chores.
Taking the pegs off the line.
Leaving the pegs on the line.
Putting things away.
Not putting things away.
Not being home enough.
Complaining about not being home enough.
Teasing about being old.
Complaining about being old.
Complaining about young people.
Needing rides.
Refusing rides.
Insisting on rides.
Using up internet download for the month within a week.

Okay, I guess that last one wasn't very cleverly disguised. That was me, I admit it!

Score!

Me, on the way to Ultimate Frisbee: I have a good feeling about this. We are going to be awesome. My goal is to be that person who catches the frisbee and gets a point.
B Myles: You have to visualise it. See yourself scoring.
Me: Oops, in my head I dropped it. It was a little embarrassing.
B Myles: NO! I will visualise it. You didn't drop it this time.

Me, in the actual game: *drops the frisbee*
Me: Oops. Damn visualisation!

Me, later in the actual game: *gets passed the ball frisbee. catches it, for a change*
Other person: Pass it to me!!!
Other other person: Uh, she's in [the goal square].
Everyone: Oh yeah, so she is. Good work.
Me: WHOOOOOHOOO!!! *does the dorkiest victory dance ever*

So yeah, I had an amazing game. (Me and B Myles both got heaps better this week. Ask her to tell you about her brilliant diving catch.) I got another goal later, and I also caught this hell hard pass and did a little pass off of that to a guy who scored. So two points, one assist? That's pretty frickin' awesome. I am totally going to be an Ultimate Frisbee star. It is clearly my calling.

"He just broke a few legs"

My new housemate, B Myles, moved across the country to live with me and HHannahh (Housemate Hannah > H Hannah > HHannahh. Yeah no?) and go to Flinders. This is pretty brave, really. We (or she) could have been psycho killers. Thankfully, we are not. What is even cooler, I think, is how B Myles can go out somewhere, like to the library, and come home with a new friend and an invite to an awesome party. I admire this. I can't do that.

***

Eri is here! Do you remember Eri? Honestly, I forgot how important Eri was. I suck. Eri was truly my first and best friend at Flinders. She is so grateful for everything that I did for her (not much) but she continues to not realise that I will be forever in her debt for everything she did and allowed me to do. She is here for two more days and we plan to make them the best two ever, before she has to go home and be a good Japanese girl and work in a cubicle and do exercises on the roof. (I may be assuming a little.)

***

These two days will no doubt be the best two of my recent history as they are the only two I have had off in a row since B Myles moved in and probably a couple of weeks before that. What is strange is that working 9-5 seven or eight days in a row is starting to feel normal. Before you ask, no I do not actually have any of that money I may appear to be earning. I just have a slightly smaller BlogHer08 debt.

***

The title refers to a line that made be laugh for five minutes straight, one of those brilliant laughs that makes your stomach hurt and your head get a little light for lack of oxygen and everything seem better somehow because if you laugh like that, the world must be a hopeful place. It occurred on our Eri Reunion Tour Girls' Night (movies, - we're introducing our internationals to Western culture via Sex And The City. Last time it was Bring It On - pizza, chocolate, popcorn, etc) and I love it and all the girls that came to what is actually the first event to be hosted in our new girlhouse ("Oh no, what if no-one comes?" "They told us twelve hours that they'd be here").

Girlhouse

We currently have no internet at home, due to the suckiness of internet "service" "providers" around here, so I would like to leave you with these three snapshots of life in our girlhouse:

Scene One: I am straightening my hair, watching One Tree Hill. Housemate Hannah* knocks and comes in and plugs in her hair dryer and asks if she can borrow my mascara and can I curl her hair. Girlhouse!

Scene Two: The electrician has arrived, and I have let him in to our house and pointed out the things he (of course) needs to fix, including my bedroom light. I knock on Housemate Hannah's door, say "Can I sleep with you?" and crawl into bed with her for a good hour while Electrician Dave does his thing. Girlhouse!

Scene Three: B Myles and I decide on the spur of the moment to go out. We spend much time on outfits and shoes. B Myles borrows my nail polish. We go out and get very drunk and dance all night. The convenience of having a party buddy right there in the girlhouse!

