sunday funday day before monday

Holy oversleeping, batman. There I was yesterday morning, luxuriating in bed as much as one can with a midget (no I have NOT got back with Daniel's father, hardiharhar, I slay me)(not particularly funny but that was a warm up, it's been a slow day) burrowing into your side announcing "muggah muggah" (which to the uninitiated, is a booger. Dude had excavated his nose and needed me to removed the evidence which, eww) . Anyway, I was being all mother earth sister moon and judging by the light, thinking it must be around 8am when ohmyheck, it was freakin' 9.24. So much for being in touch with Mother Nature, so I didn't make it to the gym as planned. Bleah. For I yam such a sloth, mostly because I stay up until ridiculous-a-clock every night - and I think I do that because after a day of being on call and in demand, that late night business watching dvd after dvd and having all kinds of irresponsible fun is like gold. So yes, overslept and did not make it out the door by the 10.30am I need to leave by to get to the gym and have a work out before the creche closed at noon.

For I am so interesting.

Which reminds me, my god, at the gym? The number of lardass men who strut around in their FOOTBALL SHORTS OH THE HUMANITY thinking they look like hot shit because they can lift a weight is ridiculous. Also, a little nauseous making.

I'm a little distracted too, as Daniel is, after spending the morning destroying the house and my sanity, is in his cot rambling away. It's making me twitch because I want him to sleeeep, go to sleeep - and ha ha, he's just turned on the sleep making music. WORK! PLEASE WORK! It's not working. It sounds like he's dismantling it.

Meanwhile, my blood sugar needs some serious uplifting because I think I'm about to drop kick him to China. Am feeling titchy, is what I'm saying.

*slugs on wine bottle*

I've not had time to eat and be done with the titch as a friend has only just left after dropping round a SHIT LOAD of carnival crap. I'd given her some tickets to go last Saturday and she brought back a whole bunch of sherbet for Daniel and I to...well, given the sugar rush it promises, fly high on, and a whole bunch of chocolate too. Also, a flashing blue light. AWESOME!! Can't wait to get fried and watch that. Anyway, the tickets had been given to me by my neighbour so she bought him a bunch of loot too, and right now, my front room is housing about a ton of assorted and sugar loaded, craze inducing, tooth rotting foodstuffs. I tell you though, I couldn't give those damn tickets away and it took me until Friday afternoon to find someone willing to spend the two hundred bucks you spend after you save the thirty six bucks entry fee. But she had fun and she brought me loads of chocolate. The end.

Speaking of Saturdays, no sleep in for me last week, no ho ho. Not with two (two!) aqua classes booked back to back. What a fucking relief that was too because, like a fool, I'd lost my cell phone's handsfree thingywhatsit the Monday prior. Daniel and I were caught in a deluge of rain bucketing down seconds after we'd left the supermarket, and as I was scrambling to get the rain cover over him and cramming the pile o' crap I conveniently store in the sun shadey thing on top of the stroller (including the damn handsfree) elsewhere so I could get the stupid cover to fit over the shadey thing, and I must have crammed the handsfree onto the sidewalk or something equally as convenient. Meanwhile, I got SATURATED, the boy got a really cool ride in his domed shelter, and I lost my ability to not break the law while driving. Point being, I needed to replace that fucking thing and those two classes meant forty five buckeronies in CASH, baby, which was good thing as I only had forty bucks to last me until the following Thursday, and I needed to replace that which I had lost.

My priorities suck, don't they? Let's weigh it up: hands free versus food on the table. Now ask me how many dollars I had left minutes after leaving the cell phone store. (hint: the number starts with a z)

ANYWAY

The two classes went great, though while teaching all the participants had frowns on their faces and looked really unhappy. It's only when each class was over when droves of them ambushed me and told me how GREAT the class was that I realised, for the fifty billionth time you'd think I'd learn, good grief, the sour faces were because they're working so hard and LOVING it.

Being a guest presenter (ha ha) rocks because you're always New! and Interesting! and even if you DID suck, they'd love the variety anyway.

Sorting out baby sitting for that morning though, what fun. It's created a whole brand new kind of family feud which is wunderbach. Daniel ended up following my friend, a Greek mother who lives up the road from me (and who better than a Greek mother to mind your child? I should leave Daniel there til he's eighteen, he's guaranteed to be well kept and delightfully fed while I sit back and file my nails) all morning while she watched him in between doing all her Saturday morning Greek mother stuff like cleaning and cleaning and cleaning with a bit of cooking thrown in. She's five or six or twenty eight years older than me, I can never remember. Probably because once upon a billion years ago when her son was turning twenty one, her then eighteen year old daughter and (a then thirty two? thirty three? year old) I went shopping with to buy The Dress for the all out, money burning festival that is a Greek twenty first birthday party, and she told me off for being juvenile. I, of course, blamed her daughter who in turn punched me in the arm so I pushed her off the seat, which brought us rful circle and right back to the "behave yourself!!" statement that has me wondering if it really is only a few years between us.

ANYWAY

We're great friends and I KNOW she loves to mind Daniel but because I am guilt ridden fool, I feel like I'm imposing, even if it's to mind my gorgeous and divine child and even if said minder says OH MY GOD THANK YOU FOR ASKING I'D LOVE TO.

So since that weekend TWO WEEKS AGO, I've been feeling guilty for the stupid bust up with my sister in law and for imposing upon my friend while I worked to pay for a handsfree I can't really afford anyway.

In other spendy news, I got some slutty black nail polish the other day for only two bucks and I LOVE IT. My toes love it too, and feel quite trashy and cheap. See?

witness the ho' toes

DIG ITS BLACKNESS! So goth, but alas, also le sigh. I had such pretty fairy feet once upon a baby ago, but pregnancy turned them into something akin to pork roasts hanging around on the end of my legs. Also, and I'm not sure if you noticed but oh my god, my legs are the wrong way around. HAHA! Check out too, the half empty wine bottle on the counter. SPRUNG.

