It feels like forever since I've blogged. Hectic times, my friend. Hectic times indeed.

Today I had my last day of a five-day training course. Well, it was my last day attending the course, and now I need to study my arse off if I want to have any hope at all of passing the test. The worrying thing about doing this course is how out of shape my brain is. I guess being a Team Leader isn't the most cerebral of jobs? It felt like it took me a few hours to blow the cobwebs out of my cranium and remember how to learn. And I'm still not sure I'm doing a very good job of it.

The whole point of me doing this course is to make me far more suitable for That Job I went for, so it is Very Important that I do well. Speaking of That Job, the Director keeps on giving me inside goss on where they are up to (wants to get rid of me, perhaps?) and I found out that they only received the applications last Friday. So I would expect that they would be finalising the shortlist, or inviting people to be interviewed, or whatever the hell they do next at the end of this week, or maybe the week after.

The other inside info that Captain BigBoss told me is that he heard that there were three jobs going, instead of just two. This made my tummy do a flip-flop, because my previous "investigations" told me that there were already two valid contenders for the two jobs available. But if there's three, then I may have a better chance, whether I am crap or not.

What I need to do is stop thinking about it, gosh darn it.

In between trying to learn all of this techy stuff I am now studying for my piano exams. Yes, I know how to take the fun out of a hobby! I decided to do exams in the hope that it would keep my motivation levels up, plus give me a target to aim for. And one of the songs that I can choose to perform is The Chamber of Secrets from Harry Potter, so therefore the whole world is jealous of me. It will probably be quite a long time before I can take the exam, especially since I seem to have no time to do anything at all right now.

Also, I did something to my ankle, so all I can do is hobble around and watch my stamina slowly disappear.

Summary: my brain is exploding and I am feeling unfit and podgy.

The end.

It's generic life update time!

Dexter! Dexter is the naughtiest kitty ever, and basically divides his time between slashing my flesh to pieces and sleeping on my hair at night. My right hand in particular looks as though I shoved it into the insinkerator. He has settled in very well and I love him muchly, despite the pain he causes me.

The Abbey Medieval Festival! Alas, good sirs and fair maidens, we did not go. And the friends who were supposed to go and then bring us hilarious stories also did not go, because they wanted to go to a chocolate fair instead. Chocolate over jousting? Oh, come on. I guess there is always next year.

The job! Have heard nothing yet but I would expect to receive some type of notification next week. I was the sneakiest of sneaky people and asked a friend with access to the government jobs database to have a look at how many other people had applied, and who they were. Only 11 applications! For two jobs! This is great, though I did recognise two of the names (and at least one of them is a shoo-in), so it's still very uncertain. I am hoping though, because to move into a shiny new job would be just delightful.

Boring fitness shit! I am on Week Eight of my running program, with just one more week left until I am officially Hardcore. And by Hardcore, I mean rubbish. But I should be able to hobble my way through Bridge to Brisbane, which was the whole idea. I can already foresee that being in the middle of thousands of other runners is going to make me run much faster than what I am capable of so that I tire in the first 30 seconds and have to sit down on the side of the road with a glass of water. Should be lovely!

Piano! It's official - I am going to be "performing" in a small concert for adult piano students at the end of September. I predict that I will completely cock it up. This is very certain. But I will ask Beardie to film it on my shiny new video camera and then perhaps I'll post it. Especially if I screw it royally, because it will probably be very hilarious (i.e. shockingly embarrassing for me).

What else! Nothing much. Doing some training over the next couple of weeks, followed by an exam, to turn me into a super 1337 techo nerd geek h4x0r type person. Going to a barbeque tomorrow at Beardie's boss's place, which is apparently a Big Deal and I'm not allowed to wear fat pants and thongs. Other than that, business as usual. Work is work, and highly worky.

I hope you are having a tip top weekend.

As you probably know, the reason I started RAT and ditched the Old Blog was related to my ex. Specifically, I wanted somewhere else that I could write, that he didn't know about. So I tried to make this one as anonymous as possible, with no links or references to the old one, and thought that would be that.

So how should one feel when the ex mentioned has shown that he is actually reading this blog, by leaving a comment on one of the posts?

a) Indifferent. It's been a long time, so what does it matter?
b) Happy. Oh, so great to hear from you!
c) Incredibly annoyed. LKSDFLKJSDFLSDlkjslf#$#ljsdfk! [head explodes]

I guess I need a mop to clean up my head.

More back story is probably needed, but it is just frustrating after making such efforts to move on with my life, only to once again have another reminder of a time in my life when I wasn't particularly happy.

Call me crazy.

Sigh.

