Ticking Off Lists Ticks Me Off: Another Post About Nothing

To be perfectly honest with you I know NOTHING. In fact, I know a whole lot of nothing about absolutely NOTHING.  I’m a nothing expert, if you will. Just what the World needs.  Especially with all these ProBlogger posts circulating the blogosphere about ‘useful’ content. 

Meh. 

Instead, I bring to you a completely useless post about, you guessed it: NOTHING! You’re welcome.

I know that I am frightfully hungry right now and uncertain whether to plunge ahead with that trusty meal we tend to call lunch. You see, my parents mentioned that they would be calling in and I fondly imagined that this might coincide with lunch as it has at other times. But they haven’t appeared as yet. Which is extremely rude, as I expected them to provide the lunch. HMPH.

(Mum, I’m joking if you’re reading this!) Oh who am I kidding? Of course she's reading this! Nobody else does. Sniff. 

I know that I’m in a rather wistful, dreamy, reflective mood today. You know, as opposed to all the other days when I’m alert, efficient and organised. Not to mention delusional. Shut up. We weren’t supposed to mention that!

I know that I have at least attempted to become alert, efficient and organised. In the last few months I have started developing a habit of writing down a to-do list and ticking it off. I know! Ground breaking! I’ve always been cutting edge. 

Anyway, despite my forays into list-making, there is no discernible evidence of this unique endeavour. My house still resembles a war-zone with no end of things to-do in sight. This is most disheartening. What I would like to know is: how do people receive pay-offs from house-keeping and organising? I suppose they are just better at it than me. Bloody show-offs.

  

This ticking off lists is starting to tick me off. I want pay-offs! After all, if I’ve gone to the astonishing effort of doing and completing five million things in a day, I expect fan-fare: crowds cheering, balloons and celebratory champagne.  Plus, a million dollars in cold hard cash, thanks very much. 

If Kim Kardashian can demand buckets of cash just for turning up to an event with her large arse and even larger attitude, I don’t see why I, a modest house wife, shouldn’t be able to demand the same. 

I consistently turn up in my own ramshackle home, with my large arse, and make a lacklustre attempt at maintaining some semblance of disorder. I mean, where is the justice? 

On a side note, isn't ‘ramshackle’ a most delightful word? It’s almost worth having a ramshackle home, just so that I can confidently use the word ‘ramshackle’.  Dilapidated and dishevelled would also work here. 

Who wants to have a home that could only be described as ‘perfect’when you can have one that is ramshackle, dilapidated and dishevelled?  Everybody?  Oh. As you were, then.

I still stand by the above words.  And live with them. In them? Whatever.

You know how I mentioned that I was frightfully hungry a few paragraphs ago. It would appear that I am now ravenous. I may have to go to all the effort of making my own lunch. Shocking. 

Related: when Micky Blue Eyes asks me ‘What are you having for lunch?’ what he really means is ‘Make me lunch’. As I typed that he did make his own toast. But none for me. Grounds for divorce really, if you ask me.

In other astounding news, it’s raining! Why not? Just for something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.

Oh well, I guess I had better go and have lunch and tick it off my list.  Of course it’s on my to-do list! Breakfast, lunch AND dinner! That way, at least I know I’ll definitely tick three things off my list of five million. Winning! 

Linking up with Ann at Help!! I'm Stuck!! for Things I Know. 

What's ticking you off? What things do you know? 

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Cakie Queen

Well, today's confession is perfect for me. The self-confessed Queen Of Cakies. Actually it's not much of a confession. It's old news. Anybody who has ever read this space knows I'm the Cakie Queen.

I love cake but it doesn't seem to like me. It appears to want to make me fat. How frightfully RUDE. The same phenomenon applies to my other weakness: chocolate. It really is quite unfair that this love affair is unrequited. Sniff. 

It has also become a clandestine affair. Forbidden fruit and all that. Over a year ago the not very surprising shocking news came that my cholesterol levels were a concern. Additionally, my blood sugar was somewhat borderline. This would have indicated that I should have dutifully started the I Quit Sugar programme, pronto.

