Yeah, I'm still hanging onto the belief that everyone does their most profound thinking while in the shower.
Anyway, today's thought:
I wonder if Wentworth Miller ever googles himself.
Gosh I hope so. Mainly because it increases the chance of him finding this blog, but also because there can't be too many people in the world lame enough to google themselves. Sometimes I think I might be the only one. But if Wentworth was one too...well, then it'd be pretty obvious that we're meant for each other.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
WARNING: High Caffeine Content
Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh.
Something wonderful has happened.
No, not wonderful. More wonderful than wonderful. What's more wonderful than wonderful? Terrific? Amazing? Magnificent? Fabulous? Disco Fabulous? Oh, yes, Disco Fabulous. I like that.
Where was I?
Oh. Oh! Yes.
Something Disco Fabulous has happened - my parents bought us an espresso machine.
Oh, my gosh, an espresso machine.
'Espresso Machine'. As in 'Machine That Makes Coffee'. I get that if you're a healthy non-coffee drinker, you probably won't care about this. But for an addict of caffeine in pretty much any form (and I mean real addict, I'll suck the dregs right out of a can of Red Bull any day of the week), this is - and I don't want to undersell this, so give me a moment to sort out my words...
...
THIS IS QUITE POSSIBLY THE BEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.
With the exception of this dream I once had about Wentworth and me getting married and having a mint chocolate chip flavoured icecream wedding cake, and then dancing our first dance to Midnight Train by Journey, and him being taller than me even though I was wearing my highest heels.
But apart from that.
THIS IS QUITE POSSIBLY THE BEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.
Do you know what this means? I can have coffee whenever I want, and however I want, and WHEREVER I want, thanks to this handy travel thermos mug I bought at the $2 shop underneath Coles today.
Dude. DUDE. I don't think I've ever been so excited - and not just because I came home to find the coffee machine at 2pm, and it's now 10 past midnight and I've had about 11 cups of coffee in that time.
11 cups of coffee baby! 11! Booyah! The hair is just about vibrating off my legs.
You know what though, it might actually be more than 11 - it's hard to count when you're having heart palpitations. Who knew you could get those from coffee? I sure didn't!
I named it of course. The espresso machine, I mean. I named it. Or her, I should say. She's Martha - after Martha Stewart, not Jodi Gordon's tortured character on Home and Away. My parents were confused as to why I didn't choose the name Wentworth. Sigh. Do they not understand anything? It went down like this:
Mum: You named it Martha?
Jacki: I named her Martha.
Dad: Why didn't you name it Wentworth?
Jacki: First of all, because she is a girl. And secondly, I can't name anything Wentworth, because then when Wentworth and I get married, it will be weird.
Right? And it WOULD be weird.
Anyway, speaking of my Dad...the way he reacted to Martha was probably one of the funniest things I have ever seen. He loves her. So much. I think too much. I think he loves her more than Catherine and I. She's like another daughter to him - a shiny, metal, noiseless daughter that cleans herself and dispenses coffee.
Huh.
No wonder he loves her more than Catherine and I.
Anyway, now I'm totally jacked up on caffeine, sitting here watching the Sex And The City Movie, and trying to decide what is more annoying: the fact that I've had the same Eminem song stuck in my head for the last 4 days, or Carrie Bradshaw wearing a pearl necklace to bed.
I think it's probably the pearl necklace thing. I mean, knowing a whole Eminem song off by heart might actually come in handy one day, like the next time I'm in a rap battle and can't think of any words. You never know, really. So thanks Eminem.
But wearing a pearl necklace to bed? That's just uncool.
On a completely different note, after watching Rove tonight, I've realised I might have a tiny crush on Bruno. Which seems kind of weird, since I'm not usually attracted to gay 3o-something-year-old Austrian fashion reporters with bleach blonde hair and waxed legs who wear jock straps on the outside of their jeans. Huh. Well, maybe it's just the coffee talking.
Something wonderful has happened.
No, not wonderful. More wonderful than wonderful. What's more wonderful than wonderful? Terrific? Amazing? Magnificent? Fabulous? Disco Fabulous? Oh, yes, Disco Fabulous. I like that.
Where was I?
Oh. Oh! Yes.
Something Disco Fabulous has happened - my parents bought us an espresso machine.
Oh, my gosh, an espresso machine.
'Espresso Machine'. As in 'Machine That Makes Coffee'. I get that if you're a healthy non-coffee drinker, you probably won't care about this. But for an addict of caffeine in pretty much any form (and I mean real addict, I'll suck the dregs right out of a can of Red Bull any day of the week), this is - and I don't want to undersell this, so give me a moment to sort out my words...
...
THIS IS QUITE POSSIBLY THE BEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.
With the exception of this dream I once had about Wentworth and me getting married and having a mint chocolate chip flavoured icecream wedding cake, and then dancing our first dance to Midnight Train by Journey, and him being taller than me even though I was wearing my highest heels.
But apart from that.
THIS IS QUITE POSSIBLY THE BEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.
Do you know what this means? I can have coffee whenever I want, and however I want, and WHEREVER I want, thanks to this handy travel thermos mug I bought at the $2 shop underneath Coles today.
Dude. DUDE. I don't think I've ever been so excited - and not just because I came home to find the coffee machine at 2pm, and it's now 10 past midnight and I've had about 11 cups of coffee in that time.
11 cups of coffee baby! 11! Booyah! The hair is just about vibrating off my legs.
You know what though, it might actually be more than 11 - it's hard to count when you're having heart palpitations. Who knew you could get those from coffee? I sure didn't!
I named it of course. The espresso machine, I mean. I named it. Or her, I should say. She's Martha - after Martha Stewart, not Jodi Gordon's tortured character on Home and Away. My parents were confused as to why I didn't choose the name Wentworth. Sigh. Do they not understand anything? It went down like this:
Mum: You named it Martha?