We named the kitty Dexter. Yes, after the donut-loving serial killer. And I am so in love with Dexter. Dexter the cat, that is. I have gone kitty crazy. I go to work and talk to the other Cat People about things, like "oh, look at the hole in my stocking, Dex did that this morning. Ha ha! Yes, I look like a homeless person! Ha ha. Oh, cats. Cats? Yes, cats cats. Cats." He keeps me awake half the night by pouncing on my head, chewing on my hair and licking my eyelids but I am still giddy and swoony over him. He has shat horrible cat diarrhoea all over our bed, but he just looks up at me and meows and all is forgiven. I arrive home from work and he starts purring like a car engine and it is just lovely.

This weekend I am finally buying the new video camera I've been planning on getting for yonks, so expect gratuitous cat photos and video shortly. Yes, it's my blog and I can act deranged if I want to.

</obsessive cat lady talk>

In other news, the rumours turned out to be true and two jobs have been advertised. I applied on the weekend and am trying not to get my hopes up this time. Even if the Manager of the area sent me an e-mail making sure that I knew that the jobs were there. Must not think about it. Must. Not.

Have a fairly busy weekend planned, with work drinks tomorrow night (the work socialising is getting slightly mental of late), a high tea date with the laydeez (and one boy) on Saturday, and a possible visit to the Abbey Medieval Festival on Sunday. I thought it would be a great chance for me to test out the new camera, by filming the mock sword fights and jousts and whatnot, but apparently cameras are Strictly Forbidden. Maybe because they weren't invented in medieval times. Or maybe people dressed as noblemen and women who play with weapons and call each other "good sir" and "wench" don't want to be filmed. I think it would be hilariously awesome.*


Look at the program, they have Morris Dancing!!

This is a kitty. A mischevious little imp of a kitty. Despite not having a kitty since I was living at home in my teens, I have always been a Cat Lady. I display all the characteristics of a Cat Lady, I have just been lacking the cat. Well no more! Beardie and I have discussed it many a time and have always taken the sensible route, i.e. "What if we travel?" "What will the real estate say?" "We should wait until we buy our own house" etc. etc.

Apparently our brains simultaneously revolted with a "Sense be damned!" and we are now kittified.

Here is what the kitty did to me, about three seconds after picking it up for the first time. This is a sign of things to come.

Kitty currently goes by the name "Kitty", though any suggestions are welcome. With the names that we keep coming up with, he might be Kitty for quite a while.

Frubears. You can find Frubears in the health food/dried fruit bit of your supermarket. They are little bears that are made of dried apricot, dried peach and mysterious "fruit fibre". They are healthy and pretty tasty and having a couple is just lovely.

Eating an entire packet is NOT LOVELY.

Beardie and I had a movie date tonight to see Transformers 2 (Review: Fox is extremely hot, robots are pretty cool, movie was ok overall but not superawesomecool like the first one) and in an attempt to be healthy, I purchased some things to eat in place of the usual salty popcorn and choc top loveliness.

Frubears seemed like a great option due to the health factor, however I made the deadly mistake of forgetting all about the fibre content.

I JUST ATE 20 GRAMS OF DIETARY FIBRE IN 15 MINUTES.

Imagine if somebody cut open your stomach, dropped a large stone inside and sewed you back up. My digestive system is really pissed off with me.

I really shouldn't be making these kind of mistakes at this age.

I joined Twitter last week. I joined it so I could follow Peter Serafinowicz, with no intent of ever using it, and then while I was out drinking with workfolk the discussion moved to Twitter, and I started using it.

(Also, have arrived home to discover that Miss Audrey Apple has already posted a similar (though much better worded) confession. Quite freaky.)

I am not game enough to link it, because it is all Real Name-ish, and Real Photo-ish, and for the first time ever I am doing something on the internet without my anonymity to back me up. Can you believe it!

But, this post is supposed to be small, because all I'm saying is that I joined it, and am therefore officially NOT the last person on the bandwagon, for once in my life.

Or maybe I am.

Either way, you are permitted to punch me in the face now.

Bleurgh. What a weekend!

Grade 7 Poetry:

Ode to a Little Green Shitbox

With your crumply front plate
And your unroadworthy state
I was ripped off when I bought you

But your smells and your squeals
And your crooked front wheels
Meant that slowly, I came to adore you

Then I bought a new car
Which was better, by far
For economics, I had to sell you

I put you up on Carsales
Excluding some minor details
Within a day it was time to farewell you

Now I see and hear you around
(I know your unique clicking sound)
And your new ginger owner dotes on you

And while I am cashed up and glad
My heart feels a bit sad
For my Little Green Shitbox; I loved you

Sniff.

And briefly:

• I turned 26 on Wednesday. Beardie and I both had the day off work and went shopping, followed by a big mother of a steak. I am all about the steak lately. 26 seems to be going ok. I am in my late twenties. Apparently I am lover of steak in my late twenties. All is well.