Instead, I embarked on the I Don't Really Want To Quit Sugar So  I'll Pretend That Didn't Happen Programme. This involves inserting ones head in ones posterior. Then compromising your health by continuing in much the same vein, but with an extra dollop of guilt. As if the guilt I already had wasn't quite enough, thanks very much. Yes, I'm very mature.

After all, the days of being able to take the 'Mars a day' advertising slogan quite literally(which I did as a teen), were well and truly behind me decades ago.

Feeling foolish, and thinking I needed a massive kick up my afore- mentioned rather large posterior, I signed up for the Get Healthy Programme. You know the one. They advertise it on the telly in between all the ads for Maccas and Magnums. You have a telephone coach call every week to guide you on a path to healthy eating.

Apparently, I seem to have confused it with the Get Unhealthy Programme. I have made some improvements. I'm cooking a lot more healthy meals for the family. But my sugar addiction remains intact. Sigh.

I appear to be one of those folk whose only arsenal against avoiding temptation (especially of the cake shaped variety) is simply never having the temptation in front of me. Ever.

Easy peasy.

All I need to do is avoid all shops and restaurants and social occasions FOREVER. Meanwhile, I can live on the rations that Micky Blue Eyes pokes through the bars of the cage I'll have to stay in. I'll be so feral without my sugar fix I won't be fit for any human contact. Done.

The other day I had a conversation with my Mum that went something like this:

"Have you been back for your blood test again?"

"Um, no..." I replied.

"You better make sure you do it!" she admonished me. It was just like I the time when I was three years old and scribbled all over the living room walls. I was a very naughty girl.

"Okay." I agreed meekly, already feeling faint. I hate the thought of blood, let alone the sight of it.

The same day, I arrived home to find a reminder from my GP complete with a pathology slip. I think the universe is trying to tell me something. Well, my Mum and my GP are, anyway.

This shit is getting real. I really am a middle aged woman.  Who knew? It may actually be well past the time to relinquish my crown and officially step down as the Cakie Queen. Sigh. Double Sigh. Triple Sigh. Hysterical sobbing even.

I know. I'm frightfully immature. I can't accept eating cakies and sugar in moderation. Meanwhile, there are children dealing with the reality of living with Diabetes every day. I know I'm being ridonkulous. I also know ridonkulous is not word. But I DON'T CARE. So ner! 

Anyway, I'm going to go and have my blood test this week and accept the reality of whatever I'm told.

On the plus side, I bought a set of scales the other day. I tested the display model and it told me I've lost about 1.5 kilos!! Okay, that's not much. But I'll take anything, considering the amount of cake I shovel in. Ahem.

And I promise I won't bore you with anymore posts about my weight or failed attempts to give up my beloved cakies. Deal.

Linking up for I Must Confess.

What is your favourite sweet treat? 

Have you ever been successful in giving it up?

Is the I Quit Sugar programme really as awful as it sounds? 

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Monday Morning Moaning

I must confess that I have NO IDEA what little mini confessions I  can confess to. I'm desperately trying to think of something and coming up as empty and blank as...well, my mind. So this could be interesting.

Or, you know, as boring as batshit. But bear with me. You know you want to. Okay, you don't really want to.  Just think of me, if you will, as that crashing, heaving bore you sometimes end up sitting next to on a plane or at any social occasion. You know the kind. The ones that want to regale you with every intricate detail of their tedious existence. Meanwhile, you sit there apparently spellbound but really suppressing the urge to scream. But you're  too nice and polite so you  smile and nod instead. Or is that just me? 

Alternatively, I guess you could just click away right now. I can't really stop you.  Hmph.  

You're still here?  Oh. I guess that means I do have to come up with  something. Hmmm, let's see....

I've got nothing.

In which case, I might as well just steal every one else's ideas be inspired by others and list the things I'm completely over. Every other bugger blogger seems to have given this a spin and I like to be cutting edge and original.  Shut up. 