Speaking of reasons why I drink, he went for a six on last Friday night as we were leaving childcare. Microdermabraded his little button nose right off and oh my, he looked like Rudolph for....about a day.

One nose, over easy. Also, a deek-ha!

He's a lot better now, though he keeps pretend washing his face and making it a little worse for wear. Look at that face though, oh, and dig the "deek-ha!" (sticker, to the uninitiated) on his forehead. It took two showers and a good going over with a skanky old, my god they ALL need work, acrylic nail to scrape it off.

Acrylic nails suck, man. I've got to call NailGirl2 to see if she can do my awfulawfuloohyuck nails as soon as freakin' possible. NailGirl1, who I thought was wonderful, wasn't. She did one wicked good set on a friend of mine that must have been the only good set in her life, because that same friend wasn't impressed with her second set, except her first set was the reason why I went down Acrylic Road in the first place.

What?

ANYWAY, my nails look appalling and need fixing. Must call for help, stat.

Speaking of more reasons why I drink money which, how crass. Which, with my potty mouth, should be my middle name. Anyway, ebay. I'm currently stoked because I recently sold a stroller I'd bought last year for $129 and used once. And I sold it for $122.50! I also feel guilty, I don't know why, maybe because I'm an idiot. I mean, the buyer thought it was worth $122.50, who am I to argue? I'm such a tool though, as I always feel guilty when someone buys something. Anyone buys anything, actually. I'm killing me here, what with all the guilt.

I delivered that stroller direct to the buyer too, and she gave me ten bucks for my trouble, which it was not, actually, but wee! I had 132.50 spondoolies cooling their heels in my purse for...about five minutes, actually, what with all the other non essential, non food items I needed to buy. PRIORITIES! I'm all about them.

so ebay keeps me entertained and I Sell Things, but all scored lately is two things that don't fit. One is a tunic t shirty thing that's brand new but that makes me look like a transvestite, the second is a Bonds hoodie that is way too wide and the arms are too short for my baboon-esque ones. Gorgeous colour though and it will do for wearing at home. I did, however, score some major loot at the thrift store last week. It was, for me, Country Road week. I got a dress for $5.25, an awesome knit for $5.75, and a fantastic pair of shoes for $8.75. Leather upper and lining, brand new and only a squeak too big. The dress and knit I'll likely sell on ebay. The dress almost fits and is GORGEOUS, and is a plain, spaghetti strapped slip dress of khaki wispy fairy material with sequins running down it like rain drops. It sounds like whore wear, what with the mention of sequins but it really is quite classy. If I gained a few rolls it'd probably fit but as my social calender doesn't require anything more than dirty trackpants and baggy tshirts, I'm all about selling it, because I'm all about the money, baby. Yes I am. The shoes I could've sold too, especially as they're maybe a half size too big, but they're used now anyway because I had that job interview and because the internet needs to see more of my feet:

ignore the kid, CHECK OUT MY LOAFERS!

It's a hobby of mine, to go to the thrift store to find stuff to sell on ebay. Really though, I should save my money and instead, systematically go though the pile of SHIT clogging up my spare room. I mean, the quality items I keep on hand to sell to the monied masses. Yes. I'd love to stay at home and pad my income with clearing that shit out, but a lot of your ebay profits goes elsewhere, around 30%, is my estimate, unless you're selling big ticket items. I've started putting all sales into an account that pays for all purchased-to-sell items and ebay fees (and yet, I still use my other daily account for postage so each sale gets an extra few bucks injected into the bank account deposit because I forgot about managing it properly, duh )(and despite the hinky accounting fuckups, don't I sound like quite the mogul?) and since July 1st, because I am at least that organised, I've only made a little over a hundred bucks and I've sold around thirty(?) items. The stuff I buy from the salvos I usually make a good profit on too, because unless I know it's going to sell for sure, like Adidas track pants for example, I only buy what is on a half price ticket and generally the most I'll pay is, say, five bucks if I think I can sell it for ten.

Which reminds me, I got a great pair of bootleg Adidas leggings the other week, and I kept them instead of selling them. I reckon I'll sell them though because I Love Money and Adidas gear usually gets a massive sale price. Once I sold a pair I'd bought for around five bucks, for a little over sixty. Of course, the guilt, oh how it pained me, so I kept obsessively reading and rereading my description to see how I could have led the winning bidder up the garden path with bullshit declarations of "gold lined, diamond encrusted!" or something. She emailed me when she received them and said "LOVE", so I felt a little better than, and realised (and promptly forgot) that an item is worth what a buyer is prepared to pay for it. Deep, huh? And a good analogy on life. Maybe. Which reminds me, I have no idea why because that last sentence was not really a remindy type one, there's the Nike velour track pants I must sell too. Yes, must list, no keep. Booyah!

If anyone is still awake, god help me, and in other news, my hayfever of late is APPALLING. I took a zyrtec last night so it's a little better today. It feels like I need another already though, except those things are Once A Day jobbies and I may die if I over do it. UNFAIR. I sound like I have the black plague, what with all the coughing up a lung I'm been doing (Over here! Lungs to spare!) but I'm not sick and I'm not contagious, but I have been avoiding the communal spaces because dayum, I sound like I should be in quarantine. I also sound very sexy when I'm not gasping for air or coughing up said lungs. I tell you, I'm a secret weapon right now, against....I'm not sure where that was going. A secret weapon for......something.

Point being, I am a complaining pile of sputtering and snortdom, and thanks to ye olde bahstards that shall be named "Pollen", I also look old and tired. ROCK!