Last night, the power went out. Sometimes this happens if it is really hot, and all of the air conditioners in Queensland have used up all the power, or something. Maybe it happened because it's really cold, and all of the heaters are using up all the power in Queensland.

Either way, I had a forkful of dinner in my gob when it went all dark and Charles Wooley disappeared into the night.

We froze and waited for it to come back on.

It didn't. For two hours.

So a couple of minutes in, we unfroze and considered hunting round for torches. Beardie's first thought was to open the fridge to get some light. Then he realised the flaw in this plan. My first thought was to shovel the rest of my dinner into my mouth, and this I did. Dinner is so much more exciting when each forkful is a mystery.

Things that you can do in the dark:

• play guitar, and then realise that it's been months since you've played, that your fingernails are too long, and that you suck
• read a book by torchlight
• talk about what the neighbours are doing. "Ooh, look, they're running around with torches too!"
• hold your torch under your chin so that you've got that whole spooky look going
• other stuff (coughCOUGHcough)
• walk up and down the street, seeing how far the blackout goes
• talk about how there's nothing to do when there's a blackout
• try and do various things that are impossible, because there's a blackout
  

And so on.

The main pro being that I finished my book, and the main con being, well, almost everything else.

But tonight all is well, and I am rapidly consuming the lovely, lovely electricity.

Sigh. At the moment, a blackout's the best I've got.

Today, I gave myself a home dye job. For the first time since I was 12 and wanted my hair to be purple. And now my hair is brown. Before the dye job, my hair was brown with crappy blonde bits that had half grown out. So today has been a resounding success.

Beardie bought an iPhone. Apparently iPhones are the bees knees. Due to me being 100 years old on the inside, I don't get the appeal. Doesn't the screen get all gross and fingerprinty all the time?

I had the day off today. This is ace.

I felt sick today, and still feel a bit queasy now. This blows.

I had curry for dinner, which made me feel worse. This was stupid.

All of the above happened yesterday, but I forgot to finish/publish the post.

Today, I went to work and did a lot of work and thought about work and worked.

It's all cold, and blustery, and I have stupid shoes that have no waterproofing and they give me squelchy feet. I hung my socks over a bin at work to dry them out. And then I wore the bin socks.

Today, I had to coach my coach. I am pretending to be my boss and had to coach my old team leader. This is ridiculous.

I am home, and my shoes are drying out, and the heater is cranking, and I'm rugged up with a fleecey blanket and a punnet of strawberries. Eating strawberries makes that "wild.... strawberries!" song stick in my head.

Wild..........

Strawberries!

Bye.

Here's how NOT to impress a total stranger:

• be so incredibly drunk that you aren't aware of what you're doing
• upon meeting them, take your tie off and wrap it around and around their head
• spill beer all over them
• almost break their friend's finger
• harrass everyone who is female
• slam your fists on the table repeatedly so that everyone's drinks fall over
  

And more! Now I know what you're thinking, and no, it's wasn't me. It was some random friend of a friend who totally ruined my night. What a monumental twat!

Aside from this, there was lovely, lovely trivia. And I never thought of myself as a StupidHead, but apparently when it comes to trivia, I am. I'm not sure exactly where we stood by the end of the night, but it was very far from first.

Having said that, I am seriously thinking about banning myself from alcohol altogether, because waking up with a hangover like death after Three And A Half Drinks is freaking ridiculous. It's obvious that I have a shitty girly body which can't handle anything at all, and I think that I need to accept this and move on. And I will start drinking pink lemonade and accept my role as the Designated Driver. This is my destiny.

Late. Rambling. Goodnight.

The lovely thing about acting as your boss is the masses of cash.

The shitful thing is having to tell your friends what to do. And having to tell your friend that the two-week relieving position they were promised has been given to someone else. And having to dob on everyone. Yes, I'm a dobber. It is shitful.

But another three weeks and I am done, and richer, and can hopefully salvage the friendships.

Aside from this, la de da de daa.

Aside from that, I have had the theme song from The Nanny in my head all day.

"She was out on her fannyyyyyyyyyy!"

And now I am going to watch SYTYCD, because the first couple of episodes always show the deluded people who think they can dance, but actually fall over and make twits of themselves. TV GOLD.

Once upon a time, Beardie and I went to the Great Land of Ikea. We went in to buy some cutlery, and walked out with some pillows, some glasses, various other random crap, a $2 breakfast in our bellies, and a stuffed rat and beaver.