The things I am COMPLETELY over, in  no particular order, are:

SOCCER

More specifically, getting up on a Saturday morning and schlepping out to the boys games. This involves a complicated game of tag as there are three of them, two of us and only one car.  Therefore, I confess I am somewhat elated that the season has finally come to an end. HALLELUJAH! 

Moreover, I still remain firmly convinced that my boys should really have taken up cross-dressing instead of soccer as an extra-curricular activity. I'm sure getting on some fishnets and stilettos would be so much easier than those bloody soccer socks, boots and shin pads. Nightmare. 

HOME  IMPROVEMENT SHOWS

In particular the shows where they  de-clutter and make-over ordinary suburban homes. 

I'm always bemused by the after shots of such make-overs. The house is transformed from sheer chaos to sleek and stylish, complete with calming scented candles flickering away for added ambiance. 

Seriously?  Candles? With children?  If I lit any candles around here the house would be up in flames quicker than you could say 'insurance claim'.  Then again, I  HAVE paid the insurance. Ahem...

I'd love to challenge them to do our home. I'm sure if that Peter Walsh character took one look at our humble abode, his solution would be pretty clear cut. He would simply take out a hand grenade, detonate it, hand to me and RUN. 

FIGHTS OVER PLAYSTATION/COMPUTER

I have completely failed as a parent. Tragically, my boys do not  possess their own exclusive lap-top/PS4/Ipad/Ipod and any other device I probably haven't  heard of. I'm so broke mean. How can I deprive them of such luxuries necessities?  This means they have to do the unthinkable: SHARE.  Fights and indignation ensue. 

But why don't you just set them time limits I hear you ask?  You're the boss, after all. 

GENIUS. Why didn't I think of that? Oh wait. I did. 

It goes like this:

They are given a time and happily agree with rapturous thank yous. As soon as their time is up they immediately announce to their patiently waiting brother: "It's your turn, Bro!" 

They blissfully hi-five each other while beaming and the next person takes their turn. All is sweetness and light. 

YEAH. RIGHT. In my dreams. 

In reality there are furious shriekings of:

"That's not fairrrrrrrrr!!"

"Why does HE always get to go first??!!" 

"Muuum, he's  TEASING meeeee!!"  (If one smirks at the other as they reluctantly trade places). 

This can escalate to the point where they effectively try to kill one another while Micky Blue Eyes and I issue time outs and groundings.

Ahhhhh, the serenity. I mean, insanity.....

.

LASER TAG  PARTIES (OR ANY  PARTIES,  REALLY...)

I have been to two of these recently. Mr 5 was invited to one and then Mr 10. They are one big cacophonous wall of noise. It makes my head hurt just thinking about it. 

In spite of this, I know that when November rolls around and Mr 5 becomes Mr 6, I will dutifully book him one. This is still preferable than inviting people to our hand grenade worthy home. And infinitely preferable to me having to be the hostess to any party. I'll just make sure I have extra strength panadol with codeine on the day for the inevitable headache.

Which brings me to my next item....

HEADACHES

Micky Blue Eyes and I must be responsible for keeping the makers  of Nurofen thriving. On any given day, one or the other or both of us have a headache. Fun times.  

BROKEN SLEEP AND DISJOINTED, CRAZY DREAMS

Last night's blissful  slumber involved a  dream of passing an horrific car accident. I spotted a  severed  head on the road with huge pools of blood. Needless to say, I woke up feeling sick and shaken. 

I am not taking any illegal drugs, so where are these ridonkulous dreams coming from?  Perhaps I should just start a meth habit and be done with it? Except I have no idea where I would find anything like that in the classy old western suburbs of Sydney. 

That concludes my Monday morning moaning. Big sighs of relief all round. Well, I could keep going, but I'm sure we're all over crashing, heaving bores. Ahem.

Linking up forLaugh Link and I Must Confess. 

What are you completely over? 

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Happy Is The Way I'm Feeling...

It feels like it's been a while since I've checked into my little World here at Nessville. In reality, it's only been just over a week. And what a week it's been. Such a sad week, with the passing of Robin Williams added to all the other usual sad stuff that is the news every day.  So sad, that the Lounge Lizards want us to get all happy just to lighten things up a bit. So I will.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I am a simple deep and complex creature who can somehow find happiness with the most inane unusual and interesting things. Such as:


Why wouldn't this make you happy? Totally cracks me up.