Jacki: I named her Martha.
Dad: Why didn't you name it Wentworth?
Jacki: First of all, because she is a girl. And secondly, I can't name anything Wentworth, because then when Wentworth and I get married, it will be weird.
Right? And it WOULD be weird.
Anyway, speaking of my Dad...the way he reacted to Martha was probably one of the funniest things I have ever seen. He loves her. So much. I think too much. I think he loves her more than Catherine and I. She's like another daughter to him - a shiny, metal, noiseless daughter that cleans herself and dispenses coffee.
Huh.
No wonder he loves her more than Catherine and I.
Anyway, now I'm totally jacked up on caffeine, sitting here watching the Sex And The City Movie, and trying to decide what is more annoying: the fact that I've had the same Eminem song stuck in my head for the last 4 days, or Carrie Bradshaw wearing a pearl necklace to bed.
I think it's probably the pearl necklace thing. I mean, knowing a whole Eminem song off by heart might actually come in handy one day, like the next time I'm in a rap battle and can't think of any words. You never know, really. So thanks Eminem.
But wearing a pearl necklace to bed? That's just uncool.
On a completely different note, after watching Rove tonight, I've realised I might have a tiny crush on Bruno. Which seems kind of weird, since I'm not usually attracted to gay 3o-something-year-old Austrian fashion reporters with bleach blonde hair and waxed legs who wear jock straps on the outside of their jeans. Huh. Well, maybe it's just the coffee talking.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
And just like that, it turned into a great day
Holy crap.
Holy crap.
Today might - might - have been the best day of my life.
...
No, alright. That's a bit of an exaggeration. Still, it was a good day. A great day. Not so surprising, considering it was a wednesday - and anyone who knows me KNOWS that my favourite day of the whole week is wednesday, mostly on account of the whole 'once-wednesday-is-over-its-pretty-much-the-end-of-the-week-so-you-can-start-living-in-weekend-mode-again' factor, but also because when Prison Break was still on, it always aired on a Wednesday night.
Yeah. You might have noticed I typed that last 'wednesday' with a capital W.
Wednesday night. That's how much I love Wednesdays - so much, I'm going to start typing them with capital W's.
ALL.
THE TIME.
Anyway, that's not important. Let me tell you why today was so good:
First of all, Mum took Catherine and I to pret-a-portea at The Park Hyatt. It's like high tea, but they have a fashion show during it. PLUS since its at The Hyatt, there's valet for the car.
Oh, my gosh.
Valet.
Do you have any idea how uplifting it is to have a hot guy in a suit open the car door for you?
Dude.
So as if that wasn't enough, then there was French champagne, mini pastries baked by a Parisian chef, and a fashion parade that can only be described as awesome - and not just because one of the models had a totally hilarious bobble-head walk. Although that was a large part of it.
Haha.
Anyway. So Wednesday had already shaped up to be pretty flippin' sweet, as far as days in the life of Jacki Trew go. Then guess what happened? I WON A $300 VOUCHER FOR THE CHRISTOPHER HANNA HAIR SALON.
$300!
$300?
Holy crap! I don't think all the haircuts I've ever had in my LIFE would add up to $300. Mostly because I learnt from Mel a long time ago how to cut it myself over the sink. But still.
So yeah. That's how this Wednesday became a great day. Oh, except there's one more thing: I just got home from babysitting and guess what's on TV?
PRISON BREAK!
Repeats yeah, but hey, I'll take whatever I can get.
Huh.
Maybe this is the best day ever.
Holy crap.
Today might - might - have been the best day of my life.
...
No, alright. That's a bit of an exaggeration. Still, it was a good day. A great day. Not so surprising, considering it was a wednesday - and anyone who knows me KNOWS that my favourite day of the whole week is wednesday, mostly on account of the whole 'once-wednesday-is-over-its-pretty-much-the-end-of-the-week-so-you-can-start-living-in-weekend-mode-again' factor, but also because when Prison Break was still on, it always aired on a Wednesday night.
Yeah. You might have noticed I typed that last 'wednesday' with a capital W.
Wednesday night. That's how much I love Wednesdays - so much, I'm going to start typing them with capital W's.
ALL.
THE TIME.
Anyway, that's not important. Let me tell you why today was so good:
First of all, Mum took Catherine and I to pret-a-portea at The Park Hyatt. It's like high tea, but they have a fashion show during it. PLUS since its at The Hyatt, there's valet for the car.
Oh, my gosh.
Valet.
Do you have any idea how uplifting it is to have a hot guy in a suit open the car door for you?
Dude.
So as if that wasn't enough, then there was French champagne, mini pastries baked by a Parisian chef, and a fashion parade that can only be described as awesome - and not just because one of the models had a totally hilarious bobble-head walk. Although that was a large part of it.
Haha.
Anyway. So Wednesday had already shaped up to be pretty flippin' sweet, as far as days in the life of Jacki Trew go. Then guess what happened? I WON A $300 VOUCHER FOR THE CHRISTOPHER HANNA HAIR SALON.
$300!
$300?
Holy crap! I don't think all the haircuts I've ever had in my LIFE would add up to $300. Mostly because I learnt from Mel a long time ago how to cut it myself over the sink. But still.
So yeah. That's how this Wednesday became a great day. Oh, except there's one more thing: I just got home from babysitting and guess what's on TV?
PRISON BREAK!
Repeats yeah, but hey, I'll take whatever I can get.
Huh.
Maybe this is the best day ever.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Rove's Final Five, Originally Intended For...Shaun Micallef
Before I get to the final five, can I just say this might have been the weirdest Rove interview ever. I didn't get it. I so didn't get it. The singing? The awkward background laughter from the audience? The fact that Shaun was wearing cowboy boots with a suit?
