Creepy Crush

As usual this slack arsed, bogan bitch did not get her shit together and have a post ready to link up for I Must  Confess yesterday. So naturally I'm doing the lazy bogan thing again and coming to the party late. But that's alright because the party doesn't start until I arrive, right? We all know I'm such a party animal.

Let's get straight to the point because I'm sure you've all been waiting anxiously for me to disclose the celebrities that I think are sizzling HAWT.  Well, here's the thing. I must confess that I've always been the one who usually just doesn't get it when other women are drooling over a celebrity.

This dates all the way back to when I was a teenager and all the other girls had major crushes on Simon Le Bon or Jon Bon Jovi. Yep, it was the 80's. Meanwhile, I wasn't remotely interested. I've never really been into 'pretty boys'. I don't want a guy who is prettier than me. Let's face it, that wouldn't be hard. Ahem.

My bewilderment over pretty boys has lived on the present day and I simply DO NOT understand all this fuss over Ryan Gosling. Oh, okay, he is hot. However,  that character he played in The Notebook is fictional ladies. It's just plain silly to have crushes on fictional characters, right? Oh wait..

After having a brief crush on Balmain Tigers player Wayne Pearce at around age 12, a few years later at the tender age of 14, the mini series (remember mini series? You're showing your age, if you do) of Anne Of Green Gables aired and I was smitten with Jonathan Crombie, the Canadian actor who played Gilbert Blythe. Of course, I had already been smitten with the character out of the book for years so it wasn't much of a stretch. Yes I know I just mentioned that it's silly to have crushes on fictional characters. It really is. But that didn't stop me.

Please call me Carrots, Gilbert..erm I mean Jonathan...

In the series, and the book, he called Anne 'Carrots' because he wanted to meet her so much and Anne cracked her slate over his head.  I wouldn't have minded if he'd called me Carrots. I've been called worse things. Such as a 'red headed rat rooter'. Classy.

This wouldn't be the first time I would fall in love with a fictional character. Who could forget Colin Firth as the enigmatic Mr Darcy in Pride & Prejudice?  It's not weird to have crushes on fictional characters, right? Nope. No way. Not weird at all.

At least not as weird as my most enduring and intense celebrity crush. A fascination and devotion that borders on the intensely creepy side.

Karen Carpenter.

Yes, I've had a massive 'girl crush' on a dead celebrity for 30 or so years. Shut up. I mean it, shut right up. And I'm not the only one. So ner. You know who you are, fellow Karen worshippers.

It seems weird, right? But if you take away the anorexia and the hideous 70's fashions and hair styles wasn't she just as cute as button? No? Hmph. Who asked you anyway? Oh, I did. Right. Well, I stand by my fascination. You can't stop me.

 

Besides, who could rock double denim like KC? 

Is it wrong to wish you
could have been that dog?

 

Groovy. Far out, even.

That little girl is such a bitch. Hmph. Should have been me.
The fact that I would have been a baby then and wouldn't
remember it now is completely irrelevant.
 

 

More recently, I happened to watch some of the documentaries by British television presenter and writer, Dawn Porter, and because she is a brunette who had this cute retro style and vibe going on she kind of reminded of Karen, therefore I developed a milder 'girl crush' on her. Ahem. Anyway. this is interesting because it turns out that she is married to Bridesmaids actor Chris O'Dowd, and despite deciding that that movie was a bit ordinary I decided he was a bit of alright. So, I'm just it putting it out there that if this particular couple is ever interested in a threesome, I'm totally up for that.* Because I'm certain that an overweight, middle aged bogan would be their first choice for that scenario. Can't think why not.

What a cute couple. I mean hawt...

And that is quite enough of my creepiness for one day. Or an eternity, really.

 

*Not really, we all know I'm too much of a Pollyanna. But I just wanted to leave you with that disturbing image. You're welcome.

 

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

 

 

 

Which celebrities do think are smokin' hawt? Or, you know, you just have a disturbing fascination

with them for no reason? Or is that just me....

