All The Small Things

Mood: Purged of thoughts
Listening to: TV infomercials

Just some stuff I've been thinking about.

Cheese is good. I really like cheese.Here are my favourite types of Cheese, in no particular order:

Kraft Cheddar. Yes - I know thats the bits they scrap from all the other cheeses just melted together into a block of cheese-y-gunge, but it tastes alright to me.

Coon. Particularly in slices. Its so rubbery. And so inappropriately named. Makes you feel slightly racist when selecting it from your supermarket dairy section. 

Pickled Onion Cheese. Its good. Too good.

Cheese and Chocolate are my two favourite foods. (Condensed milk on toast is a very close third.) 

Cadbury's is the best - no substitute for it. Peppermint and that very difficult to find one, Malt Crisp. They don't stock it round here anymore - apparently its hard to get. Which sucks, because its lovely.

Mint Patties are nice too. Probably nicer than Peppermint - however, you can't eat as much. By the end of a Mint pattie, its getting a bit overpowering. Where you can eat a whole block of Peppermint if you've got a big glass of milk to cut it with.

Ads with animals in them shit me. Who decided that it would be a reasonable move to use wombats to advertise telephonic products? Dimwit.

I do not get American humour. How David Letterman ever got his own show mystifies me, yet someone must find him amusing or he wouldn't still be on the air. Would he?

Why have we stopped teaching young people how to spell at school? Surely there is a need for people to be able to spell correctly even in this modern age? (Though I notice I mis-spelt intelligence in my last entry - theres some irony for you!)

People assume that actors are good people. Role models for the rest of us. I don't get that. Remembering lines and pretending to be other people for a living seems a rather stupid profession to me. And they are paid such a disproportionate amount of money for the work that they put in. I think that the money, rather than the "art", is what attracts so many young people to the industry. On the bright side, there must be a lot of attractive wait-people in Hollywood.

I heard today that jeans are on the rise. Hooray! I for one am sick of seeing big girls wearing jeans that show a large expanse of flesh spilling (though spilling sounds a little gentle - erupting perhaps?) over the waist (hip?) band, and an even larger expanse of plumbers crack when they bend over. Do these girls not own a mirror? Thank you for having mercy on our eyes, fashion designers of the world.

Why do they insist on running yet another season of Australian Idol, even though a single viewing of last years Idol would have revealed that there is precious little talent left to tap in Australia. Face it Channel 10, your advertising gurus can get the contestants coverage and a public profile, all the 12 - 17 year olds will know their names, but you can't make them sing better than they do. And that isn't very well.

Except for Courtney Murphy. I am still waiting for the album that Mark said he was going to make with James Morrison and Courtney. Oh, yeah, Mark was too busy greasing his hair and being "hip" with drop out kids who make stupid noises in homage to drugged out American rappers. God Help Us.

Why does it not disturb me more that I am yet to meet a dairy farmer who has milk in their tea or coffee? Surely this must cast some doubt on the cleanliness of the milk collection process? Shit, they could get it fresh - god only knows what happens to it after it leaves the dairy.

I wish supermarkets smelt better.

Why don't clothing stores hire more fat unattractive sales people. Skinny attractive ones make me feel fat and unattractive, which makes me less likely to purchase their clothing.

Random compliments rule.

As much as I hate the American culture permeating Australia like a disease - how good is the coffee at Starbucks. No wonder they are so bloody popular over there.

I love the bra I'm wearing.

I wish butchers would clean the blood & little bits of meat off their boots before they go to lunch. Especially if they intend to walk on my carpet.

I love the smell of wet dirt. And fresh mowed grass. But I hate mowing and watering my garden. I guess I'm more willing to pander to my laziness than to my olifactory preferences.

Think thats all that was floating in my head. I may even be able to sleep now!

Smoochie Woochie Bloggies,

Sass

Mood: Bit antsy.
Listening to: Benchwarmers.

