so anyway
this is my new car:
click, expand, etc
Yes it's a bad photo and my car coould be presented more appealingly with say, a naked woman draped on the bonnet and from an angle where you could actually see the damned thing (car and woman both) but please be noting the wet ground. It's raining like a motherfucker here and I wasn't about to ruin my 'do for your viewing pleasure. Also, yes, I know that I've joined the ranks of the fucking arrogant 4W drivers. I hate me too though, and now I hate everyone, because everyone hates me now because of the car I drive, so why not hate them back harder?
This was my old car:
click if you love Jesus!
I drive past it most days, not because I'm a yearning fool, but because the caryard where it is now isn't far from where I live, but it's okay. I've stopped crying about it now, mostly because I'm fickle and as much as I hate 4Wds, or probably because I hate them so much -which I really, really do, because they are stupid, big, fat idiot off road vehicles that are being driven (badly) on suburban streets, usually by stupid, big, fat, idiots, aka soccer mums *ahem* - I'm loving sticking it to their drivers in an if you can't beat them, join them-esque kind of way.
Also, in this bigger and taller car, I'm less stressed by the plague of morons commandeering the streets. Seems driving my other car was synonymous to suffering Short Man Syndrome (everyone, wave hello to the baby's father!) Seems driving a car waaaay lower that everyone else got to me, so there it is. I'm a cliche. Just so you know, that doesn't mean everyone else wasn't ever an idiot. They were. Still are even. It simply means that I don't have to tolerate them from a lesser height.
All in all, and despite feeling my heart was going to break when I sold my old one (so not normal, aibee) I'm liking this new car, and so is my cat:
click because you can!
How cute is Hollie? Hotdang, I love that little critter. What I do not love however, is her fur. On her it's acceptable, but on the everywhere else it is, not so much so. In fact, hate, okay? Hateyhate. Per essempio, I have this polar fleece (which as an aside, I want to be buried in, because polar fleece=cosy like a hug, thankyou) jacket that I keep well away from the cat, but last I looked, the damn jacket is still covered in her stupid fur, and all I did was take it out the wardrobe and whisk it in through the house at warp speed, so as not to spend time collecting random and floating cat hair, and into the car and onto another premises that is totally sans car frikkin' fur. So yes, it's everywhere. It's already in my new car forpetesake, and while she sits on it, Hollie has never been in it, so unless there's some hijinks I don't know about going on around here after hours, why the freaking fur!?? This freakout is not brought to you care of the nesting fairy, because I'm so not there yet. In fact, I can't see myself ever nesting (not that I'm not clean and tidy or anything, I'm just too tired to be OCD about it) but I do believe I may be suffering a nesting variant, one that only notices cat fur. The pity of it is, I really couldn't be fucked doing anything major about it. I mean, I could vaccuum everyday, but seeings as how I hate that bastard machine (so much so that I dumped it on its idiot head the other day when it was dumb enough to get itself tangled up in its own cord, GOD! and now the off button doesn't work), no. I do swiffer most days, but woe, tis not enough. I'm going to have to go with turning Hollie into a Brazilian cat....
About that wet ground in the first picture. We've had more rain this past week or so than we've had all winter. (for those of you playing along at home, it's spring here, not autumn)(why do you call autumn fall? Is it because the leaves fall down, in which case, why 'spring'? (are seasons written as pronouns or what?) If I was religiously inclined I'd be building myself a freakin' ark. I mean, it's so heavy that it comes down and you'll be all 'oh my gawd! That rain is SO heavy!', and then it doubles. This morning, we had hail the size of, I have no idea because I was inside the gym listening to it, but word in was that these hailstones were BIG. Which while we think BIG means BIG, it probably means 'pah, what hailstones?' somewhere else, but still, we're drowning here man. Seriously.