I love girlhouse.

*This is what I've been calling her to differentiate between the Hannah Montana I have at work, and the Uni Hannah that B Myles went out and made friends with even AFTER I told her about the abundance of Hannah's we already had. I think I've referred to Housemate Hannah as HaMad here in the past. Is this confusing?

What Are You Making?

You know how something is totally hilarious at the time, but if you try to tell the story you are met with blank looks, and possibly it doesn't even seem that funny to yourself in retrospect? Yeah, that's what this title is like. It was the funniest thing ever when I said it to someone at work today. Now ... not so much.

The bushfires still suck. My scooter is still stolen. My internet is still spotty.

But I am totally optimistic (well, not so much about the bushfires and all the people who lost all their homes and possessions and scooters) because this week my boy housemates are moving out and my two girl housemates are moving in. Whoo! Oops, not that I hate my boy housemates. Just that it's exciting having new housemates, and one is a good friend and one I've never met, and that shit is exciting.

Also I bought a new diary and moved my room around and we bought a couch (it's pink! I know!) and am going shopping for a tv and fridge and washing machine tomorrow.

Oh and I just spent the past couple of hours thinking I was having a texting conversation but no, I was talking to myself as I had no credit and the messages weren't actually going anywhere. Genius.

Burn Baby Burn

Since I live in (a) Australia and (b) a house with boys who (b)(i) watch cartoons and sport and not much else, I've had to download all the shows that aren't on normal TV. Mostly One Tree Hill, and some random Heroes eps that I missed due to work. All this downloading basically caused my computer to become full to the point of bursting with all those mega-giga-bajiggerbites, so I decided to buy a DVD burner, which would get all those eps off my computer and on to pretty little discs.

Except that the burning software I got was only a trial version. And that I wasn't sure the real thing would even help with the file types that I have. And that the free version of the other thing I found puts a watermark on the video. And that even when I paid to make it work it's not a matter of burning a CD; it takes for freaking ever. And that in order to print onto the CD, you have to buy special ones. And that I don't have these special discs, even though the main feature me and the guy were talking about was the label burner thing, so you think he might have sold me those particular discs.

And most of all, the fact that in order for any of this to work, it was necessary to delete all but four episodes of the ones I'd downloaded, as well as deleting a bunch of programs, and cutting down my Uni Hall Photo Collection considerably.

After all that, I now have exactly one new DVD. And the promise of plenty more when I figure out how to exceed our download without the housemates or the internet company finding out.

Falling Apart

My world seems to be falling apart. Like, literally. This is not me being all dramatic because I can't find my favourite pair of boxer shorts or whatever. (Although seriously? Holly? Tiff? Las Vegas? Did I leave them with you?)

I had to take the Scarlet Lady in for a service today. It only took a few hours, and I told them to check the spark plugs, which I'm pretty sure is what caused her little tantrum the other day. If I pick her up tomorrow and they say that wasn't it, I'm going to send them back in to look for some other problem.

My wireless internet adaptor cracked the shits and refused to be recognised by my computer. I spent a very unproductive 23 minutes on the phone with tech support, who told me I could call them back, press 4 instead of 2 and they'd arrange for me to send the adaptor to them. I said thanks, hung up, and spent five minutes at Tandy getting a replacement and free upgrade.

Our shower head has been wobbly for some time, but nothing that affected the basic operation of the system. Until yesterday, when it decided to break completely off. Now, you get to have a shower with bonus childhood memories of playing under the hose. You also get to wait around the house all day for a plumber who didn't show but bloody well better be here bright and early tomorrow morning, or at the very least by the time you get back from the gym.

Ok, I guess it was me being a little dramatic, since all the things that have broken are fixed, or on their way to being fixed. I'm just glad it wasn't anything essential, like, I don't know, MY SCOOTER, or MY INTERNET, or MY SHOWER. OH WAIT.

Oops. The plumber just showed. I can offically quit my fricking whinging.

