Monthly Archives: February 2006

Some things that have been happening lately presented in bullet point format, so I do not have to think about making shit flow and thus use more brain power than I can sustain at the present time…

• Succumbed to yet another throat/chest infection, spent a few days in bed trying to keep my temperature under 40 and eating far too much pudding, at one point I thought the cat was a tiger that was going to eat me. Fevers are fun kids.
• The boyfriend is trying to convince me to help him in his quest to make cheese flavoured water available to the public. I simply sigh, remind him that no one would want cheese flavoured water, and call him a dork (in the most loving way of course) for even contemplating it. He then retorts by ranting about how rich cheese flavoured water will make us.
• Have yet to order a copy of Company (it’s author Max Barry emailed me last year to say he enjoyed reading my blog so much that he felt it would interfere with Company’s deadline) due to having to pay medical bills, at one point tried to convince self that Company was a much more important investment because said book would cause laughter and then all would be good in Kittaville, then came to senses and re-read Fight Club while mumbling something incoherent about shipping costs.
• Am terribly behind in email due to two parts illness and one part can’t be fuckedness.
• Still working on re-design, should be done soon (said the girl who started the re-design a year ago.)
• Contemplating dying hair blonde (well, more like light brown with an array of blonde highlights), it may be the fever talking or the fact that three days of day time TV has bored me to the core of my soul, but I think I would look cute as a blonde. I’ve been everything else.
• Never watch Dawn of the Dead with a fever, it will fuck you up for life.

“Oh BOY are you stoned, Paul thought, and giggled faintly. Three nights ago, when he was sure she was upstairs, he had sneaked one of the sample boxes out and had read everything on the label, although he supposed he had read everything he needed when he saw what Novril’s principal ingredient was. “All right! I think that just might be a little closer to the truth.” He looked up, startled out of the story’s deep dream Geoffrey — who had turned out to be very much the hero of this one — had just come face to face with the hideous queen bee, whom he would have to battle to the death for Misery’s life.”

Spam is so damn insightful; it’s like Drucilla from Buffy.

And yes, this is a lame attempt at a blog entry, but give me a break, I spent the last few days helping someone move, during which time I have been called ‘mental’ and ‘vague’, and had various things that belong to me taken from me against my will. I am a tad blah at the moment, with a bit of sweepy and sore thrown in for good measure. Now if you don’t mind I am going to go soak in a bath, rid my mind of any box related thoughts, and then sleep for a week or two.

Matt (the boyfriend): Holy crap! There was some really weird noise just then…
Kitta: What did it sound like?
Matt: Kinda like someone falling onto the driveway.
Kitta: Ok…
Matt: Hey, I said it was a weird noise.
Kitta: Did someone fall onto your drive way?
Matt: Not that I can see.
Kitta: Might be raining zombies outside.
Matt: Maybe… You will still loves me if I get mauled and become a zombie right?
Kitta: Sure, so long as you don’t try and eat my brains.

Happy valentines day everyone, let that special someone know you love them by promising not to eat their brains.

I am not the girl you give a present to and ask kindly not to open it until a certain day.

I am the girl that on a warm sunny day a week before Christmas 1998 sat under the tree contemplating what was inside each of my carefully wrapped presents. I measured them, shook them ever so gently, and then thought about the likelihood of each present matching up to something from my wish list. After all the results were tallied and the bar graphs were finalised I decided to open the presents – for statistical purposes of course – I carefully peeled the sticky tape off the delicate wrapping paper and then took a peak inside each present and wrote down the results. I then wrapped them back up with sticky tape of the same proportions and placed them back under the tree in correspondence to the present map I drew earlier to avoid being caught and sent to present openers jail. I would make a fantastic secret present agent.

So when my boyfriend gave me my Valentines Day gift yesterday with strict instructions not to open it or shake it, I was worried that the secret present agent in me would come out again. So far it hasn’t, but we still have a few days to go and I could crack at any time. He should have given me contract to sign, stating terms and conditions of the present opening and punishment if those terms and conditions were broken.

