Who Doesn't Like To Get a Little Catty Now and Then?







I love all things French (which would not have made me very popular in a room of right wing Christian conservatives in the USA post 9/11, when the French were blamed for being cowardly in the face of terrorism, when in fact they were a hastily disregarded voice of reason; but I revel in flying in the face of the massed mob's orthodoxy where I believe fundamentals of decent human behaviour are being trampled in the rush to populist activism) and tonight that led me to Dendy Newtown where I saw the French movie, "The Summer Hours".














Today I paid for having my jaw flame out on me on yesterday!














Content here soon hopefully not like NSW Govt promises!!)






One of the things I regret most about my life is that I don't own a mansion. Now lest you think I crave so much space I could fit entire football teams into broom closets (and have space left over for a netball team or two), the reason I want such a large dwelling is purely so I could go to IKEA all the time and come back with all sorts of fabulously coloured furniture in flat packs with badly worded and drawn directions, and spend my days wondering why I craved going to IKEA all the time!
Now that that my Bf's unit has been signed for on the dotted line, and he won't be homeless and and wandering the streets with his sundry possessions, Saturdays are free, up for grabs, and no longer timetabled according to real estate agent's capricious whims. While I had vague plans for venturing to the new unit complex going up next door, and seeing how much of an apartment I can't afford (ah yes Sydney - real estate S & M is big here! LOL), I gave up that up in favour of seeing my friend Fahmi before he jets off to Singapore (for more food that you can poke a chilli crab at!), chilling at home while my lovely guy caught up with an old friend for lunch, reading the paper, napping, and then spending quality time with the bf lazing around. That's the best part about weekends for me since my week's are so highly regulated - doing absolutely freaking nothing on a non-existent timetable!


"Hi, My Name is Andrew, and I am NOT a Petrolhead"..... "Hi Andrew".....

So how do I cope with my enormously stressful Outlook fueled days, when I rush from hither to yon (Hither I like; Yon not so much) moving like a lightweight pinjata swinging in a heavy breeze, just waiting for sugar-jumped up kids to swing sticks at me? (It is highly unusual that my day will involve children beating me with sticks after too much red and yellow food colouring and cake and for that I am extremely grateful - thank god for good OH & S policies!)