More things no-one told me about Adelaide

Darwin doesn't have a winter. Okay, it has a Dry Season, where it - gasp! - sometimes gets below 20°C (68°F), but nothing compared to what I have suffered for the past eternity several months here in Adelaide.

Luckily, before it got too bad, I bought my favourite thing in the world right now: a heater.

Last night I was told very nicely, if a bit too subtly at first, that our electricity bill was likely to be a more than usual this ... month? quarter? whatever. I was all, 'I'm sure we can all put in a bit more rent this week, it'll be a small price to pay for being warm.'

Except: it's going to be an extra couple of hundred dollars. And also, I am the only one in the house with a heater. (Which, how the HELL did they SURVIVE?! I wasn't even here for the worst of it.) Who knew heat (HEAT!) was worth that much!

I am still on board with sharing the cost. After all, I am going to be SO MUCH BETTER than them at coping in summer. I bet I won't even to have my fan above 3. I am just that good.

You will need the things you learn in pre-school

Guess what we did at uni today (in Honours no less)? We cut out pieces of paper and stuck them on other pieces of paper. It's taken about twenty years, but those mad craft skillz from pre-school are finally proving their worth.

Oh, and then I assigned myself some 'homework' just so I wouldn't lose all that whole cutting and pasting technique we'd been practicing. My wall is no longer bare.

Want My Number?

Because I could totally give it to you right now and it would not help you the tiniest bit.

I am typing this at uni because my home internet is down again. This time it's through no fault of our internet people. Somehow - and I really have no idea how this happens - our phone number is not our phone number at the moment.

Basically, we can call out, but the number that will show up is not ours.

Crap! Does this mean mean that someone else has our phone number and could be ringing up our phone bill as I type? That's not cool, other people.

WAIT A SECOND.

If we have someone else's phone number, I could be ringing up their bill right now. I could call Asia, Europe ... oh wait. I could call YOU.

Wait by the phone, bitches.

Going A Little Crazy

I have had no internet for approximately WAY TOO LONG.

Yes, I admit it: I may have something of a problem here. Whatever.

I seriously considered signing up for Twitter last night, when my internet was being super-slow, just so I could give you all updates such as these:

'Slower than dial-up is TOO FREAKING SLOW.'

'I'm trying to read my Bloglines by clicking on posts by writers who are unlikely to have added pictures.'

'If this doesn't email send, I will bitch-slap my internet into next freaking week.'

'Considering the pic-lite policy above, maybe clicking on FRICKING POST SECRET was not a good plan.'

'Laughing (and refraining from punching the screen) when the message "If this screen appears for more than five seconds, you may have to send the information again" appears. Try FIVE HOURS. OR DAYS.'

'Bloglines STOP ADDING POSTS FASTER THAN I CAN READ THEM.'

Wow. Little bit of aggression there. On the plus side: yay for free uni internet. Jeez.

PS: Can you help me out on the Vegas issue? I'll buy you a drink.

Health and Fitness (HA!)

I have a cough. It sounds like a fake cough. And I can't control it. I am going to stab myself in the throat soon.

On the plus side, it's really working out my stomach muscles, which is a great segue into my second point.

In our backyard, there is a shed. In the shed, there is an exercise bike.

Being that my physical activity has gone from playing (two grades plus social), coaching (two teams), and reffing basketball, to um, nothing, I thought maybe I should do something with this bike. Like, I don't know, exercise?

I'm sure this is all fascinating, but the point is that you can now pop back in any weekday and nag ask me if I've done my thirty minutes of cycling. And then kick my arse for being lazy. Deal?

Pizza Party

My grandma and my aunty are coming over for dinner tonight. They haven’t seen me or the house since I moved in. This wasn’t on purpose on my part. I always intended to invite them to dinner, but then uni happened and work happened, and I didn’t. Until now.

They don’t think I can cook. When I asked what they wanted to eat, they said, “Oh, well, you’ll want to cook something simple.” When I suggested home-made pizza, they said, “You’ve been practicing pizza, have you?”