Ah, well. Whatever. I can talk.
5. Would you happily end your career if it meant getting a free ute?
Well I would say yes, but I think in order to officially 'end' a career, you have to, you know, actually start one. Which I haven't done.
Yet.
Unless you consider totally adoring Wentworth Miller a career.
Huh. Probably not.
Still, I do love a good ute.
4. What was your nickname at school?
Alright. I'll answer this, but since I've already answered it at least twice before, I'm also going to give myself another question. So, my nickname at school was Jackass. And here's the real Question 4:
4. If they made your life into a movie, who would play you?
First of all, the question should not read 'if' they made my life into a movie, but 'when'. And secondly...well, I'd love to be able to say some beautiful and distinguished actress like Anne Hathaway or that French chick that made out with James Marsden in Flyboys. But knowing me - and my nose - it'd probably end up being Kevin Bacon in a wig. Or similar.
3. What's your favourite word?
I like the word 'love' way too much.
2. What's the most interesting thing about insurance law?
Um.
Nothing.
I'll tell you what's interesting, though: If you type 'wentworth millers birthday' into Google, mine is the first website that comes up. Huh. No way! Well, I guess that explains why so many foreigners left comments on my Happy Wentworth Miller's Birthday! post.
1. What's the first thing you think of when you see this:
Oh man. If I were five years younger, and he were five years older...It would be on. It would be so on.
Ah, well. Whatever. I can talk.
5. Would you happily end your career if it meant getting a free ute?
Well I would say yes, but I think in order to officially 'end' a career, you have to, you know, actually start one. Which I haven't done.
Yet.
Unless you consider totally adoring Wentworth Miller a career.
Huh. Probably not.
Still, I do love a good ute.
4. What was your nickname at school?
Alright. I'll answer this, but since I've already answered it at least twice before, I'm also going to give myself another question. So, my nickname at school was Jackass. And here's the real Question 4:
4. If they made your life into a movie, who would play you?
First of all, the question should not read 'if' they made my life into a movie, but 'when'. And secondly...well, I'd love to be able to say some beautiful and distinguished actress like Anne Hathaway or that French chick that made out with James Marsden in Flyboys. But knowing me - and my nose - it'd probably end up being Kevin Bacon in a wig. Or similar.
3. What's your favourite word?
I like the word 'love' way too much.
2. What's the most interesting thing about insurance law?
Um.
Nothing.
I'll tell you what's interesting, though: If you type 'wentworth millers birthday' into Google, mine is the first website that comes up. Huh. No way! Well, I guess that explains why so many foreigners left comments on my Happy Wentworth Miller's Birthday! post.
1. What's the first thing you think of when you see this:
Oh man. If I were five years younger, and he were five years older...It would be on. It would be so on.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Prepare your tastebuds
So today, in between finishing college assignments and watching episodes of Prison Break (did any of you really think the obsession would end just because the series did?), I invented a new flavour of pizza.
Yeah.
Suck it, Italy. There's a new chef in town!
Prepare your tastebuds for SPAGHETTI PIZZA.
That's right. Spaghetti Pizza.
Here's the recipe so you can try it for yourselves:
Ingredients:
Spaghetti
Pizza
Directions:
1. Combine ingredients
2. Eat
And I meant it when I said 'prepare your tastebuds'. You really need to. Because here's something I learned today: Spaghetti Pizza tastes like crap.
...
What's going on with me lately? I'm having serious food issues. And it's so not like me! I'm not saying I'm a genius or anything, but I can usually display enough intelligence to predict that pizza and spaghetti aren't going to mix well. And to tell the difference between human food and dog food. Oh, here's an update on that, by the way: It wasn't dog food, it was just really old chicken. Which might actually be worse, I'm not sure.
Yeah.
Suck it, Italy. There's a new chef in town!
Prepare your tastebuds for SPAGHETTI PIZZA.
That's right. Spaghetti Pizza.
Here's the recipe so you can try it for yourselves:
Ingredients:
Spaghetti
Pizza
Directions:
1. Combine ingredients
2. Eat
And I meant it when I said 'prepare your tastebuds'. You really need to. Because here's something I learned today: Spaghetti Pizza tastes like crap.
...
What's going on with me lately? I'm having serious food issues. And it's so not like me! I'm not saying I'm a genius or anything, but I can usually display enough intelligence to predict that pizza and spaghetti aren't going to mix well. And to tell the difference between human food and dog food. Oh, here's an update on that, by the way: It wasn't dog food, it was just really old chicken. Which might actually be worse, I'm not sure.
Monday, June 15, 2009
So I finally decided I needed to counteract all the sugar I've eaten today, and went in search of something savoury to eat. The only trouble was, it was almost midnight and the only respectable cook in this house (ie Mum) is asleep.
Huh.
Well, whatever, right? I've fended for myself on several occasions. And it's only ended in disaster once or twice. Anyway, I found something on a plate in the fridge that smelled vaguely like chicken, so I smothered it in tomato sauce and ate half of it, and now I feel kind of sick and I'm only just starting to wonder if it might have been dog food.
I'm hoping no.
It probably wasn't. I mean, why would the dog food have been in the fridge? That would be weird, right? Then again, there have been weirder things than dog food in our fridge - I found two Meningoccocal injection syringes in there once.
Huh.
Well, whatever, right? I've fended for myself on several occasions. And it's only ended in disaster once or twice. Anyway, I found something on a plate in the fridge that smelled vaguely like chicken, so I smothered it in tomato sauce and ate half of it, and now I feel kind of sick and I'm only just starting to wonder if it might have been dog food.
I'm hoping no.
It probably wasn't. I mean, why would the dog food have been in the fridge? That would be weird, right? Then again, there have been weirder things than dog food in our fridge - I found two Meningoccocal injection syringes in there once.
