Monthly Archives: April 2004

Newness

You’ve probably noticed I’ve made quite a few changes here lately, they were mainly things that I’ve been meaning to do for some time now, and they include:

  • ‘Colophon’ section updated.
  • ‘Linkies’ side blog section (which you might have already noticed).
  • More photo galleries in the ‘photos’ section, featuring the evil cat and Harry, the dog that likes to eat cat food, can open doors and is scared of thunder.
  • New ‘site’ section, full of sitey goodness (well, more like full of copyright, syndication and other details).
  • Sidebar updated (moved things around, deleted others).

If you see any spelling mistakes let me know, because I did most of it late at night and there’s bound to be a few.

One boring sunday

Have you ever read the side of a deodorant can?

The part where it warns you against puncturing the can or exposing it to heat? Well, one boring Sunday afternoon during the boring July school holidays of 1998 my brother, a few friends and I read the side of a can and decided to test the warning.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

We took the can into the garage, placed it down on the floor and one of my brother’s friends started to light a fire beneath it. This lasted for about 20 minutes. It seemed that the can was quite heat resistant. At this point someone spotted our small boat and decided to use some of its fuel to boost the small fire into a much bigger fire. Fuel was placed upon the can and nothing happened. Hmm. More fuel? Of course! After 5 more minutes of applying fuel nothing was happening, we were bored again and out of matches. “There’s more in the house” I said, and ran to the house to find some more matches. As I was looking around the house I heard a large bang, my eyes widened, I knew exactly what that bang meant. It meant the can wasn’t lying and it was also a much louder bang than expected. Oh shit.

I ran to the garage and stopped at the door, smoke poured out and a light flickered. I saw a figure walking towards me, eyed wide open and jaw dropped, not unlike my own expression. Light fixtures were hanging off the roof, everything had fallen of the shelves and there was a black mark on the floor where the can once lay. There were no remains of the can at all. I asked if everyone was alive and didn’t have any can embedded in their kidneys, they were freaked out, but fine. After 5 minutes of silence we finally realised two things:

  1. We trashed the garage and the neighbours had probably rung the cops.
  2. It was nearly 4pm. My mother was due home around 4pm.

We sprung into action. Smoke was cleared out of the garage, mats were placed over the black area on the floor, lighting fixtures were fixed and everything was put back into place. The only thing that could not be corrected was our fear. Thankfully, the neighbours were out, so no police showed up.

We stood in front of the garage doors, finally laughing about the event, when someone noticed that the doors to the garage were not right. Not right, meaning they had come off their railing. Laughter turned into fear, fear into panic and panic into name calling. We tried pushing them back onto the railing, but the doors were too heavy to lift. Just then the Motherships car pulled into the drive way. Act normal everyone.

We stood in front of the doors, trying to look normal, and probably looking like scared little bunnies. My mother noticed something was up, but had household shopping to contend with. We needed a story. We decided to tell her that my brother ‘fell’ onto the doors, it was the best story we could come up with at the time. Amazingly, she bought it. My father on the other hand, didn’t buy it, but due to my parents being freshly divorced it didn’t bother him. He fixed the doors and we spent weeks wondering if they knew what really happened. After a month we rejoiced silently and told all our other friends about it.

A few years went by and one day I decided to tell my father about it for a laugh. He said he knew something was up, but never thought it would be something that ridiculous. I told my mother soon after my father and she laughed about it. Which is strange. If we had told her straight after it happened she would have made us write 500 pages of lines saying “I will never blow up a deodorant can again” (my parents never grounded, the were lines kind of people), but give it a few years and it’s a funny story to tell at Christmas.

We learnt an important lesson on that boring Sunday afternoon: never doubt the warnings on sides of cans, they do not lie, and they really will explode after about 30 minutes of intense heat.

Super cool new toy

For those of you that don’t know, I’m currently making a ton of jewellery to sell at parties, fete’s and craft shows later this year. I’m about half way there amount wise, but the question of what to present the jewellery on was bought up a few weeks back. Friends suggested I buy a simple pin board, but where’s the fun in that? So today, I went out and bought supplies to make my own boards. Wood, material, padding, pins a staple gun (which is my super cool new toy) was purchased.