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The Weird And Wonderful Things I Do When (I Think) Nobody Is Looking

There is nobody around. No one can see. I am safe. If anybody actually saw what I am about to do they would seriously think I am crazy. They would probably hastily edge towards the nearest exit, eyes darting back towards me suspiciously,  as if I was some sort of strange, thoroughly alien species they had never seen before.  I would immediately be placed into the same category as those misfits sometimes spotted on public transport or doctors waiting rooms. Whenever you see them, you avert your eyes, embarrassed. After all, they may be a little - shall we say - 'special', so we shouldn't embarrass them, right?

I cannot suppress this urge. To me it is as unstoppable and as natural as breathing. If I don't do it I will feel restless, twitchy, agitated, anxious and unsettled. I have always done this, ever since I can remember. I've never known anyone else who does. From an early age I realised this. I am the only one who does this. Other people don't. I must not do it in public! To compensate for this I did other things, but they were thought of as slightly strange too.

If I had ever let anyone see me, especially the other kids at school, I knew there would be consequences. I would be tormented and bullied. Just like I was when I had a 'fang', a spare, rogue tooth growing above my front top teeth. Mercifully, I had it removed and the kids forgot and left me alone. So I knew I could never let them see this thing I did and still do. Never! It is a secret. That is the only way.

However much I try to hide it and do this alone, somebody will inevitably catch me. My family. I cannot get away from them. Not completely. They walk into a room and catch me, unawares. I stop, mortified.

"Why do you do that, Mum?" Mr 9 will ask, bewildered, maybe even a little scared.

"I don't know." I answer, embarrassed and unable to explain.

But I do know. Now. I didn't a few years ago. My family are used to it, though. Sort of. They still think it's bizarre.

To see somebody, a grown woman, standing there, her entire body gyrating backwards and forwards, blissfully rocking. My arms will also unwind, unbidden and I will jerk them back and forth as well.

Why?

Because Aspie's ROCK!! In my case, quite literally.  This is what is referred to in Aspie speak as 'stimming,' short for self-stimulatory behaviours as described here.

While it's believed that most people on the spectrum engage in these behaviours as a means of dealing with anxiety, I have to say for me personally when I am 'stimming' or rocking, which is my most common one, I am usually in my happy place. Listening to Carpenters music, merrily rocking away. Because let's face it why wouldn't you head bang to the Carpenters?

There seems to some controversy or question raised over whether ASD people should be made to stop or reduce their stimming behaviours. I can only say from my own experience I am SO GLAD and grateful that my parents never made a big deal out of it and just let me be and do it. I really don't think I could stop myself even if I tried. Of course I'm lucky that I've been able to control my most extreme stim of rocking while in public. As I child I did other things. I would jump up and down on the spot or skip. Such a shame I still don't engage in those ones as I could sure as hell do with the exercise!

Occasionally when around other people I might fidget and twitch in an unusual manner causing people to look at me quizzically and enquire "Are you cold?"  Mostly it isn't a problem for me, except for the odd moments recently at home when I've started rocking only to stop abruptly, remembering that the boys friend/s were here and might spot me. Awkward.

The way I look it is, if that is the worst thing I do alone then so be it. Picking your nose and eating it is far worse. No, I don't do that. I really don't. I do pick at my ears sometimes. Shut up.

The only other things I may have done when nobody is looking is to engage in Covert Cakie Operations, otherwise known as sneakily eating cake when nobody is looking so I don't have to share. Ditto Covert Chocolate Operations. But nobody saw me, so it can never be proven. So ner.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

                                 
                                           What do you do when you think nobody is looking?
 

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The Bogan Is Back!!

Hello everyone! I'M BACK!! How are we all? All my adoring fans. The whole two of you. I'm sure you've just been pining away waiting longingly for my words of wisdom. After all, who wouldn't?  Don't answer that. Ahem.