Sugar Coma
Aahhhhhh.
I'm giving birth to a food baby!
More specifically, a jellybean/freckle/smarties/sour worms/butter cake/lollypop/chocolate/cake frosting baby. Because that's all I've consumed today.
That, and cappuccinos.
Ohhhh my gosh. I'm torn between a super sugar high and what can only be described as crippling nausea. It's brilliant!
I should explain.
I don't usually eat this much crap in one day. I'm not disgusting, you know!
Ok, I'm disgusting. But not that disgusting.
Anyway, it was my sister's friend Daniel's birthday yesterday. No, okay, I'm gonna say it - he's my friend too!
So.
My sister and I have this friend Daniel, and it was his birthday yesterday. Can I have a moment here to totally FREAK OUT over how many people have had birthdays in the last 2 weeks? Can I? Can I?
Thanks.
*totally FREAKS OUT*
Anyway, Daniel's pretty cool, as far as people my sister has introduced me to go. I call him Milky - mostly because he has really really blond hair, but also because I just love saying the word 'milky'. Try it. It's fun. So Milky comes over sometimes and we bake brownies and watch movies and invent uber-exclusive clubs, where the only members are the two of us. Like, once we made a club for people who are super cool, and like to party.
It's called The Super Cool Party People. And no, you're not invited.
Wow, okay. I just realised this post is getting a little long-winded.
Long story short: Catherine and I made Milky a birthday cake.
No, that's not right.
It wasn't A birthday cake.
It was THE birthday cake.
Oh, hey. Here's a photo:
Yeah. Yeah. I know, right?
I chose a boat shape because Milky sails. So um, I figure he likes boats and stuff. Truth? I was going to make him a booby cake, but a) it's been done, and b) my last booby cake ended up looking like fried eggs, which wasn't that appetising.
Um, yes. So that's the story of how I ended up in a sugar coma. I totally recommend them, by the way.
Oh, and on another note, here's a photo of my cat, looking like a douche:
Hahaha.
I'm giving birth to a food baby!
More specifically, a jellybean/freckle/smarties/sour worms/butter cake/lollypop/chocolate/cake frosting baby. Because that's all I've consumed today.
That, and cappuccinos.
Ohhhh my gosh. I'm torn between a super sugar high and what can only be described as crippling nausea. It's brilliant!
I should explain.
I don't usually eat this much crap in one day. I'm not disgusting, you know!
Ok, I'm disgusting. But not that disgusting.
Anyway, it was my sister's friend Daniel's birthday yesterday. No, okay, I'm gonna say it - he's my friend too!
So.
My sister and I have this friend Daniel, and it was his birthday yesterday. Can I have a moment here to totally FREAK OUT over how many people have had birthdays in the last 2 weeks? Can I? Can I?
Thanks.
*totally FREAKS OUT*
Anyway, Daniel's pretty cool, as far as people my sister has introduced me to go. I call him Milky - mostly because he has really really blond hair, but also because I just love saying the word 'milky'. Try it. It's fun. So Milky comes over sometimes and we bake brownies and watch movies and invent uber-exclusive clubs, where the only members are the two of us. Like, once we made a club for people who are super cool, and like to party.
It's called The Super Cool Party People. And no, you're not invited.
Wow, okay. I just realised this post is getting a little long-winded.
Long story short: Catherine and I made Milky a birthday cake.
No, that's not right.
It wasn't A birthday cake.
It was THE birthday cake.
Oh, hey. Here's a photo:
Yeah. Yeah. I know, right?
I chose a boat shape because Milky sails. So um, I figure he likes boats and stuff. Truth? I was going to make him a booby cake, but a) it's been done, and b) my last booby cake ended up looking like fried eggs, which wasn't that appetising.
Um, yes. So that's the story of how I ended up in a sugar coma. I totally recommend them, by the way.
Oh, and on another note, here's a photo of my cat, looking like a douche:
Hahaha.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
10,000 BC
I watched 10,000 BC today.
Yeah.
Even though I was warned (firmly) by more than one person not to do so, I felt like I should give it a chance. Here was my reasoning:
Well anyway. After watching the movie, all I have to say is...well, sometimes I question my purpose on earth. But no more. No. After watching 10,000 BC, I can understand my role in the destiny of mankind: To warn people against watching this piece of crap movie.
Please.
Please, for your own good. DON'T watch 10,000 BC. I'm going to say it: 10,000 BC is the worst movie I've ever seen. And I've seen Boytown. Twice.
And it's not that I'm hard to impress or anything. Because I'm not! I am SO not! I might be the most easily impressed person on the planet. Today I told my sister's friend his water bed was 'Probably the best thing I've ever seen in my life.'
Huh. That might not be a fair test, though. Waterbeds are awesome.
Well, anyway. Not the point. The point is...if you ever feel the temptation to watch 10,000 BC, stop, go to your computer, and read this post instead:
WHY 10,000 BC SUCKS
Alright so we're ten minutes in, and the leading guy/girl have already confessed their undying love for each other. Oh, and did I mention that at this stage, they're still kids?
Yeah.
Kids.
Um, what?
They expect us to believe that 10,000 years ago, living in the mountains, hunted by a pack of blood-thirsty woolly mammoths, two 10 year old's can find their soulmates? Oh, man. I didn't know whether to feel embarrassed for the writers, or depressed over the fact that I'm almost 20 and still totally alone.
And, yeah. Blood-thirsty woolly mammoths. There's a sentence I never thought I'd say.
Anyway.