• Carpenters (the musical duo NOT the tradesmen. Although if they were cute tradesmen...*coughs* I mean, erm, I'd still stick to the musical duo as I'm a married woman and all that. Ahem.
• Karen Carpenter (TOTALLY different thing. Sort of. Kind of.  Okay, not really)
• Music in general
• Books
• Reading (which kind of explains the books thing)
• Exercising. Yes, exercising! (Tragically, you can't get the same endorphins from sleeping. Hmph!)
• Strength training. Yes, strength training. (I have buns of steel. Well, I might if it wasn't for the next three things...)
• Cakies

  

  A few of my favourite things sent to me by my favourite
  imaginary friends. Thanks Posski and Randa!

• Chocolate
• Food in general
• Pretty notebooks
• Make-up
• Jewellery
• Clothes (comfy track suit pants ARE clothes!!)
• Blogging
• Writing
• Laughing
• Mangoes (the only good thing about Summer is all the stone fruits)
• Strawberries
• Cups of tea
• The colour green
• The colour purple ( but not necessarily together WITH green)
• Pub meals
• All meals (ahem...)

• Wine
• Scotch and coke (these last two can make me EXTREMELY happy *hiccups and giggles*)
• Lipstick (see number 12)
• Hair dye
• Dogs (especially Beagles and Dachshunds)
• Babies (as long as they're somebody else's at this point)
• Movies
• Warm (but not too hot) weather
• Roses (the flowers and the Cadbury variety)
• Being warm
• My bed
• Snuggling in bed (see above)
• Hugs with my boys
• Houses
• Dreams
• Pens
• Phone
• Computer/Internet
• Facebook (I may be addicted. There was no need for the word 'may' in that sentence...)
• Blogger ( So I can bore everyone. You're welcome)
• Vitamins
• Autumn leaves
• Spring
• Comfy shoes
• Shoulder massages
• Any massages
• Clean sheets
• Staying in motels
• My heat pillow (because I'm like a hundred year old woman named Enid with all my aches and pains)
• Blank paper
• 'Anne' books
• Retro things
• Daydreaming
• Sleeping
• Pointless lists
• Diaries and journals
• Humour
• Special occasions
• Friends (I think I still have one or two)
• My boys
• Walks
• Quiet time
• Old photos
• Words
• Chick flicks
• Chick lit
• My cakie make-up bag
• My cakie pyjamas
• My cakie notebook (I'm sensing a theme here)
• Imaginary (online) friends
• My family
• Funny blog posts (reading them or writing them)
• Funny things my boys say
• Micky Blue Eyes (just in case he's reading this: it means nothing that you didn't make the list until now. I was just saving the best until last)

Thus ends another pointless fascinating list. Now, I'm off to my happy place.... 

Linking up with Tegan from Musings Of The Misguided for The Lounge.

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Let It Go

I'm not sure if I can pin point one specific moment in my life that stands out above others. There was no moment when I could have chosen two different paths. I never really had any path. I just drifted along in my own little World. This has worked out well since I now have this space specifically for being in my own little World. See? I knew being a drifting daydreamer was a great Life Plan. Ahem.

It sounds a bit naff to say it, but probably the day that I first found out I was pregnant does stand out for me. It's a long story.  Suffice to say, I was already 26 weeks pregnant and had NO IDEA. But I was thrilled. For years I had believed that it could never happen. That day was better than winning the lottery. I wish I could bottle that kind of euphoria and sell it because I'd be a freaking millionaire.

While becoming a Mother was genuinely thrilling to me and I wouldn't trade it for anything, little did I know the sacrifices that were coming.

 In short, I have completely and utterly let myself go.

There was a time when I used to love dressing up. Donning a lovely frock was one of my favourite past times. Usually they were sewn by my Mum. I loved myself sick in these frocks. These days I hardly ever wear dresses.