Anyway, I must confess that I've actually enjoyed having a bit of a bloggy break. I mean it is just so damn exhausting keeping up the standards that are necessary to be a Professional Bogan. Think about it. This means that I have to drag my sorry arse out of bed at 11am every single morning, or you know, just whenever I can be bothered, pull on my trackie dacks and ugg boots and then come up with these wonderfully witty and intensely riveting tales of our boring as batshit exciting and glamorous lives here in Boganville.

For instance, just this morning, I stumbled out of bed and bid farewell, bleary eyed,  to two out of three boys who set off to school, Micky Blue Eyes trailing behind them. Then I made myself porridge and positioned myself in front of the lap top where I proceeded to scroll down my Facebook news feed.

Fascinating stuff, right?

In addition to this, these last two weeks of my hiatus have been so action packed and absorbing that I simply do not know where to begin. Actually it was so exciting during the first week of the holidays that I can't even remember what happened. Yep, THAT exciting.

We did manage to get out for one of our ubiquitous Sunday drives. On a Sunday, strangely enough. Our destination was a nearby reserve or park type arrangement with picturesque gardens including a Japanese styled one. As soon as we disembarked from the car my head began to pound. Helpful.

 The boys sailed around merrily on their scooters while we meandered around behind them. Eventually though, my pounding head was too much to endure and we headed on to a nearby pub where we had lunch and I was able to have a much needed coffee and drugs. While there we decided it was indeed a very suitable and classy establishment in which to celebrate Mick's 50th birthday next month. There are pokies and everything. Noice.

The next day I did some grocery shopping, purchasing around 25 tonnes of food and spending around a billion bucks. Thereabouts*. This was all devoured within days.

On Wednesday Mr 11 became Mr 12, so I went to the tremendous effort of mixing up a packet cake for him. Caramel mud, to be precise. I certainly hope that child appreciates the sacrifices I make for him.  We then proceeded, clutching cake, to my parents house where the plan was to have pizza followed by the previously mentioned cake, with my brother and nephews also in attendance.

The only ploy to this plan was that I had apparently decided to have the Headache From Hell. AGAIN. Handy. This time no amount of coffee or drugs alleviated my pain. My head pounded steadfastly on. As it turned out, my Mum had also made her famous Apple Pie so the day could only be described as Headache Hell with an Apple Pie Heaven twist.

The next day we were scheduled to go the circus. I'm not sure why we would bother actually paying money for this when we can experience it at home. Mick is a clown, I'm the bearded lady and the boys are animals. Done. All we need is a trapeze. Just saying.

However, I was feeling somewhat wobbly and dizzy so I stayed home while Micky Blue Eyes took the boys and my mother-in-law in my place. Reportedly they had fun. Without me. How rude.

Then, after I started to feel a bit better I had another frightfully horrid wobbly, dizzy spell last Sunday, without ever even having a drop of alcohol. Smashing. What is with THAT? The no alcohol and the channelling Enid Blyton thing. Weird.

This has left me feeling rather despondent, dejected, gloomy, forlorn and any other sad adjective you can think of. I resisted the urge to consult a thesaurus there, you will be grateful to know. Suffice to say: Not. Happy. Jan. Hmph.

Then it occurred to me that a few days before these wobbly turns I was craving a good steak with a side of spinach. I NEVER crave spinach. I think my body is telling me to lay off the cakies and actually hit it with some nutrition including a bit of iron. Rude body. 

Therefore I am really in need of a good old Aussie Barbeque (you see how I did that, Loungers?)  with a steak the size of my head and lots of greenery on the side.  Weirdly enough, we just don't have enough barbecues. Disgraceful, if we are to call ourselves proud bogans.  Mick has some sort of paranoia about  gas ones, preferring the old fashioned wood ones. That all seems like too much effort for me to go to for a burnt sausage. Plus it is just too cold at this time of year.

I might have to make an exception though and get my barbeque on this weekend if possible. Why not? Bogans love burning things. We could even be really Klassy Bogans and throw a few pineapple rings on the barbie instead of shrimp. I have honestly never been to a barbecue where there have been 'shrimp' on the barbie, anyway. Plus, we call them prawns. Get it right, Hoges.