For the first, like, 45 minutes, part of the excitement was looking out for Whoopi Goldburg. I can't explain it, but for some reason, I was totally convinced Whoopi Goldburg was in this movie. I swear when Julia's dad was telling me about it at Christmas, the name 'Whoopi Goldburg' came out of his mouth at one point. Although he might have just said something like "Dude that movie is so bad, I'd rather see Whoopi Goldburg dress in drag and do the hula than sit through it again."
Yeah, so 45 minutes went by with me going "Whoopi? Whoopi? Is that Whoopi? Is that Whoopi?" every 6 seconds. I think at one point I even convinced myself that she played the crazy ancient tribe witch. She did not.
Oh, here's a question for the hair and makeup department: Why does everyone have dreadlocks? I mean yeah, I get that it's 10,000 BC and you're all supposed to look rugged and primative and stuff, but would dreadlocks really have been the best low-hair-care option? Surely a ponytail would suffice? And did you actually think anyone would buy that Camilla Belle's eyes are really that colour? Hint: the bit around the iris is supposed to be white. Not blue.
You know what else was interesting? And by 'interesting', I mean 'made me want to scratch my own eyes out with frustration'? All of the animals were huge. Ridiculously huge. It was crazy - first you've got the crazy dinosaur chicken things which can bite through trees, then there's a 15ft vulture. Oh, and the sabre-tooth tiger I saw must have been shooting some serious steroids, because it was pretty much the size of a bus.
Amusing? Yes.
Believable? Hell no.
Oh and here's a fun fact: Remember those woolly mammoths I was talking about? Well it turns out they're the ones that built the pyramids in Egypt. Slaves, aliens, some form of ancient Egyptian machinery...I don't know why we never considered woolly mammoths before! Thanks, 10,000 BC. You cracked the case WIDE open!
Okay, I'm going to stop here, because I'm starting to sound mean, and well honestly, a little crazy. And should any of the writers/producers/directors of 10,000 BC be reading this right now, I don't want them to think that just because the movies they make are really shit, I wouldn't be willing to star in one. Because I would. I totally would. You know, as long as I didn't have to actually get dreadlocks or anything.
Yeah.
Even though I was warned (firmly) by more than one person not to do so, I felt like I should give it a chance. Here was my reasoning:
Well I like good movies, so if it's good, I'll like it. And I like crap movies, so if it's crap, I'll like it. And I need something to distract myself from the fact that Michael died in the last episode of Prison Break, so if it's not Wentworth Miller being electrocuted, I'll like it.
Yeah, I know. Pretty solid, right?Well anyway. After watching the movie, all I have to say is...well, sometimes I question my purpose on earth. But no more. No. After watching 10,000 BC, I can understand my role in the destiny of mankind: To warn people against watching this piece of crap movie.
Please.
Please, for your own good. DON'T watch 10,000 BC. I'm going to say it: 10,000 BC is the worst movie I've ever seen. And I've seen Boytown. Twice.
And it's not that I'm hard to impress or anything. Because I'm not! I am SO not! I might be the most easily impressed person on the planet. Today I told my sister's friend his water bed was 'Probably the best thing I've ever seen in my life.'
Huh. That might not be a fair test, though. Waterbeds are awesome.
Well, anyway. Not the point. The point is...if you ever feel the temptation to watch 10,000 BC, stop, go to your computer, and read this post instead:
WHY 10,000 BC SUCKS
Yeah.
Kids.
Um, what?
They expect us to believe that 10,000 years ago, living in the mountains, hunted by a pack of blood-thirsty woolly mammoths, two 10 year old's can find their soulmates? Oh, man. I didn't know whether to feel embarrassed for the writers, or depressed over the fact that I'm almost 20 and still totally alone.
And, yeah. Blood-thirsty woolly mammoths. There's a sentence I never thought I'd say.
Anyway.
For the first, like, 45 minutes, part of the excitement was looking out for Whoopi Goldburg. I can't explain it, but for some reason, I was totally convinced Whoopi Goldburg was in this movie. I swear when Julia's dad was telling me about it at Christmas, the name 'Whoopi Goldburg' came out of his mouth at one point. Although he might have just said something like "Dude that movie is so bad, I'd rather see Whoopi Goldburg dress in drag and do the hula than sit through it again."
Yeah, so 45 minutes went by with me going "Whoopi? Whoopi? Is that Whoopi? Is that Whoopi?" every 6 seconds. I think at one point I even convinced myself that she played the crazy ancient tribe witch. She did not.
Oh, here's a question for the hair and makeup department: Why does everyone have dreadlocks? I mean yeah, I get that it's 10,000 BC and you're all supposed to look rugged and primative and stuff, but would dreadlocks really have been the best low-hair-care option? Surely a ponytail would suffice? And did you actually think anyone would buy that Camilla Belle's eyes are really that colour? Hint: the bit around the iris is supposed to be white. Not blue.
You know what else was interesting? And by 'interesting', I mean 'made me want to scratch my own eyes out with frustration'? All of the animals were huge. Ridiculously huge. It was crazy - first you've got the crazy dinosaur chicken things which can bite through trees, then there's a 15ft vulture. Oh, and the sabre-tooth tiger I saw must have been shooting some serious steroids, because it was pretty much the size of a bus.
Amusing? Yes.
Believable? Hell no.
Oh and here's a fun fact: Remember those woolly mammoths I was talking about? Well it turns out they're the ones that built the pyramids in Egypt. Slaves, aliens, some form of ancient Egyptian machinery...I don't know why we never considered woolly mammoths before! Thanks, 10,000 BC. You cracked the case WIDE open!
Okay, I'm going to stop here, because I'm starting to sound mean, and well honestly, a little crazy. And should any of the writers/producers/directors of 10,000 BC be reading this right now, I don't want them to think that just because the movies they make are really shit, I wouldn't be willing to star in one. Because I would. I totally would. You know, as long as I didn't have to actually get dreadlocks or anything.