The building of the board was pretty easy. Saw the wood in half, and then staple the padding and material on. Place pins on and drum roll please…

Mmm, boardness

I now have a fancy board to present my jewellery on.

I think my favourite part of it all was the warning list that came with the staple gun:

  • Only well instructed adults should operate this tool (Sorry Tay, you can’t play with it).
  • Do not operate tool when under the influence of alcohol, drugs or medication (I.e. Hide tool for most of my friends when they come over).
  • Do not use when tired or in a hurry (Aww, I so wanted to do some 3am stapling).
  • Never point tool at anyone (Even that dude that pisses me off?).
  • Never let any little red monkeys near this tool, ever! Serious damage and hurt could be caused (Ok, so it didn’t say that, but I think it should have).

I was totally planning to do ALL of the above and now my fun is ruined, ruined I tell you!

Page 18, line 4

Via gigglechick.

  • 1. Grab the nearest book.
  • 2. Open the book to page 18.
  • 3. Find line 4.
  • 4. Write down what it says.

The first book I grabbed was Wil Wheaton’s ‘Dancing Barefoot’, but he clearly had a plan in place to mess with the page 18 line 4 fun. There’s a picture on page 18! WIL FUCKING WHEATON.

So I grabbed the next book, ‘Angelina Jolie’s Journals’ and turned to page 18…

“We started up the road and ran into George.”

Web-ookies

I made some cookies today but they’re not normal cookies, oh no, they’re web-ookies. “What the hell are web-ookies?” I hear you ask. Well, they are cookies with your favourite websites on them. Mmm, cookies and the web finally joined together as one.

Had to make one for the Shiny plastic bag crew.

Shinyplasticbag.com

Little yellow different looks so cool in edible gel.

Littleyellowdifferent.com

Couldn’t leave Taylor out of the cookie fun.

Gtmcknight.com

If I get enough requests for the recipe, I’ll post it later, but it’s just a normal sugar cookie with some gel pen decorating. So feel free to break out the basic ingredients and make a set of your own web-ookies.

Now, if only I have red gel I could do a little red monkey. 😉

My Inner Voice

I was given an Easter card this morning from my grandmother. It was a pretty little card, with bunny rabbits and eggs on the front. After about a minute or so I said “I don’t get Easter cards”, and the moment I said it the voice inside my head started to scream “WTF are you doing, she just gave you a card and you bagging it? Think quick you wanker”.

Nikita: “I mean, why have a card for it?”
Nikita’s inner voice: “That wasn’t very, good try again”
Nikita: “It’s just they have cards for everything these days!”
Nikita’s inner voice: “Do they have one that an inner voice would give to someone that won’t be quiet?”

My mother gives me a look, a look which my inner voice would probably also give me if it could, a “shut the hell up” look.

Nikita: “I saw a card a while back, it said ‘sorry to hear you got fired’, that was silly”
Nikita’s inner voice: “Would you like me to help you dig that hole you’re in?”
Nikita: “Yeah…”
Nikita’s inner voice: “I do hope that means you’re done”

I do this all the time. I’m known for saying daft things right after someone gives me something, it’s a sickness. At Christmas my Aunt and Uncle came over, they gave me a book and a nice pair of handmade earrings. They were simple earrings, so I started telling her how you easy it is to make them.

Nikita: “They’re really easy to make, just get the wire and some beads and crimps here and here”
Nikita’s inner voice: “Oh no, here you go again”
Nikita’s aunt: “Oh…”
Nikita: “Yeah, really simple”
Nikita’s inner voice: “I really do wish I had a stun gun in here to shut you up at times like this”
Nikita’s aunt: “Well, they’re still a nice pair of earrings”
Nikita’s inner voice: “She thinks you hate them, say you love them, that you’d sell your soul for them”
Nikita: “Oh yes, they are”
Nikita’s inner voice: “I think it’s best to just shut up now and change the subject”
Nikita: *mumbles* “Me too”

My McDonalds Milkshake

I was out shopping today, getting some basic things, when I overheard two young girls talking. They must have been between 8 and 10, but they liked to act like they were more 12 to 14, testing out the make up and acting older then they are. Kelis’s ‘Milkshake’ song was playing in the store, and they started a conversation about it’s meaning:

Young Girl #1: “Why would her milkshake bring all the boys to the yard?”