Similarly, I enjoyed going to the hairdressers and whittling away several hours and a fair amount of cash to have my hair done. Although why I thought the mullet-perm was ever going to be a good idea back in 1987 remains a mystery.

I liked to wear make-up and would paint my face up with gusto.  I never realised that I was over-doing the eye shadow. Tragically, I believed that green or purple eye shadow were a good look, but at least I was making an effort.

Despite these efforts I've always had an aversion to high heels and pantyhose. I would occasionally wear them, though. Now they are like my once tiny waist - non-existent in my World. Sigh.

Yes, I certainly have let myself completely 'go'.

I know this because:

• I haven't seen the inside of a Hairdressers since....never mind....
• I'm looking forward to embracing my inner Prue or True and having a silver bob or pixie cut because I CAN'T BE BOTHERED ANYMORE.
• I have clothes in at least three different sizes. I convince myself that the larger ones clearly have the wrong label on them. Ahem.
• The real reason I have three different sizes is because most of my clothes are stretchy, floaty, elastic waisted or tunics etc.
• The rare times I do actually slap a bit of war paint on for a night out my son enquires in perplexed tones: Why have you got make-up on?
• I took a selfie or two for the first time ever, but only after carefully checking for poses that don't emphasise my double chin. Okay, chins.
• I often seethe inside at the injustice of how much easier it is to be a man. So much so, that I've seriously considered just shaving my hair off and wearing Micky Blue Eyes' clothes out to the shops. After all, these days I can manage to sport quite an impressive moustache, so I may get away with it. Until I speak. But it could be quite amusing to see the check out chick's reaction. No?
• The only clothes I buy are from 'Nanna' stores like Millers or the fat plus section at Best & Less. Classy.
• My skin care routine consists of slathering on a bit of sunscreen if ever I should log off the computer and emerge blinking and bewildered into the sunshine.  I may whack on a bit of the old Oil Of Olay once a week or so when I notice my sand-paper like skin.
• I wear make-up so infrequently that I appear to have developed an allergic reaction to it. As soon I apply the slightest amount, my eyes sting and water like crazy. Or I could just be weeping that there is no miracle cream to disguise double chins.
• I am clueless about the meaning of words like 'threading' and 'shellac' and have to Google them.
• I am baffled by the apparent burning urge of every woman in Australia to want to dress like Nina Proudman despite being a fan of Offspring.
• I look back at old photographs of myself and am astounded that I wasted so much energy thinking I was fat when I wasn't. Immediately a foreboding feeling washes over me that I may be looking back at current photos ten years from now and thinking the same thing. *shudders*

• If I posted an Outfit Of The Day, as some bloggers do, it would mostly be an alluring mix and match of joggers, track suit or yoga pants, jumper or polar fleece jacket.
• I never actually do yoga in the afore mentioned yoga pants. Shut up. I do aerobics in them. So ner.
• I still need to wear these items despite jumping around like a lunatic doing aerobics on a virtually daily basis. *sobs*
• I have never worn skinny jeans. See above.
• I believe all jeans are over-rated.

After writing this list I feel like a cup of tea and a good lie down. What I really need is a good long look in the mirror and to get a grip. On something other than cake. That might be handy.

Linking up for Laugh Link and I Must Confess.

Have you let yourself 'go'?

What moment in time would you go back to?

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Conversation With My 18 Year Old Self

On January 15th, 1989, I turned 18. I went out to a restaurant at Rooty Hill RSL with my parents and a few friends because CLASSY. My parents gave me a beautiful amethyst ring. I had no boyfriend. I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up, despite suddenly being considered legally an adult. I had a mullet perm. Which probably explains the no boyfriend thing. Shut up, it was 1989. Besides, I was excruciatingly shy and quiet. Some things never change. Ahem.

I wonder what my 18 year old self would make of me and my life now. What would a conversation between my 18 year old self and my 43 year old self be like? What would my 18 year old self say? I'll tap her on the shoulder as she is about to cut her birthday cake...

My 18 year old self suddenly stomps in and eyeballs me furiously in all her mullet-permed glory....