Friday, June 12, 2009
"I knew it was bad before I said it....but I said it anyway"
Alright.
Last night I made probably one of the most offensive jokes I have ever made.
I mean, it was bad.
Really bad.
Really really bad.
It was worse than the time Julia and I were on the train and she was all "It smells funny in here", and I was all "Yeah, smells like old!", and then we both turned and stared at this like, 80 year old woman.
It was worse than the time I said Michael Vaughn's funeral should have been open-casket, because he was so hot (Ok, and wait, because I know people who don't watch Alias or who haven't heard this story are going to totally freak out over that comment - HE'S A CHARACTER ON TV, NOT A REAL PERSON. So it's not that offensive.)
It was worse than the Hearse-About incident.
...
Hey, quick question - how come all my 'totally offensive' moments involve Julia? And old people?
Huh?
Anyone?
Well, never mind.
My point is, the joke I came up with last night TOTALLY beats all those. I mean it. It kicks those other joke's asses all over the playground and puts bubblegum in their hair.
So obviously, I can't tell it.
Ha.
You THOUGHT I was going to tell it, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU? Well sorry to disappoint, but I'm not.
And it's not just that I'm not, it's that I wont.
I cant.
Because I enjoy the freedom of being able to leave my house without people throwing things at me too much.
Yeah - THAT'S how offensive this joke was.
I will give you something though: My sister's reaction.
Catherine: I mean, it's like - wait. What did you just say?
Ok, and I was bent over with my head buried in a pillow, trying to stop myself from laughing.
Jacki: I can't believe I just said that
Catherine: WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?
Jacki: I am the worst person ever!
Catherine: That was bad! That was...so bad!
Yeah, keep in mind, at this point, we were both pissing ourselves.
Jacki: I know! I knew it was bad before I said it...but I said it anyway!
You know how sometimes you laugh so hard you start crying? Yeah.
Catherine: Are you going to blog about this?
Jacki: Are you crazy?!
Catherine: Yeah, you're right. If anyone finds out about this, you'll be the most hated person on the planet.
Ok, yeah, I think she went a little overboard with that last comment. I mean, what about Hitler?
Plus she was laughing too!
Last night I made probably one of the most offensive jokes I have ever made.
I mean, it was bad.
Really bad.
Really really bad.
It was worse than the time Julia and I were on the train and she was all "It smells funny in here", and I was all "Yeah, smells like old!", and then we both turned and stared at this like, 80 year old woman.
It was worse than the time I said Michael Vaughn's funeral should have been open-casket, because he was so hot (Ok, and wait, because I know people who don't watch Alias or who haven't heard this story are going to totally freak out over that comment - HE'S A CHARACTER ON TV, NOT A REAL PERSON. So it's not that offensive.)
It was worse than the Hearse-About incident.
...
Hey, quick question - how come all my 'totally offensive' moments involve Julia? And old people?
Huh?
Anyone?
Well, never mind.
My point is, the joke I came up with last night TOTALLY beats all those. I mean it. It kicks those other joke's asses all over the playground and puts bubblegum in their hair.
So obviously, I can't tell it.
Ha.
You THOUGHT I was going to tell it, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU? Well sorry to disappoint, but I'm not.
And it's not just that I'm not, it's that I wont.
I cant.
Because I enjoy the freedom of being able to leave my house without people throwing things at me too much.
Yeah - THAT'S how offensive this joke was.
I will give you something though: My sister's reaction.
Catherine: I mean, it's like - wait. What did you just say?
Ok, and I was bent over with my head buried in a pillow, trying to stop myself from laughing.
Jacki: I can't believe I just said that
Catherine: WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?
Jacki: I am the worst person ever!
Catherine: That was bad! That was...so bad!
Yeah, keep in mind, at this point, we were both pissing ourselves.
Jacki: I know! I knew it was bad before I said it...but I said it anyway!
You know how sometimes you laugh so hard you start crying? Yeah.
Catherine: Are you going to blog about this?
Jacki: Are you crazy?!
Catherine: Yeah, you're right. If anyone finds out about this, you'll be the most hated person on the planet.
Ok, yeah, I think she went a little overboard with that last comment. I mean, what about Hitler?
Plus she was laughing too!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Top Ten
The Top Ten Reasons Why I Hate Winter
10. The 'Moon Tan'
Oh, my gosh. I know we live in the age slash nation of skin cancer and all, but how I miss having a tan. I mean it. I mean it! Now I'm so white my skin has blinding capabilities. THAT'S what I call a health hazard.
9. Constant Showers
Because the only way to defrost my limbs each morning is to stand in the shower for 45 minutes, with the temperature turned all the way to 'scalding hot'. And then it only takes 2 seconds after I get out before they're all frozen again! Dammit! So basically, the only way to get through a whole day without turning into a modern-day Otzi is to keep showering. Every hour, on the hour. Haha, no, only kidding - there's a drought, people! So I have to settle for 2 showers a day. Okay, sometimes 3.
8. Chapped Lips
Yeah it's totally gross, but don't pretend you don't have the same problem. Everyone knows that winter = chapped lips. I guess it wouldn't be so bad, except how can I expect Wentworth to kiss me if my lips are all chappy? And on that note...
7. The Cold Weather Means There's Less Chance Of Wentworth Taking His Shirt Off In Front Of Me
Well, it's true!! Should he choose to visit Australia again, I mean. Last summer it was so fracking hot, there were guys walking around shirtless in Westfield. In Westfield!! Hell, I was tempted to walk around shirtless in Westfield. But in winter? I don't think so.
6. Swine Flu
Huh. Maybe there's actually no connection between it being winter and the Swine Flu pandemic. But I'm not knowledgable enough to know whether or not thats true. So Swine Flu makes the list.
