Yesterday was just one of those days when I wished I hadn’t got out of bed.

I walked out of work yesterday afternoon, excited about the impending day off work in lieu of Anzac Day, jumped on my bike, turned the key and pressed the button. AND. NOTHING!

The bike had no juice in it. Nothing WHAT SO EVER!! It was dead. Done. Dusted. Nada! Nil! Zilch!

I called Glen in a panic. He’d been to the dentist earlier in the day and had a numb and impending sore mouth. In the end, after about an hour of ringing around to the various tow truck and bike shop operators who didn’t give a crap, we decided to call the RACV. That in itself was a debacle as my scooter was not listed in our member care. So, Glen had to pay $100 or whatever to get the bike listed and then RACV tells him that they won’t provide roadside assistance, but they will tow! Yay for me.  Finally, the tow truck operator arrived at about 7.30pm and tolerating a little grumpiness, I helped him load the bike onto the rather large flatbed truck. I arrived home around 8.30pm and we hauled the bike into the garage and collapsed inside the house.

I later discovered that I stupidly left the bike on Park. PARK! How does a freakin’ bike have a park switch on the ignition and why does one need it?! Apparently in park, the lights are left on park and the battery is subsequently drained of all life. I feel stupid. How does one not realise that there’s a park switch on her bike? How does one own the bike since November and avoid this drama until now?!

I still can’t believe how dense I was. Today, of course the bike’s battery has been charged and my baby is back to normal. Except, that during the towing, the tow truck driver had to tiedown my bike which meant applying pressure to plastic parts of the bike. As a result, the fuel cap cover has been damaged and I’ll probably need to replace it.

I should probably read the manual. That would be a good idea.

Anyway, it could be worse, right? Right.

Blog stats

I recently discovered this section inside WordPress for Blog Stats and was rather amused. See below. I’m still not sure how some of them found my site. Hopefully the formatting keeps.

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2007-04-12

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Get over it

Seriously, I’m getting a little sick and tired of hearing people carrying on about the influenza immunisation shot that is being given this year.

Our work organisation has offered to give it to us for free this year. This promotes a healthy work environment and the organisation tries to ensure that people come to work – because they aren’t sick with the flu!

So, when I hear ill-informed people deliberating about the merits of the flu shot, I get a bit jack of it.

For crying out loud, it’s a dead vaccination! Dead! That means you AREN’T getting injected with a live influenza virus which means you only DISPLAY the symptoms, you don’t actually get them! It can last a few hours, or 24hours. Not DAYS, WEEKS like the real virus.

And for those who carry on about how they got the shot last year and they still got the flu. Bloody get over yourselves! The flu shot only covers the super dangerous, put-you-in-hospital-you-could-die flus. Not the little ones that keep you in bed for days, moaning and carrying on about how sick you are! Seriously! Just be happy that you didn’t get a worse version like the one YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN IMMUNISED FOR IF YOU HAD BLOODY JUST SHUT UP AND GONE TO GET A FREE SHOT!

And let’s not forget the fact that this flu shot takes up to two weeks to become effective – anything inside that period of time is just your dumb luck! Get over it.

And just remember one last thing. If your employer offers you a flu vaccination for free and you don’t have a legit excuse, such as being pregnant or allergic to the ingredients in the shot, like eggs and certain antibiotics, then remember this – your employer is not going to be happy to know that you opted not to get the shot and chose to become sick!

In this instance, the word FREE should not raise your suspicion!

Vent over. Apologies for the rant, but I’ve had enough of hearing ill-informed people carry on like it’s a government conspiracy. Seriously. Be concerned about the real issues like global warming and the injustice of the war in Iraq! Grrr. 🙂

Run Forest Run!

I took delivery of a u-beaut treadmill last week. Did I tell you?

It was purchased from what I thought, was a relatively reliable ebay seller in Australia. In fact, in Melbourne. I thought it would be a done deal once I finally won one of the sought-after suckers! I used my tax money, or part there of.  It seriously took over a month from when I won the item, to when the blasted thing arrived. I was unimpressed, and duly left neutral feedback, because I just couldn’t be bothered leaving negative feedback and dealing with the verbal exchange which would inevitably follow.

Anyway, I digress.