I had all these other things I was going to write about. Things like waking up in the middle of the night and freaking out because the Baby Has Not Moved In Days, so getting the electric toothbrush and jamming it on my belly before turning it on, plan being the buzzing will wake the baby up and it will kick or something, only to have it DO NOTHING! I swear, this kid is so laid back, if it's born with a remote control in one hand, and the TV guide in the other, I won't be surprised. I was also going to write about this journal thingy that I will not call a blog, because that woke me up in the middle of last night too. I used to write stuff here for me, then when I found out I was pregnant, I shared the address with people I thought would be interested. What I didn't expect was a big zero from so many, so now I wonder why I write at all. I write for me still, and also for those who read regularly and grace me with very appreciated feedback, but still, I feel a bit ridiculous, rambling on to like I do, when the people I thought would be interested, aren't. I mean, it's not so much that I love talking about me, it's more that this whole making a baby thing is so wonderful, it needs to be shared. That's the hardest part about going it alone, you know. Not having someone to share it with. I mean, I'm the kind of goober who will call a friend because The moon! It looks so beautiful tonight! (I did that once and got a wrong number, so rather than hang up, I told them about the moon, and the guy was all, I'm so glad you called, thankyou! What can I say? I just love spreading the joy)(maybe I should make random phone calls and ask the recipients about how much they love my baby?)(now there's a thought)
Oh, and I woke up in the middle of the night, not because I'm angry or anything, but because I feel kind of hurt really....a lot hurt actually, what with me being a delicate petal and all.....
On a related note, my whole family ('related'? 'family'? In one sentence? Is it only amusing to me?) knows I'm pregnant. That's my brother, his wife, my uncles, their wives and partners, my nanna and my mum, but apart from my mum, who is totally going off about this baby and is being a real peach (but that's another story, suffice to say for now, thankyou ma, for my new car)(poet! etc) not one of them has said anything about it. Not a one. What brand of fucked up is that? Oddly enough, I'm pleased, because it means I win! I was right all along! They're the shitheads here, not me, tra la!
Hey, look at that! I did write about those things after all! Go me!
click, expand, etc
Yes it's a bad photo and my car coould be presented more appealingly with say, a naked woman draped on the bonnet and from an angle where you could actually see the damned thing (car and woman both) but please be noting the wet ground. It's raining like a motherfucker here and I wasn't about to ruin my 'do for your viewing pleasure. Also, yes, I know that I've joined the ranks of the fucking arrogant 4W drivers. I hate me too though, and now I hate everyone, because everyone hates me now because of the car I drive, so why not hate them back harder?
This was my old car:
click if you love Jesus!
I drive past it most days, not because I'm a yearning fool, but because the caryard where it is now isn't far from where I live, but it's okay. I've stopped crying about it now, mostly because I'm fickle and as much as I hate 4Wds, or probably because I hate them so much -which I really, really do, because they are stupid, big, fat idiot off road vehicles that are being driven (badly) on suburban streets, usually by stupid, big, fat, idiots, aka soccer mums *ahem* - I'm loving sticking it to their drivers in an if you can't beat them, join them-esque kind of way.
Also, in this bigger and taller car, I'm less stressed by the plague of morons commandeering the streets. Seems driving my other car was synonymous to suffering Short Man Syndrome (everyone, wave hello to the baby's father!) Seems driving a car waaaay lower that everyone else got to me, so there it is. I'm a cliche. Just so you know, that doesn't mean everyone else wasn't ever an idiot. They were. Still are even. It simply means that I don't have to tolerate them from a lesser height.
All in all, and despite feeling my heart was going to break when I sold my old one (so not normal, aibee) I'm liking this new car, and so is my cat:
click because you can!