5. There Aren't As Many Opportunities To Wear Sunglasses
Which probably isn't such a big deal to any normal person, but for me, Jacki Trew, sunglass addict, it's a serious issue. You have no idea how depressing it is to own 5000 pairs of sunglasses, and have nowhere to wear them!
4. I Have To Keep Blowdrying My Hair
Because if I don't, and I go outside when it's still wet, the cold air freezes the water and my hair dries like ice, and then if I try and put it into a ponytail, it'll all snap off. And then I'll be bald. Which would suck.
3. I Don't DO Winter Clothes
I don't. I really don't. The warmest thing I own is probably...jeans. And they have holes in the knees! The only long-sleeved tops I have cost me 5 bucks from Cotton On, and they're so thin, it's like wearing tissue paper. I may as well walk around naked. And, yes, sometimes I do. But lets be honest - that's not pleasant for anyone.
2. I HATE Electric Blankets
Maybe I'm crazy. Oh, who am I kidding - of COURSE I'm crazy. But I can totally justify my fear of electric blankets. I used to love them. Oh yes, they were fantastic. Until I saw this news report on some old lady who burned to death because hers lit on fire in the middle of the night. It LIT on FIRE. In THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. It's like two of my greatest fears combined - spontaneous combustion, and the dark. If that's not a good enough reason to hate electric blankets, I don't know what is.
and the Number 1 Reason Why I Hate Winter...
It's not summer.
Oh, my gosh. I know we live in the age slash nation of skin cancer and all, but how I miss having a tan. I mean it. I mean it! Now I'm so white my skin has blinding capabilities. THAT'S what I call a health hazard.
9. Constant Showers
Because the only way to defrost my limbs each morning is to stand in the shower for 45 minutes, with the temperature turned all the way to 'scalding hot'. And then it only takes 2 seconds after I get out before they're all frozen again! Dammit! So basically, the only way to get through a whole day without turning into a modern-day Otzi is to keep showering. Every hour, on the hour. Haha, no, only kidding - there's a drought, people! So I have to settle for 2 showers a day. Okay, sometimes 3.
8. Chapped Lips
Yeah it's totally gross, but don't pretend you don't have the same problem. Everyone knows that winter = chapped lips. I guess it wouldn't be so bad, except how can I expect Wentworth to kiss me if my lips are all chappy? And on that note...
7. The Cold Weather Means There's Less Chance Of Wentworth Taking His Shirt Off In Front Of Me
Well, it's true!! Should he choose to visit Australia again, I mean. Last summer it was so fracking hot, there were guys walking around shirtless in Westfield. In Westfield!! Hell, I was tempted to walk around shirtless in Westfield. But in winter? I don't think so.
6. Swine Flu
Huh. Maybe there's actually no connection between it being winter and the Swine Flu pandemic. But I'm not knowledgable enough to know whether or not thats true. So Swine Flu makes the list.
5. There Aren't As Many Opportunities To Wear Sunglasses
Which probably isn't such a big deal to any normal person, but for me, Jacki Trew, sunglass addict, it's a serious issue. You have no idea how depressing it is to own 5000 pairs of sunglasses, and have nowhere to wear them!
4. I Have To Keep Blowdrying My Hair
Because if I don't, and I go outside when it's still wet, the cold air freezes the water and my hair dries like ice, and then if I try and put it into a ponytail, it'll all snap off. And then I'll be bald. Which would suck.
3. I Don't DO Winter Clothes
I don't. I really don't. The warmest thing I own is probably...jeans. And they have holes in the knees! The only long-sleeved tops I have cost me 5 bucks from Cotton On, and they're so thin, it's like wearing tissue paper. I may as well walk around naked. And, yes, sometimes I do. But lets be honest - that's not pleasant for anyone.
2. I HATE Electric Blankets
Maybe I'm crazy. Oh, who am I kidding - of COURSE I'm crazy. But I can totally justify my fear of electric blankets. I used to love them. Oh yes, they were fantastic. Until I saw this news report on some old lady who burned to death because hers lit on fire in the middle of the night. It LIT on FIRE. In THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. It's like two of my greatest fears combined - spontaneous combustion, and the dark. If that's not a good enough reason to hate electric blankets, I don't know what is.
and the Number 1 Reason Why I Hate Winter...
It's not summer.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Star Trek in 2 minutes
Hey, who knew today was a public holiday?
I sure didn't! At least, not until Mum woke me up this morning and asked if I wanted to go see Star Trek with her.
And, because I love my Mum, and couldn't think of anything I'd like to do more than go see Star Trek with her on a (supposedly) public holiday, I said yes. Of course I said yes!
Ok, so technically I didn't say yes. What I actually said was:
Mum: Hey! Want to come see Star Trek at the movies with me??
Jacki: (Pause) You're paying, right?
But that just makes me look like a bad daughter. Which I'm not - Catherine is the bad daughter. She didn't even come!
Anyway, not important.
So, Star Trek. Actually, for a nerdy guys movie set in space and based on an old TV show about which I have absolutely no previous knowledge, it wasn't bad.
It wasn't bad at all.
And I'm not just saying that because it stars Eric Bana, and anyone who knows me knows that Eric Bana and I have a special connection. I mean, that's only part of it.
Plus it didn't hurt that the dude playing Kirk was a total slamming hottie. Even if his eyebrows were kind of out of control. They say large eyebrows are a sign of power, right? Well, that guy must be the most powerful man in the world.
Anyway, that's pretty much my take on Star Trek. A quick recap:
Best Moment: When pre-teen Kirk drives his step-dads antique convertible over a cliff
Worst Moment: When Kirk Senior sacrifices himself in order to save his wife and unborn baby. Don't worry, that happens at the very beginning, so it's not like I spoiled anything for you. But it totally reminded me of the end of Prison Break. Which, in turn, reminded me that:
a) Wentworth died at the end of Prison Break, and
b) There is an end of Prison Break
So yeah. That was the worst moment, for me.