Until the next scintillating chapter, it's over and out from me.

*May be a slight exaggeration.

Linking up rather late (better late than never, right?) with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

Also linking up with Robomum for The Lounge.

What exciting things have been happening in your world? Do you like a good old bogan BBQ?

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Bloggy Break

This is just a quick post to let all of my adoring fans (there must be at least two of you) that I'm taking a bloggy break due to a combination of school holidays, lack of a computer and feeling blah and uninspired. Not that  any of this bogan bullshit was particularly inspired in the first place, anyway. Ahem. But I still like to bore you with it, regardless. You're welcome.

So, I guess you'll just have to find a cure for insomnia elsewhere for the time being. Hopefully, I'll be back soon. I think. Maybe. Probably. Most likely.

You can't get rid me of me that easily. How VERY DARE YOU. So ner.

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Bad Habits

Another Monday has rolled around , Mr 4 had his customary Monday Morning ‘headache’ otherwise known as Mondayitis,  I have another horrid Man Cold since all the males I live with can’t seem to treat their germs the same as the TV remote and NOT SHARE, and it’s time for another  round of confessing.  This week is all about channelling our inner Billy Fields and confessing all our bad habits. Anyone under 40  and/or not Australian is probably thinking Billy Who?

This dude, and this song.

 

Like Billy, I’m afraid I have far too many  shockingly bad habits.

Negativity

I seem to be a ‘glass half empty’ kind of girl. I don’t know if this is related to being Aspie or just to being me. Micky Blue Eyes mentions his fervent desire to just take off to Darwin or just about anywhere, in fact and my train of thought goes something like “Oh shit, plane travel with 3 kids. NIGHTMARE.  Scorching heat.  NIGHTMARE.  NO WAY. FUCK THAT.” Versus: "Awesome. A chance to travel in Australia and spend time with my family."

Procrastination

I seem to live by the motto: Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow? This seems to worked out well considering that I’m now 42 years old and still have no idea what I want to do when I grow up.

Comparisons

I have the extremely helpful gift of constantly comparing myself with others and finding myself lacking.  This is not supremely useful in life. I don’t recommend it.

Disorganised

This is one trait where I’m totally going to use my Ass Burgers as an excuse. Because apparently we can be impaired in something called 'Executive Function' which, according to Prof Tony Atwood's Complete Guide to Asperger's Syndrome, is a psychological term which includes:

• organisational and planning abilities
• working memory
• inhibition and impulse control
• self-reflection and self-monitoring
• time management and prioritising
• understanding complex or abstract concepts
• using new strategies

Also according to Wikipedia, I can also use it as an excuse for my inability to resist cake! See, I knew it wasn't my fault!  Which brings me to my next bad habit...

 

Over Eating

I eat a lot of cake. And chocolate. And bread. And…EVERYTHING.

Emotional Eating

I eat more than usual of all of the above when I’m sad or stressed.

More Eating

Then I just eat some more just for the sake of it.

Did I mention, eating?

Yep, you guessed it, more eating.

General Laziness

I would be completely and utterly shocked and appalled at my own monumental and breathtaking  laziness except that I CAN’T BE BOTHERED.  What I can be bothered doing, though is...

EATING! You know, just for something completely different. Then I get depressed that I’m fat, so I eat some more and get more depressed and more fat and so on…and basically one way or the other I just need to shut my mouth. Either shut it it and stop eating quite so much or shut it and stop whinging that I’m fat. Genius.

Quite a few of these habits fall into the area of ‘blogging’ habits as well as personal.  I’m a disorganised, lazy blogger who flies by the seat of my pants and pulls any ridiculous, tedious rubbish out of my arse at the last minute,  just like this crap. You’re welcome.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

 

                                                    
                               What are your bad habits?

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Rambling Rants

Since I already banged on about mindfulness last week and how absolutely brilliant and fabulous I am with the technique, I figured I would have nothing to rant about this week for The Lounge. Then, I found myself in a perfectly charming mood for most of the week. I felt like punching anyone who had the misfortune to glance sideways at me. Nice. This was when I wasn't feeling all bloated, blah and sooky sooky la la. Thank you, PM Fucking S. I hate you.