Actually, no and no. For me, one person, yes I want to cook something simple. I’m a slacker like that. For three people, I don’t mind putting in a little more effort. And I never cook pizza for myself. I figured it would be a crowd pleaser, and yeah, ok, hard to mess up. Add in some garlic bread and salad for not much more effort and call it a meal.

My room is tidied, the kitchen table is clear of bottle caps and cards, and the pizza and garlic bread are ready to go into the oven.

The salad is at the shops, where I forgot it. Who says I can’t orchestrate a whole dinner party?

I had to write that earlier, in Word, because my internet took an afternoon nap. Now it's 9:47pm and my guests have just left. They left me a mere two slices of pizza and a small piece of cheesecake for breakfast. I think we can call that a success.

Housekeeping, Literally

We now have a jobs roster. Twice a month I am required to be a contributing member of this household. Today I did the vacuuming. (Who was it that recently had trouble spelling that? Cos hells yeah, it's a confusing word.) If you ever feel the need of an upper-body workout, just come and use our vacuum. If you could make it the first week of the month that would be awesome.

I just bought a heater. Despite being all "BLOGHER! SAVE MONEY! BLOGHER!" all the time, I'm sorry, it had to be done. Adelaide is cold, man. I was told to buy an electric blanket but no way. Those things scare the crap out of me. I don't want to be electrocuted in the middle of the night, thank you very much.

Seriously, what is it with these boys that don't value the sleep hours? No, that's not even it. It's more that our rooms are the only places we have to ourselves and damn we need them. And even more that I think girls have some kind of inborn terror alert when their bedroom doors are opened and lights switched on at ungodly hours of the morning. And no, "shit happens" does NOT excuse it.

I went grocery shopping today. Sometimes I wonder what the checkout people think about what customers buy. The other week I literally bought bread, milk, and toilet paper. What a cliche. Today I bought everything. Seriously. I had no bread, butter, milk, sausages, pasta, fruit, or chocolate. All the essentials. It is so lucky I am not responsible for any other living thing on the planet.

Dude, Seriously?

I have this breakfast routine that I am very fond of.

I went through a couple of stages when I was younger of eating cereal for breakfast, but I have now come to the conclusion that cereal is a dinner food. I had a while there when I didn't really eat breakfast, because the Hall serves breakfast way early, and I had better things to do.

But now, I'm firmly back on toast.

Two slices gets me through class/a shift/an essay/a morning watching cable. The first slice is vegemite. If there is a second, it's peanut butter. (And used to be if there was a third, it was cinnamon sugar.) If I'm out of peanut butter, I'm cool with having both vegemite.

Vegemite is the key here.

And yet, when I woke up this morning, there was no jar of vegemite on the bench. No vegemite in the fridge (where I didn't leave it) or the cupboard (where I also didn't leave it).

How does this happen? I don't get it.

Living With Boys

Lesson One: Supposing a boy is considerate enough to ask if you need the bathroom.

The answer, always always always, is "YES! YES I DO. AND I AM GOING THERE RIGHT NOW."

This is true even if you have no need of the bathroom and do not in fact think you will need it at any time in the near or distant future.

Bathroom. Going. Right now. Definitely not later.

Never Mind

So, the discussion about the strip club turned out to be academic. (Wow, strip club and academic in the same sentence, who'da thought?)

The Lads have decided that it should be a Lads Night. Which ... I said that right at the start (and not just because I was being a chickenshit about going).

We have been invited to partake of the festivities ... AFTER midnight.

Some of the girls (not me, see above re: chickenshit) got a bit offended at being disinvited, and declined the generous timeslot we'd been offered.

So we're going to the movies. That'll show 'em.

O-Week: Again, Some More

Here's the rest of the week:

The Tonsley:



Hannah's 19th:



Benny's "18th":



The Fringe Festival:



The Cricket:



(Ok, so the photos are on The Pom's camera. But you get the idea. We were busy, ya with me?)

Now I Get It

Now do you remember why it is so much better to have YOUR bed to YOURself?

A little something called sleep.

I swear, I am getting the masking-tape line happening if the people-staying-over-after-BBQs thing keeps up.