Here I sit, contemplating what it could be, driving myself nearly insane and wishing I had laser eye so I could burn the wrapping paper and then be all “It was on fire, I had to un-wrap it to save the present, I am a hero.” I dare not shake it. He’s the kid of guy to implement hidden sensors attached to the wrapping paper and a SWAT team ready to deploy if I shake it too violently. So I poke it. He didn’t mention anything about not poking it.

I even rang my sort of psychic aunt to ask her thoughts on the present. She just said “Oooerrr love is in the air” and gave me no clue as to what I could be. Then I asked my mother her thoughts, who said just to open it, she wouldn’t tell a soul, hell, she will even open it for me! Clearly she was once a secret present agent too. I can just see her with the Farrah Fawcett hair do and hip sticky tape dispenser at the ready.

My bar graphs tell me that there is a 73% chance it’s jewellery, and my psychic advisor will get back to me if she has a dream about it.

Matt and I procrastinate washing our gay teenage clothes…

Matt: Washing sucks, I have so much to do, but I have to do it if I want to wear clothes this weekend, ice skating naked at ‘cockburn’ arena probably isn’t the best idea.
Kitta: I have to wash clothes too, I’m putting it off though, my theory is they might get fed up and wash themselves. I think of my clothes as teenage girls.
Matt: You see I tried that, obviously my clothes are teenage guys because they don’t care if they sit around dirty and smelly.
Kitta: Hopefully your clothes will get girlfriends that will wash them.
Matt: I dunno, didn’t happen for me.
Kitta: Maybe they’re gay…
Matt: Stop picking on my clothes!
Kitta: There’s nothing wrong with it, in fact I think I have a top that’s bisexual.
Matt: How do you know she’s bisexual?
Kitta: She always wants to hang out with my underwear.

If there is one thing I excel at in life, it is making brownies, no one I know makes brownies like I make brownies. So much so that they have been nicknamed ‘Kick Ass Brownies’, the nickname was given to them when a friend tried them for the first time and I asked them what they thought, their reply was simply “kick ass”. They are also known as ‘Marry Me Brownies’, due to the fact that when someone eats one the first words out of their mouth is normally “marry me Kitta”, to which I always reply “you just want me for my brownies”.

Today I learnt the shocking truth that one of my so-called brownie lovers has been cheating on me behind my apron tied back, he has been eating another womans brownies!

Noodlez: I am sorry to say, but I can’t marry you anymore.
Kitta: Aww.
Noodlez: Bec makes even better brownies.
Kitta: OMG that bitch!
Kitta: I am shocked!
Kitta: I…
Noodlez: Ha ha.
Kitta: You brownie cheater!
Kitta: You could have said “I think I need to eat other peoples brownies”, but no, instead you went behind my back and ate her brownies!
Noodlez: Hey! You kept saying no, so I went and found someone else.
Noodlez: Someone who would accept me for my brownie loving ways.

I had to end the conversation there, I was shocked and appalled, and his betrayal has left me feeling heartbroken and unloved. It’s as if he stabbed me in the heart with the chocolate covered knife I use to cut said brownies that he once claimed as his beloved. He brownie cheated on me, with her, the she-devil brownie making minx!

One day she will stop making him the brownies that he loves so dearly, and then he will come crawling back to me, begging and pleading for me to make him some brownies like I once did. But I won’t make them for him, I won’t let him eat a crumb or even lick the spoon, oh no, I have learnt a cruel lesson today that I will remember until the day I die. I will tell him to go find his brownies elsewhere, and he will end up in Thailand with a young girl that charges by the hour, uses unsanitary cooking implements and says “me bake for you long time”.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go jump off a very high building, the rejection is just too much to bear, and I can no longer live in a world where my brownies are no longer kick ass. 😦