These mood swings persisted for most of the week, until the other day when I was innocently sitting down minding my business, and BAM! It felt like I’d been stabbed. Nope, just period pain. Oh, the joys of being a woman.

Which brings me to another joy of being female. Bra's. I am 42 and I’ve never found a comfortable one yet. I’m beginning to think that using the word bra and comfortable in the same sentence is an oxymoron.

While I am here whinging away, I may as well whine about the weather. It’s COLD. I have to put up with freezing my tits off for at least another 2 months before I can begin whinging that it’s TOO HOT!! Hmph. 

What else can I whinge and rant about? Oh yeah, yesterday I had Mr 9’s Parent/Teacher interview. I don’t know what it is about these things that make me feel like I’m a little girl at school again, being chastised by the teacher for reading my  Enid Blyton book under the desk when I was supposed to be working. Not that I ever did that. Nope. No way. Ahem.

The teacher mentioned that Mr 9 often doesn’t complete his homework. Yeah, there’s a reason for that. He sometimes needs my help and I DON’T UNDERSTAND IT. Year 3 Homework. THE SHAME.

Why does homework have to be so freaking complicated? And why is there so quite so much of it? I sent my kids to school instead of home schooling them so I didn't have to deal with this stuff. In fact, I can’t even believe there are people who would seriously consider that as an option. I mean, of course I admire it think it’s sheer insanity, but I couldn’t do it myself.

What's that? I'm a lazy arsed bogan? Well, duh. EXACTLY. I need the freaking teachers to do all that shit for me. It's not like my boys will learn much from me other than Advanced Cake Eating Skills. I've got that covered. 

Of course, being such a lazy arsed bogan, I left it until the last minute to come up with this post (so far, it's been worth the wait, right?) then Thursday rolled around and it was time for The Lounge link up and I had nothing prepared, when I woke up feeling all dizzy and nauseous without even having had a single drink the nigh t before! What is with that? 

But then, this morning, I had the house to myself, as Micky Blue Eyes had taken the car to be checked for rego and Mr 4 was at my parents house. After dutifully trudging up to the school with Mr 11 and 9, I then came home, happily made myself a coffee and sat down, in glorious silence, thinking I would be able to do some blog posts in peace. Wrong.

The computer DID NOT WORK. I spent hours fucking around unplugging and re-booting it, swearing at it and feeling like throwing it. Now it appears to be working, but who knows how long that will last.

 

 

 

Another thing which had me peeved this week, was when I decided to dye my hair. I  bought one of those new foamy ones. It was super easy to apply. The only problem was, it has a very strong perfume, so naturally, because I am super sensitive to such things, by the time I went to bed later that night I had a pounding headache. Which pisses me off, because it probably means I can’t use it again and it was  so much easier than the other messy, drippy dyes and having to cling wrap my head. Hmph. DOUBLE HMPH, EVEN.

I know. That doesn't make sense, but when do I ever make sense? Plus, I used the word 'rambling' in the title, so that should have been a give away that this post would be a heap of rambling CRAP. You knew you what you were getting yourself into right there, okay? So, I'm not going to apologise for the few minutes of your life you'll never get back after reading this drivel. Oh, alright. SORRY. Better luck next time. I might come up with something readable. Not promising anything, however.

 

Linking with The Lounge which is being hosted by Robomum.

 

What has you ranting and raving this week?

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Leaves On A Stream

Hello there! I am linking up this old post for Life This Week. The one where I took the piss out of being mindful. Then I got cancer and suddenly shit got real and I had to start taking this stuff seriously... But that's another story.

Anyway here are my rantings from 2013. Enjoy.