• I organised a night of bowling for my team on Friday night, which was super fun, though every time I stay out for drinks with work people I regret it. I mostly regret all the shit that I spout which is really not making that great an impression when you have to go back to work and be in charge of these people. BUT THEN, I also went out last night for an engagement party. Plus, we had an enormous dinner beforehand (including a rocky road sundae, which we completely inhaled in seconds, much to the disgust of the other patrons and amazement of the waitress). So basically I am feeling seedy and porky today and as a result am going to detox this week.

• There's some whispers on the job front that could see me putting in an application for the department that brutally rejected me the last time. The only difference between now and then is that next month I am going on an awesome training course which will actually give me some of the skills that they were asking for the last time I applied. They are only rumours at this stage, but I still get a little excited skippety-skip in my tummy.

What's the best thing to do when you are seedy and porky? Clean the house from top to bottom for an inspection this week. Fricking awesome. Hope you've had a good weekend, lovely people.

I have come to a realisation. Nobody can read my face. My face is unreadable. I often find myself in scenarios like the following:

[Scene: a management meeting, Director present, discussing boring crap about boring work and the like]

Manager: Well what I would like to propose is [insert proposal here]
Me: [listening, however thinking dreamily about having leftover Mum's Stew for lunch]
Manager: Oh, well just look at RAT's face, she doesn't like it!

[All turn to look at me]

Me: Oh, um, not at all?

[Conversation continues]

Manager: So I guess the main idea is [insert main idea here]
Me: [listening, however contemplating how many pieces of Hubba Bubba are required to blow a bubble the size of my torso]
Manager: Look at RAT's face, she obviously has something to say about that!

And so on. The most common one is receiving comments that I look as though I don't like something, when in fact I do actually like it, or don't really care about it much, but am definitely not opposed to it. Maybe I just have a disagreeable face and look like a miserable git all of the time? Very possible.

Maybe this is to do with turning 26 next week? And my rapidly ageing face is handing out mixed messages to everyone?

Also very possible.

Well I guess it is better than everyone and their mother being able to work out exactly what I'm thinking just by looking at me. Yes? Hmm.

For people who enjoy the full use of their arms, shoulders and upper back, might I suggest that you do not go canoeing for seven hours? Just a tip.

Alas, I am only able to give myself this tip in retrospect.

OW.

Cue mental imagery of Beardie and I lazily paddling along a calm, clear lake, with the sun shining and birds twittering. Then replace it with me screeching "go RIGHT, go RIGHT!!!" and us drifting head-first into an overhanging tree. And the lake was brown, but most likely from tannin and not actually from poo (as I kept claiming), and there were definitely birds about but they were vastly outnumbered by the mosquitoes. By about twenty billion to one.

Our party also ended up lost at one point, and frantically trying to escape from a rapidly dwindling inlet before we ended up completely bogged.

However! I did not fall out, or capsize the boat, or even get wet a little bit. In fact I did more damage to myself at lunch by dropping tuna all over my pants, and therefore smelling delightful for the rest of the day.

It was actually pretty good fun, with good company and lovely scenery and all of that. And the pain isn't too bad this morning, though Beardie tells me that it might be that kind of deeply burrowed muscular pain that will come out the day after the day after.

Other ridiculous things I have signed myself up for:

• My piano teacher, who is as quiet as a mouse (I am a very quiet person, and she makes me seem like a big, loudmouthed git), asked me if I wanted to participate in an upcoming concert that they were holding. Given that the rest of the participants were aged 10 and under, I declined, not wanting to be the only Giant Person on stage. She said that they were considering having a concert just for their adult students and would I like to participate in that one instead? I said that if she gives me plenty of notice, I would do it. That's right. Performing on a stage. In front of strangers. This is only just an idea at this stage and I already need a change of underwear.
  
  
• Beardie suggested that we partake in the Bridge to Brisbane Fun Run this year, and because I want one of those t-shirts that says "I completed Bridge to Brisbane", I said yes. Then I realised what I had just done, and said "ah, shit." It coincides pretty well with the running program that we're doing and I figure we can always just walk/hobble/crawl along if we need to. And can I just point out that the idea of me EVER partaking in something like this is just freaking crazy; I never thought I would. It's got to be a good thing, I guess.
  
  
• We've accepted an invite to go a popular American-style restaurant which is famous for house-sized portions of ribs, wings, pork belly and other meals primarily based around gigantic slabs of meat. As somebody who has always been a small eater, and a lover of all things vegetable, I am already quite frightened by this concept. They don't have a menu online so I can't even make a plan beforehand and can foresee an evening of clutching my stomach, my pants exploding, groaning with a trail of hickory-smoked, porky BBQ sauce running down my chin.
  

Today I have a whole range of crappy girly movies to watch (as Beardie is working, I am sparing him the pain best time of his life) and I will probably try and finish reading The English Patient. For those indulging in public holiday awesomeness today, I hope you have a shiny, tip top day.