Here we are folks, another Monday in downtown Sassville.

I actually quite like Mondays. They are MY day. The day that I can come to work, collect all my personal emails, reply to them, get all the mail done, be super-dooper efficiant, and that in turn makes my whole week simpler.

And I get to blog. Thats possibly my biggest highlight.

I have just scored a laptop, with unlimited internet for the next month so I should be able to blog more often - for the month at least!

Its been another interesting week. The week that Bloke and I decided that we probably were actually dating, and then he immediately gave notice on his job. Which means that he'll only be in town for another 3 weeks all going according to plan. Then we will be all over red rover.  Boo & Yay!

Its a bit of a relief to know that the situation isn't going to continue indefinitely. It bugs the hell out of me that I'm dating him to be perfectly honest. I don't mean that he bugs me - actually I really do enjoy his company, and we get along quite well. Its more that I really don't know why I'm dating him, knowing full well that there isn't any future in it, and every chance that I will yet again be hurt emotionally at the end of it.

I know that I will miss our conversations for example. And while intellectually I realise that him leaving need not necessarily be the end of our friendship, I know that in reality it will be. Our commonality comes from living in the same town. Our lives and interests are so very different. As he is so fond of reminding me. And we haven't got a future together anyway - again, why am I dating him?? Plus, honestly, if he say's to me one more time that I can do better, I may become violent.

And I'm not a violent person. It just really irritates me when people who are GOOD people undervalue themselves like that. And perhaps a little because I feel that he's overvalueing me. And it bothers me that he is making a judgement of me that I should be with a particular sort of person.

Bloke thinks that I should be dating someone "smart and educated and professional. A doctor or lawyer or accountant or something". Well bugger me. That only rules out EVERYONE in this TOWN!!!!

Except the new doctor, who is single, but really really really not my type. But thats beside the point.

His point was that I should be with someone who is as intelligent as I am. (His words not mine).

I got really, REALLY angry at that. Which in hindsight was a bit juvenile of me! However. Assuming that I am more intelliegent than the majority of men in this town just because I speak properly and read more than just magazines occasionally, and enjoy weird things like conversation, politics, and the ABC... OK, well maybe it is a fair call after all. But at the same time, it is no less demeaning than assuming that I have a lower level of intelligence because I am a single mother, drive a ford, or sometimes wear my hair in pigtails.

Take it for what it is. A compliment. Be calm Sass. Breathe.

On the far more bright side, I hope to be off to Adelaide in January, and I am much looking forward to the trip. I've started saving (Miss Limabean, this is for you!). You will be pleased to know that I have the airfare already and am currently working on some serious spending money. However Christmas is approaching with alarming speed, so don't be too horrified if I am driven to request a number of $ free activities. I'm quite sure that The HBK already has a number in mind!

And for the general knowledge of the world - I got hit on yesterday in Grants. While being mildly amusing, it really made my whole day more pleasant. Men are nice aren't they. Especially the attractive young ones. Mmm. And he was working in the Hardware store. Not a Doctor/ Lawyer / Accountant. (Have you ever met an Accountant who is even remotely attractive???)

Though I do think its funny that I've never dated someone who was overly bright. Or educated for that matter. Or worked in an office. I've only ever been with men who worked in more earthy persuits. Mechanics, farm hands, Bloke spreads fertilizer for goodness sake! Mr D is a chef, and Vin was a baker - but thats about as professional as it gets. Perhaps he has a point.

So there you go - The HBK, you will be the first office possum I've ever dated, should we actually go through with the date. Should you not run screaming in the opposite direction when you see me. 8 years old is a bloody old photo!!

I don't even know that this blog entry makes a lot of sense, but I'm not really in a proof reading mood. So, deepest apologies if its very hard to follow!

Going home to light the fire, I'll need to throw on some nice dry (b)logs, hahahahaha,

(Yes, I am aware that that was a crappy joke)

Sass.