This ebay seller sells many treadmills at different speed levels, capacities and sizes. I, of course, picked the biggest, fastest and most gadgety one available. It told me I could run on it. It told me that it was rated for 200kg – well, well above my current lardness. And no, I am not sharing my current lardness in digit representation.

So, I walked on it last week. I walked and I hurt my legs.

Side note: I have Muscle Compartment Syndrome. It restricts blood flow to the muscles and it feels like my legs are burning. I’m talking serious burning, which then also affects my feet – my left foot went to sleep last week whilst I was walking. I pushed through the pins and needles and everytime I took a step, I looked like Steady Eddy with a gawky limp. Seriously, my left foot was shaking, girating and flapping everytime it wasn’t in use, so to speak.

I haven’t used my treadmill since that fateful night. Revelation, I know. Surprising, not really. I give up easily. I does that good.

Tonight, I went through my weights regime. I did sit ups. Shock horror! I hopped on the treadmill and before I could give it much thought, I pumped up the speed until I was forced to run, well a half arsed jog, at best. But it was running, nonetheless and as I was dying running, I felt good about myself. I felt proud. I decided to jog for one minute, walk for another, and so on and so forth. I did this for 10 minutes and I was suitably stuffed at the end of it.

I’m going to lose weight using the treadmill this way. I just know it. For, as I sit here, I feel my legs slowly dying and declared to Glen, not more than two minutes ago, that if he required me to get out of this chair, he would need to assist me, for I have become decrepid and incapacitated.

But I ran. (Yes, Flock of Seagulls, eat your heart out!) I ran!

Mr Prime Minister

Butt out you stupid little blithering snot!!

I don’t ever recall any President of USA ever weighing into Australia’s election campaigns, do you?

Holy Folks Mary!

Holy Folks Mary!

Originally uploaded by Sams76.

I was in Kmart today with mum looking for some toys for Sonnet’s kids when I saw this.

If you can’t see the small writing on the front, it says “Your Play and Pray Pal”. Scary, huh?

What’s scarier is that there’s a Noah!

It’s funny. I have so much to write about, but I’m either lacking that spark I need to let the words flow, or I’m just shit out of time. I suspect it’s a case of both. But I did promise to sit and blog about Christmas.

As per tradition in our household, we had gift-giving on Christmas Eve, complete with excited labrador stomping around all over very excited kittens, who thought it was their very own special Christmas, complete with crunchy wrapping paper and boxes to jump into.

I scored big time and although I feel a little spoiled, it’s nothing less than I deserve. Right?

Glen gave me a bread maker, which so far has been used three times. The first time I made a boulder of heavy dough and the other two times, Glen followed the same instructions I followed and produced two very scrumptious loaves of bread. He has now been allocated the role of Bread Maker Extraordinaire and I shall never bake another loaf for I am too demoralised.

Other gifts I received were a set of two cordless phones – more like a gift for both of us, and obviously Glen got more joy from them than me. He said for the remainder of the night, fiddling with the settings, organising voice mail and some speed dial thingy-mes, whilst I slept!

He also gave me an electric oil burner so I can go to sleep at night with it on. I already have one, but it comes with it’s very on 40watt light bulb and not very conducive to sleepages.

I also got the latest Stephen King book, Evermore and Greys Anatomy CDs.

Friends gave me a few other books, John Mayer’s new CD. Mum, who travelled down from home has been buying me things since she arrived. Stuff like bedside touch lamps, a couple of DVDs like Brokeback Mountain etc. You do just realise I just typed Brokebake? Hrm. The brain is not functioning. I’m hoping to pick up The LakeHouse before she goes home and a pair of shoes, but we’ll see how we go. It’s like a big treat when Mum comes to visit. I get spoiled, probably because I usually only see her once a year.

Now that the receiving of gifts has been discussed, I shall quickly touch upon the gift-giving department. Although, we all know it’s not about giving, it’s about the receiving that counts!

I gave Glen a Krups coffee machine. However, he’s had that for a month or so, as I had to order it with his permission. He also got a new wallet (hardly exciting and his excitement, or lack thereof showed) and a FarSide Calendar. Not very exciting, right? He also got a couple of books and Mum purchased a lovely wireless, ADSL2 modem thing-me-jig which he loved. Hrm. It makes the internet go faster, or something…

That’s pretty much it. Christmas Day was spent with a headache – yay for me, and planning for Christmas Day dinner. Turkey was cooked beautifully – very yummy, plus our famous stuffing and warm potato salad with mustard seeds. Mmmmm! Deeeeeelicious. I ate a lot, but I suppose you realised that. And yes, I feel very icky and bloated and shall probably arrive back at work with an extra 10 kilos to mine body.