Young Girl #2: “Maybe it’s like a reallyyyyyy good milkshake.”

Young Girl #1: “Like a McDonalds milkshake?”

Young Girl #2: “Yeah, like a McDonalds milkshake.”

Sweet, pure, little, McDonald’s milkshake loving minds. I hope you never change.

Happy 50th Birthday Mum

It’s my mothers 50th birthday today. She’s not too happy with the whole ‘turning 50’ concept, but she is thrilled it’s her birthday, even if her present was a bit early.

About a week or so back I asked Ella if she would help me with ‘operation surprise mum with flowers’ for her 50th birthday (I am without credit card you see). Ella, being the fantastically cool person she is, said yes and became as excited as I was. We decided upon a two dozen rose assortment, a teddy bear and some amazingly yummy (so I’m told) chocolates from the Freo Chocolate Factory. Ella placed the order Saturday morning, and told them to deliver it on Monday the 5th (today) to mums workplace. I then tried to act normal around my mother every time she asked what I was getting her for her birthday.

Saturday afternoon my mother got a phone call from work. There was a package there for her and she really should come pick it up. When she told me, I had to smile and act surprised, but in the back of my mind I thought “oh shit, I hope they didn’t fuck up the delivery date”. She went to pick them up from work and the moment she brought them in the door I knew it was the package from my brother, Ella and me. Crap.

She was thrilled anyway. She’d never really had someone send her some flowers before. Then she noticed that the teddy had a yellow stain down its side, crap again, the flowers must have stained the teddy. She wasn’t really worried, and happily washed her teddy with a cloth and some stain remover. She did it quite lovingly actually, and now that I think of it, she probably hasn’t been given a teddy in years.

Later that night, she came to my door dressed in her PJ’s, with a cheeky smile on her face and hugging her new teddy. She didn’t look like someone about to turn 50, more like a 13 year old girl saying goodnight to her parents. It was so cute.

In a way it turned out well that the flowers came early. On Sunday she had some old friends over, she got to show off her flowers and share her chocolaty goodness with them.

Happy 50th Birthday Mum (And thanks Ella).

Two cops and me in a towel

It was a normal day in July, 2000. I had just woken up and I was walking to the bathroom when I noticed my brother jumping the fence. He’d forgotten his keys, again. I jumped in the shower and started to sing to as one does when showering. “Throw your arms around me” I hummed as I worked the shampoo into my hair and just as I was about to wash it out someone started knocking on the bathroom door. I was annoyed with my brother for this interruption. I grabbed a towel and loosely put it around myself, then flung open the door ready to yell (I mean talk loudly), at my brother when I saw something I didn’t expect.

Two young male police officers standing at my bathroom door.

I’m not too sure who was more shocked. Myself: The girl half naked in a towel with shampoo running down her face. Or them: The young police officers.

Officer #1: “Umm, sorry miss, we umm…”

Officer #2: “We had a report that someone was breaking in at this residence.”

Nikita: “Breaking in?”

Officer #2: “Yes, someone jumped the fence and the neighbours reported it.”

Nikita: “Oh, you mean my brother, he forgot his keys and jumped the fence.”

I try to re arrange my towel, it is slipping and I’m sure there’s some law against flashing an officer, even in your own home.

Officer #2: “Ok, so your safe then?”

Nikita: “Yeah, I’m fine.”

My brother walks into the kitchen, with a ‘why are you in a towel and talking to the police in our house’ look on his face, unaware he was the cause of it all. One of the officers points at him and I nod.

Officer #2: “Ok then miss, we’ll go now.”

Nikita: “Let my brother show you out, oh hang on, he needs the keys…”

Officer #2: “That’s ok, we’ll just jump back over the fence.”

They leave by jumping back over the fence and my brother and I stand in silence, trying to work things out. He shrugs and walks away. I make a face and go back to my shower. While washing the shampoo out of my hair I remembered something…

Where the hell was Harry, the fearsome guard dog that barks at people 5 houses away, during all this drama?

Fast asleep on the couch he was. He slept through the whole thing and I had to wake him and tell him off for not only sleeping on the couch, but also for not waking up when people jumped the fence. He replied with a snort as if to say ‘I knew they were cops, its cool’ and put his head back down on the couch.

It was no longer a normal day.