We named the stuffed rat "Ratto" and the stuffed beaver "Beavo", because we are full of glorious imagination.

Some time passed, and it became evident that Beardie had a problem with Beavo. Their encounters would normally involve Beavo being punched in his soft plush beaver face, hurled across the room or sat/farted on.

I thought that this irrational hatred towards an inanimate object was hi-larious, and started purposely putting Beavo in Beardie's path, wherever he would go. This means that when Beardie would pull down the bed covers at night, Beavo would be there waiting. Every. Single. Night.

At first Beavo would just be thrown or punched, but sometimes I would find him under the back tyre of my car, and sometimes with his head stuck in the blender, and sometimes with his head stuck in the oven, awaiting his demise. It was all fun and games, but then last night Beardie cracked, and now Beavo is no more.


RIP Beavo. You were soft and cuddly and delightful, with truly terrible teeth.

Yes. Eventful weekend, etc.

So I'm standing there, facing them all, and I feel my face start to burn up. My palms start sweating. Actually, I just start sweating in general, like I'm playing football in a fleecey coat. My voice cracks a little, and I giggle nervously in between sentences.

I'm filling in for my boss, and that means running the meetings.

SHIT.

Option One: imagine them all naked.

Now I don't know about you, but if I was in a room of naked strangers it wouldn't make me feel at ease. It would freak me the hell out. And I would be trying to look anywhere other than their genitalia, but would inevitably accidentally look at somebody's privates, which would result in more stress than running the meeting. Like in real life when you realise that you just casually glanced at someone's crotch, and that person saw you do it.

Option Two: don't make eye contact with anyone.

Just focus on something above their heads, right? And pretend that I'm just talking to nobody. Of course, talking to nobody makes me feel silly, and is also a sign of having The Crazies. So, no.

Option Three: feign illness to get out of it.

No feigning required. Meetings make me feel ill.

Option Four: SUCK IT UP, BITCH.

Oh, alright, inner me. Gosh you're mean.



I'm all out of other options. I will just have to deal.

Though any suggestions to combat the superawfulness are welcome.

Bleurgh. I'm not cut out for this stuff.

Currently reading:



A Spot of Bother. It's going quite well. And I did like The Curious Incident very much. I read it on the bus while I mutter under my breath at the noisy teenage girls like a crazy old woman.

Just watched:



Stealing Beauty! What the eff! Everyone is all touchy-touchy with Liv Tyler, and everyone says random things which everyone else understands, and there's quite a bit of The Flashing and The Sexing. Jeremy Irons was once again successful in his portrayal of the token creepy man and it all ended very happily. I quite liked it.

Eating:



One of those boxes of Maltesers that they sell for fundraising. It's hugenormous. The roof of my mouth is going numb from sucking the chocolate off, and my throat is aching. Yes, I'm going to keep eating them.

Doing:



Diddly squat. I'm home alone for a bit and I trying to think about what suitably crap things I can do, that I would normally not want to inflict on others. I am thinking about perhaps digging out the crappiest, girliest movie I can find.

Plan!

All of a sudden, I have turned into a homebody.

Now I'll be the first to admit that I have always been a social retard, but I still used to give it a go, you know? Not so these days. On Friday night, I went out with a group from work to check out this new and super cheap place for drinking fun. And all I could do was look at my watch. This was after I'd had to force myself to go in the first place, which took a hell of a lot of willpower.

Me: Oh, I better get going now...
Them: No! Stay out and get shitfaced! We'll go here and here and do this and this!
Me: Oh. No, I need to get going. Another time!
Them: Why? What are you going to do at home?
Me: Um.

1. watch lame movies
2. watch lame TV shows
3. play with my computer
4. eat lardy food
5. sit around
6. play "On Top of Old Smoky" (oh YES, I have upgraded)

Me: I'm just not really prepared for a big night out tonight. Next time though, for sure!

So I went home at 8pm and did a selection of the above, and it was awesome in its own lame kind of way.

And that's ok, isn't it?

This weekend, you will most probably find me at this.

Gen Con, the super geeky conference for super geeks!

Should I dress up as:

a) a jedi
b) an asian schoolgirl
c) Buffy
d) Princess Peach
e) Chewbacca
f) a hobo

In truth, it will most probably be option f, through no effort of my own.

Hooray for being dishevelled and nerdy!