I’ll possibly post more later about the rest of Mum’s stay, the things we’re been doing etc. Howeve, since I had to get up super early and was kept partially awake by a Zeus cat who wanted cuddles and to be under the blankets beside me all night, I am not yet up to that task and require a can of coke, as a coffee-substitute. Hrm. I hope that I can stay awake during my haircut appointment, which begins in just over an hour. I tend to want to fall asleep during such sessions if I haven’t slept well, so wish me luck that I do not snore.

Check out Glen’s blog about the weather on Christmas Day. As things go with weather, Christmas Day did not feel Christmassy for us Auuuuuussies.

What did people expect?

This shits me, trust me.

But what did the Australia expect?

There’s a phrase that I’ve known for a long time and some of us have suffered – those of us who’ve lived in a small-minded country town – Small mindedness breeds ‘isms’.

In this case, racism.

Country folk just don’t get exposed to the outside world unless they leave their cosy little worlds and travel to the big cities like Sydney or Melbourne. They just don’t get it.  Hell, my inlaws came from a city and moved to a small country town (though, the word town is rather exaggerated!) and they carry on about the local “Indian” doctor as “He’s quite good, even though he’s Indian!”

Let’s face it – the country is a little world of its own, but as James Bond said, “This World is Not Enough”. Cliche and tacky, probably, true – yes. Di and I grew up with this small town mentality, and it was probably one of the greatest reasons we decided to leave. Since then, I think we’ve both become better people for it, more open minded and relaxed about other cultures. Often, I am accused (not sure of Di) of being too ‘city-minded’, not having any community spirit. But what’s the alternative?

At least I accept people as they come. But then, I was always like that. Who taught me that? My mother and my friends.

Knock, knock

Who’s there.

Well, that would be the usual catch line, if you cared who was at the door.

You see, we frequently get annoying individuals knocking on our door, ringing the doorbell, like there’s a fire in their pants! This is exactly what happened tonight. However, we had prior warning, because our neighbours also ignore their desperate button pressing, knuckle knocking frenzy and we heard them.

So, why do Jehovah-Scientologist-Gas/Electricity-Charity representatives (for want of a better word) knock on the door until their knuckles are bruised and they’ve broken the batteries on the doorbell?

It shits me. It’s like they know you are in the house (the car is in the driveway and they can hear the TV), so they demand you answer the door. So, if they just bash the door and poke that button for a bit longer, someone will come! Not us though! Glen and I sit there giggling, waiting patiently and sometimes turning up the volume on the TV to drown out the incessant badgering occuring outside.

On a more serious note, I get very indignant with regards to my privacy and if I were to answer the door, like the occasion this evening, the person who deemed it necessary to knock for about ten minutes, I would have become rather catty and snotty at them. So, they are probably rather lucky I did not answer the door. It’s times like these that I wish we had a front gate that is lockable.  Will have to work on this goal in 2007.

Bloody beta crap!

I made the mistake of logging on to beta blogger last night to see what all this fuss is about. Suddenly, I am unable to log onto blogger tonight to enter a simple entry. Freakin’ annoying. Ended up having to reset my password which is unacceptable. Grrr.

______________________________________________________________________

Messages received on the home phone this afternoon : three
Messages from : Pathology from yesterday’s excruciating blood sucking experience
Nature of message one : Oh sorry, we were so incompetent that that we didn’t get enough blood from you and didn’t torture you enough by wiggling and wretching the needle in your hand, we need to do it all again
Nature of message two : Different person, telling me they fucked up and needed more blood and did I mention we’re sorry, oh yeh, we’re sorry and at the end, we’re very sorry (and incompetent)
Nature of message three : Oh! We put our one sole brain cell to work and realised we could use the existing blood to test for the final test requested! We’re brilliant and we’re saving you the hassle of coming back in so we can torture you again and say “Shit” when we see your veins, or rather, can’t see them!

Morons! I swear. Suffice to say, throughout message one and two, I’m standing there fuming, bitching at Glen, vowing never to go back to that god-awful excuse for a pathology unit.

Grrrrr.

/rant off
/time for bed
/time to take a chill pill