What do you want? I was about to have cake! And so are you...for the love of God woman, clearly you don't have the same metabolism that I did anymore. Ditch the cakies and chocolate already! 

*Pauses with cake half way to mouth* Um, okay.

You're hiding cake behind your back, aren't you? Throw it in the bin!

I am not! Okay, yes I am. *Sighs and sheepishly throws it in the bin*

And any other cake or chocolate hidden in the cupboard or fridge! NOW! 

Look, I know you think you're special with that mullet-perm and tiny waist, but let me tell you, it won't last!

Exactly! Throw them in the bin! 

*Pouts* Okay, okay! *reluctantly throws all hidden stash in the bin*

Anyway, what's wrong with my perm? It looks good!

In 1989 maybe, but trust me, when you look back you will realise it was a very bad idea.

Well, at least tell me I have good hair in 2014. What does it look like? 

Um, well, it's going grey and...erm.. I don't really bother with the hairdressers anymore.

Oh, that's weird. But I guess you're too busy working these days! Of course, I had no idea in Hell what we wanted to do at 18, but I'm sure you've got it all figured out now! So tell me, what exciting career did we end up having? 

Erm, well the thing is...we don't really have a career...

What do you mean?

Um, we did work....for a time.. but....

But what? What did we do? Please tell me that I finally 'came out of my shell' like everyone keeps telling me to and we became an Oscar winning actress or pop star? *sits on edge of seat* 

No, but remember how you love books and reading?

*sounding skeptical* Yeeees...but...

Well, we sort of became a pretendy Librarian! *tries to make it sound exciting*

A  pretendy Librarian?! What does that even mean?

You're a Library Technician.

What's that?

Sort of like a Library Assistant.

Awkward silence.

Doesn't exactly sound like a proper Librarian to me. And it doesn't sound very exciting! *pouts*

Yes, but you will go and work at a Law firm when you're around 30 where they will obligingly allow you to pretend to be one for a while!

Wait a minute... a law firm? So, what you're saying is, there are no books actually involved? The fiction books that I love? 

Um, not really. Just legal books.

Oh! And then I develop a passionate interest in Law and end up becoming a Lawyer??!!

Erm no...but you'll work around Lawyers in Legal Libraries doing the filing.

Filing? That sounds utterly boring! 

Well, yes. But the good news is, you become so efficient at it that you are in demand with Library Locums and have to turn down a position because you've become a Mum!

Ohhhhhhh! That is good news! I've always wanted to be a Mum! So that must mean I got married first, right? Who is my husband? I imagine he's some sort of dashing Gilbert Blythe or Mr Darcy type?

Yes, you are married. But you'll realise that Mr Darcy and Gilbert Blythe are fictional characters and marry a perfectly decent sort of bloke called Mick.

Oh. Well, at least tell me that this Mick character is somebody interesting and exciting! Is he a musician, perhaps? Or maybe an artist? 

He's an Accountant.

He's a what?

You heard me.

At least that means he's good with money, right? We must be filthy, stinking rich and live in a luxurious mansion overlooking the harbour?! 

Not exactly. You do own a home. A simple, suburban home pretty much in the same area where you were born and grew up. 

*Sighs dramatically* So, you're telling me that I become a Library Assistant, marry an Accountant named Mick and live in an ordinary house in Dullsville??

You make it sound so bad! It's not so bad once you come off your high horse, Miss High And Mighty Mullet-Perm! HMPH! 

Okaaay...so, with all the money you've saved living in this 'modest' home, we must have been able to travel extensively. Am I right? 

Erm...yes.

Yay! So where have we been? London, Paris, New York?

We have travelled, just not overseas. But we've been to most places in Oz, though. Tassie, Perth, Cairns, Darwin, Queensland. Not to mention.. Dubbo....

DUBBO??!! You are kidding, right! 

Oh God..I said 'not to mention' Dubbo. Why did I mention it? 

*Hopefully* You were joking?