As a general rule I am usually quite placid and easy going. Consequently it does take rather a lot to really piss me off. So therefore I knew I was going to find this topic extremely difficult. Not much truly riles me. I am languid and sedate. Especially now, as I am slowly becoming proficient at this whole mindfulness marlarkey, you see. So even that barking dog next door, barely ruffles a reaction in me. I am focused in the present moment with impartial non-judgement. I won’t let it bother me. Nope. No way. It’s just a dog barking. ENDLESSLY. Big deal, right?

Similarly, that mountain of lego that seems to multiply and spread to every corner of the house, is just lego. Silly old lego. EVERYWHERE. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve trodden on it.  The hours that it takes to painstakingly make sure every single last piece of the crap, erm.. I mean, the lego, is off the floor before you can vacuum, is just another part of life. Impartial non-judgement. Yep, that’s me these days. I get it.  It’s neither good nor bad. It just is. Doesn’t bother me AT ALL.  If I miss a few pieces and therefore inadvertently vacuum them up, so what? It only means the vacuum cleaner will become blocked LOSE SUCTION AND I HAVE TO FUCK AROUND TAKING IT OUTSIDE AND TAKING IT APART TO SEE WHERE THE PIECE IS STUCK…but, oops, why am I shouting?  Sorry.  Back to the mindfulness. Breathe. It’s no big deal. This mindfulness is really the SHIZZ. Totally works.

If I slave over a hot stove cooking a wonderful meal for my family only to serve it up to three ungrateful bastards lovely boys who recoil in horror as if I had served them dog shit on toast, why should I let it get to me?  Especially if, at that precise moment, Micky Blue Eyes decides to talk to me about something accountant like and tedious important, saying something like “Blah blah blah spreadsheet, blah blah blah profit margins blah blah something blah blah”(or at least that’s what I hear), it doesn’t make me want to poke my own eyeballs out. No way. I’m too calm and centred for that.

I can sit down to have a cakie and it doesn’t annoy me that it’s bad for me, while boring old broccoli is extremely good for me. Because I’m eating mindfully, so that means I’ll be able to stop after a few mouthfuls. Somehow the whole cake is gone with those few mindful mouthfuls, though. Ahem. Details. 

I am totally grounded and centred in the moment. NOTHING bothers me anymore. Now that I am mindful the following things simply never annoy me AT ALL:

·       Waiting in queues.

·       Vague Facebook status updates.

·       Sales assistants who are nowhere to be seen when you need them, but fling the curtains back to the change rooms while hollering “How are you going in there?” when you are half naked.

·       My boys endless fascination with Spiderman and all superheroes.

·       Ditto their Harry Potter fascination.

·       The Voice judges and all of their phoney gushing over the contestants. When Ricky Martin says “you took me to another place” I no longer think, well why don’t you go to that place and stay there, Ricky? Nope. No way.

·       Having to share a computer.

·       Making a doctor’s appointment and STILL having to wait.

·       Making a doctor’s appointment at 8am for the first appointment to avoid the previously mentioned waiting and STILL WAITING.

·       The gross unfairness of male grooming and maintenance versus female grooming and maintenance.

·       Telemarketers.

·       Bra’s.

Yep, mindfulness has cured me of all of all that annoyance. What a relief Sigh.

 So when I went to see a shrink, riddled with crippling anxiety and she suggested this mindfulness crap technique and gave me a cd, which I listened to and some dude implored me in a flat monotone to just let my thoughts drift past like leaves on a stream, it didn’t totally annoy me that I paid $150 bucks an hour for this ABSOLUTE FUCKING CRAP!!! LEAVES ON A FUCKING STREAM!! I’M MORE LIKELY TO IMAGINE MYSELF THROWING THE FUCKING CD AT YOU!!  FUCKING MINDFULNESS!! GIVE ME SOME FUCKING VALIUM AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!!  YOU TOO, YOU FUCKING STUPID BARKING DOG!! FUCKING SHUUT UUUUUUUUUUUP!

AHEM.

Good lord. Where did that come from? Oh dear. Right then, I’m off to practice watching my thoughts drift past like leaves on a stream. Or, to kick something. One or the other.

What are your pet peeves? Do you 'get' mindfulness?

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