How cute is Hollie? Hotdang, I love that little critter. What I do not love however, is her fur. On her it's acceptable, but on the everywhere else it is, not so much so. In fact, hate, okay? Hateyhate. Per essempio, I have this polar fleece (which as an aside, I want to be buried in, because polar fleece=cosy like a hug, thankyou) jacket that I keep well away from the cat, but last I looked, the damn jacket is still covered in her stupid fur, and all I did was take it out the wardrobe and whisk it in through the house at warp speed, so as not to spend time collecting random and floating cat hair, and into the car and onto another premises that is totally sans car frikkin' fur. So yes, it's everywhere. It's already in my new car forpetesake, and while she sits on it, Hollie has never been in it, so unless there's some hijinks I don't know about going on around here after hours, why the freaking fur!?? This freakout is not brought to you care of the nesting fairy, because I'm so not there yet. In fact, I can't see myself ever nesting (not that I'm not clean and tidy or anything, I'm just too tired to be OCD about it) but I do believe I may be suffering a nesting variant, one that only notices cat fur. The pity of it is, I really couldn't be fucked doing anything major about it. I mean, I could vaccuum everyday, but seeings as how I hate that bastard machine (so much so that I dumped it on its idiot head the other day when it was dumb enough to get itself tangled up in its own cord, GOD! and now the off button doesn't work), no. I do swiffer most days, but woe, tis not enough. I'm going to have to go with turning Hollie into a Brazilian cat....
About that wet ground in the first picture. We've had more rain this past week or so than we've had all winter. (for those of you playing along at home, it's spring here, not autumn)(why do you call autumn fall? Is it because the leaves fall down, in which case, why 'spring'? (are seasons written as pronouns or what?) If I was religiously inclined I'd be building myself a freakin' ark. I mean, it's so heavy that it comes down and you'll be all 'oh my gawd! That rain is SO heavy!', and then it doubles. This morning, we had hail the size of, I have no idea because I was inside the gym listening to it, but word in was that these hailstones were BIG. Which while we think BIG means BIG, it probably means 'pah, what hailstones?' somewhere else, but still, we're drowning here man. Seriously.
I had all these other things I was going to write about. Things like waking up in the middle of the night and freaking out because the Baby Has Not Moved In Days, so getting the electric toothbrush and jamming it on my belly before turning it on, plan being the buzzing will wake the baby up and it will kick or something, only to have it DO NOTHING! I swear, this kid is so laid back, if it's born with a remote control in one hand, and the TV guide in the other, I won't be surprised. I was also going to write about this journal thingy that I will not call a blog, because that woke me up in the middle of last night too. I used to write stuff here for me, then when I found out I was pregnant, I shared the address with people I thought would be interested. What I didn't expect was a big zero from so many, so now I wonder why I write at all. I write for me still, and also for those who read regularly and grace me with very appreciated feedback, but still, I feel a bit ridiculous, rambling on to like I do, when the people I thought would be interested, aren't. I mean, it's not so much that I love talking about me, it's more that this whole making a baby thing is so wonderful, it needs to be shared. That's the hardest part about going it alone, you know. Not having someone to share it with. I mean, I'm the kind of goober who will call a friend because The moon! It looks so beautiful tonight! (I did that once and got a wrong number, so rather than hang up, I told them about the moon, and the guy was all, I'm so glad you called, thankyou! What can I say? I just love spreading the joy)(maybe I should make random phone calls and ask the recipients about how much they love my baby?)(now there's a thought)
Oh, and I woke up in the middle of the night, not because I'm angry or anything, but because I feel kind of hurt really....a lot hurt actually, what with me being a delicate petal and all.....
On a related note, my whole family ('related'? 'family'? In one sentence? Is it only amusing to me?) knows I'm pregnant. That's my brother, his wife, my uncles, their wives and partners, my nanna and my mum, but apart from my mum, who is totally going off about this baby and is being a real peach (but that's another story, suffice to say for now, thankyou ma, for my new car)(poet! etc) not one of them has said anything about it. Not a one. What brand of fucked up is that? Oddly enough, I'm pleased, because it means I win! I was right all along! They're the shitheads here, not me, tra la!
Hey, look at that! I did write about those things after all! Go me!
posted by aibee at 15:38
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