Erm...*coughs*

*Sobs*

Look, it's not that bad! I can tell you that even if it doesn't sound very exciting, you did end up enjoying those trips. Plus you were able to buy lots of books at Op Shops as well. 

I have to shop at Op Shops? Am I poor? *still sniffling*

No, no! Just...economical! So no more crying..

I'm sorry. It's just that my life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes now...

Hang on a minute. You've been watching that Anne Of Green Gables mini-series starring Megan Follows again, haven't you? 

*Indignantly* So what if I have?

Sweetie, you need to turn it off and get out more. I hate to tell you, but your so-called current 'friendships' are going to go pear-shaped.

*SObs harder* It sounds like my whole LIFE has gone pear-shaped!!

No, not really. It's all good. Trust me, when your five year old son crawls onto your lap to hug you and says: 'I love you, Mum! You're the best in the World!',  you'll feel pretty content with your lot in life.

Ohhhhhh! *melts* That's right, I'm a Mum! So I have a son?

Three sons. 

How gorgeous! I imagine they are quiet, dreamy, poetic boys who love reading? 

Um.... yes. Yes, they are. *crosses fingers behind back* 

I knew it! So I'm a devoted Mum of three angelic boys and married to Mick. But I must have so much time on my hands when they're at school...

*Snorts* Um.....

What other interests do I have? I imagine I've totally left The Carpenters behind and have developed a cutting edge taste in music? After all, I can't wait to get Madonna's new album!  What does my current record collection look like? 

That would be Like A Prayer. 

What?

Madonna's 1989 album. 

Right. So I still love playing records?

Firstly, we don't really have records in 2014 anymore. Secondly, you still love The Carpenters...

I do? Oh. Well, if you're onto a good thing....

Exactly!  Plus, for about five minutes in 1994 they sort of become retro-cool and for once you are the coolest person in the Universe because you liked them all along...

Well, duh. But how do I still listen to them if there's no records?

There will be compact discs and then there will be iTunes available on the internet, although you haven't quite caught up with the technology...

You've lost me. The internet? 

Yes. You see, computers will become very common place and popular in the future. On them you will be able to access something called the World Wide Web where you can visit web sites. Among them will be social media sites where you can connect with others online. This will be one of your main interests....

Hold it. You rather rudely told me that I need to get out more, but you're saying that that you do most of your interacting with other people on a computer? Don't you STILL need to get out more? 

Ahem. Point taken. *Makes mental note to catch up with friends* However, it's through this world wide web that you are able to start writing a blog. 

What on Earth is a blog? 

Blogs are different things to different people, but I guess yours is kind of like an online journal that you write....

Ohhhhh! And that's when I finally become a literary genius and best-selling author just like my sixth grade teacher and my Mum always predicted??!! 

Christ no. You're too lazy for that. But there are quite a few people who like reading your blog and it's a good hobby and outlet for you. 

So....let me see if I've got this straight...I am never going to magically 'come out of my shell' and do anything earth shatteringly important with my life? Even with my awesome hair, big earrings and even bigger shoulder pads? 

Not really. But the point is, it's all okay. At around age 40* you will discover something about yourself that will allow you to redefine your own definition of success. 

Hmph. What is it? Clearly it's not the ability to be psychic. All my future predictions were incorrect. *sniffs*

You'll have to wait and see. Now go and cut that birthday cake.

I don't want to wait until I'm 40! That's ANCIENT! 

Hmph. 

Oh okay, but what should I wish for? The ability to resist cake?

*Sighs* You may as well enjoy it while you can. 

Will do! See you in around 25 years! 

And with that, I realise it has been 25 years since I was 18. Now I do feel ANCIENT. Sigh. 

*At age 40, I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome.

Linking up late withLaugh Link and  I Must Confess. 

What do you think your 18 year old self would say to you now?

Can you believe that I had a mullet-perm?

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Online Lessons

The internet has taught me a good many things. In no particular order they are: 

• There is an inordinate number of dickheads out there.
• Luckily, there are just as many awesome people out there to balance it out.
• I seem to be fortunate or clever enough to avoid the dickheads (so far) and only encounter a lot of awesome.
• I am not alone. There are lots of other Aspergian people out there, like me.
• I am not the only weird person who loves Karen Carpenter/Carpenters.
• I am not the only introvert. Introverts LOVE the internet.
• The internet has allowed me to connect with like-minded people and taught me that I can communicate with others, even if it's not verbally.
• The internet has also taught me that are an extraordinary amount of people who like cats. Even if they're grumpy. Especially if they're grumpy. The cats, that is. Not the people who like them. Well, they might be, I suppose.
• The internet has proved that Andy Warhol's infamous declaration that everyone will be famous for 15 minutes was probably not far off the mark.
• I've also discovered that everyone has their battles. Even the people who seem have their shit together are probably just better at faking it.
• The only thing that inspirational memes inspire in me is the desire to gag or punch someone.
• It seems that with all this technology, as Jerry Seinfeld put it, we all have absolutely nothing to say to one another and we must say it RIGHT AWAY. Except it was funnier when he said it.
• I have an astonishing capacity for procrastination and time- wasting.
• That I don't really like controversial topics or opinions, even online. I'm that fence-sitting person. Shut up. I like to think of it as being tactful and diplomatic. What I really am is a chicken shit.
• I feel that I take introversion to a whole new level. I'm the quiet person in the corner in real life situations and the quiet blogger in the corner of the blogosphere. I'm happy in my own little world.
• Conversely, on occasion I do like to embarrass myself on the internet with photos of bad hair and frock choices. I like to mix things up a bit.
• That I'm a tiny drop in the ocean, or speck of sand on the shore in the bigger picture of life, the universe and everything.
• That I can trot out clichés and pass them off as blog fodder. See above point.
• That I should probably get out more.
• But the internet is addictive. Very, very addictive.
• I can be resourceful. After all, it was very resourceful of me to start this blog so I can bore you shitless entertain you with my brilliance.
• People like to take photos of their food and post them on Facebook for some reason. It has come to my attention that I did this for the first time the other day. I will totally understand if anyone unfriends me now.
• That 'unfriend' is now a word. A verb even. I think. 
• That I need to go back to Primary School and re-learn basic English and Grammar. I'm sure I'd still look cute in a uniform and pig tails.
• People can become totally engrossed with fictional characters in a soap opera and over react when they die. 
• Apparently everyone wants to dress like Nina Proudman from Offspring. Meanwhile I dress like Bogan Shazza from Boganville.
• There are an alarming amount of people who actually give a flying fuck about footy, soccer and anything with balls in it.
• There is something called Pimperest Pinterest. Don't ask me what this is. I have an account and still have no idea. 
• There is something called Twatter Twitter. I've been there and done that and I'm (mostly) over it. I just check in now and again to confirm this. Yep, I'm over it. 
• There is something called Instagram. I don't have an account and probably  never will. I'm a crap photographer. Plus, I avoid cameras but don't avoid cake. These two things may be related. Ahem. 
• I am shallow. I have nothing particularly enlightening or ground breaking to add to this list.
• I am easily distracted. I blame the internet. Which isn't fair, I've always been easily distracted. 
• Imaginary (online) friends are the bestest (look, I know it's not a word. I've just slipped it on purpose to annoy the Grammar Nazi's out there. So ner).  You can Facebook chat while still in your pyjamas and there is no need to madly race around cleaning the house like you would if they were really popping in.  
• People will keep on sending me gaming invites to Candy Crush, Farmville, Angry Birds and a gazillion other games despite me never once responding. Ever. And I never will. Supposedly you can block them, but I tried and nearly lost the will to live. I'll just keep on ignoring them. 
• I'm not smugly superior to all the gamers out there. It's just that I've already got time wasting and procrastination down to a fine art and don't need any further assistance, thanks very much. 
• On that note, I really should bring this bullet list limping to it's lame end because I'm just procrastinating. The end. 

Linking up with Ann at Help!! I'm Stuck! for Things I Know
 and sneaking in late forThe Lounge with Tegan at Musings Of The Misguided.

What has the internet taught you? 

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