Weirdest Moment: Ok there are two. First, when Uhura made out with Spock (I thought she and Kirk were the hot space couple!). And second, when Kirk implied that he sometimes has sex with farm animals - was that really necessary, J.J Abrams?
My Favourite Line: "You're from the future. Thats brilliant!! Do they still have sandwiches there?"
Rating: I'll give it 3.5 stars.
Solid.
I sure didn't! At least, not until Mum woke me up this morning and asked if I wanted to go see Star Trek with her.
And, because I love my Mum, and couldn't think of anything I'd like to do more than go see Star Trek with her on a (supposedly) public holiday, I said yes. Of course I said yes!
Ok, so technically I didn't say yes. What I actually said was:
Mum: Hey! Want to come see Star Trek at the movies with me??
Jacki: (Pause) You're paying, right?
But that just makes me look like a bad daughter. Which I'm not - Catherine is the bad daughter. She didn't even come!
Anyway, not important.
So, Star Trek. Actually, for a nerdy guys movie set in space and based on an old TV show about which I have absolutely no previous knowledge, it wasn't bad.
It wasn't bad at all.
And I'm not just saying that because it stars Eric Bana, and anyone who knows me knows that Eric Bana and I have a special connection. I mean, that's only part of it.
Plus it didn't hurt that the dude playing Kirk was a total slamming hottie. Even if his eyebrows were kind of out of control. They say large eyebrows are a sign of power, right? Well, that guy must be the most powerful man in the world.
Anyway, that's pretty much my take on Star Trek. A quick recap:
Best Moment: When pre-teen Kirk drives his step-dads antique convertible over a cliff
Worst Moment: When Kirk Senior sacrifices himself in order to save his wife and unborn baby. Don't worry, that happens at the very beginning, so it's not like I spoiled anything for you. But it totally reminded me of the end of Prison Break. Which, in turn, reminded me that:
a) Wentworth died at the end of Prison Break, and
b) There is an end of Prison Break
So yeah. That was the worst moment, for me.
Weirdest Moment: Ok there are two. First, when Uhura made out with Spock (I thought she and Kirk were the hot space couple!). And second, when Kirk implied that he sometimes has sex with farm animals - was that really necessary, J.J Abrams?
My Favourite Line: "You're from the future. Thats brilliant!! Do they still have sandwiches there?"
Rating: I'll give it 3.5 stars.
Solid.
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Rove's Final Five, Originally Intended For...Pink
5. What would you be if you joined the circus?
Oh, man. Anything - anything - but the bearded lady. Please, ring master, I beg of you!! If I actually had a choice, I like to think I'd be something cool, like one of those super-fit acrobat twins or something. Then again, with my nose, I'd probably end up playing The Elephant Man.
4. If you could choose a tattoo for me (Rove) right now, what would it be?
I've thought about this. There are two options:
a) You shave your head and get Voldemort's face on the back of your skull (an old favourite of mine)
b) This:
3. When you arrive at a party, how often does someone say "Lets get the party started!"?
Not nearly often enough.
2. When you are exactly halfway through a motorcycle backflip, what are you thinking?
"I. Am. AWESOME."
Oh. And, as always:
"I hope Wentworth is watching this!"
1. What's the first thing you think of when you see this:
Yeah, that's pretty funny. But I can go one better:
Hahaha. Thankyou, Google Images!
Oh, man. Anything - anything - but the bearded lady. Please, ring master, I beg of you!! If I actually had a choice, I like to think I'd be something cool, like one of those super-fit acrobat twins or something. Then again, with my nose, I'd probably end up playing The Elephant Man.
4. If you could choose a tattoo for me (Rove) right now, what would it be?
I've thought about this. There are two options:
a) You shave your head and get Voldemort's face on the back of your skull (an old favourite of mine)
b) This:
3. When you arrive at a party, how often does someone say "Lets get the party started!"?
Not nearly often enough.
2. When you are exactly halfway through a motorcycle backflip, what are you thinking?
"I. Am. AWESOME."
Oh. And, as always:
"I hope Wentworth is watching this!"
1. What's the first thing you think of when you see this:
Yeah, that's pretty funny. But I can go one better:
Hahaha. Thankyou, Google Images!
Saturday, June 06, 2009
The Wolf Creek Theory: Test Results
Alright so, for those of you who haven't read the post below, here's the 411:
The theory: That I, Jacki Trew, am no longer afraid of scary movies
The test: Watching Saw 4 all by myself
The reason it's named after Wolf Creek: Um, yeah. Just read the post below. I can't be assed to explain it again
Anyway, as I was saying...In order to test my latest hypothesis, last night, I watched Saw 4.
In it's entirety.
At night.
BY MYSELF.
So, I hear you asking. The results?
Was I scared? Was I afraid? Was I TERRIFIED?
Um, no.
I totally wasn't.
As much as my sister went on and on and on and on about how it was the scariest slash most graphically violent movie she'd ever seen, that I'd have nightmares for weeks and that she - and I quote - "would rather stand outside in the freezing rain all night and then die than watch that movie again", Saw 4 was kind of tame.
Kind of really tame.
I mean, I'll admit there was a moment at about 34 minutes in, where some guy gets attacked by a shower curtain that made me just about piss myself. And by 'just about', what I really mean is 'Yeah, I had to change my pants'. But other than that, the scariest thing I saw was a naked old guy on an autopsy table. Which, granted, will probably give me nightmares for the rest of my life, but since I don't think they actually meant for it to be scary, it totally doesn't count.
So.
I think I just about proved my own theory correct.
BUT.
In the name of science, I decided to perform a follow-up test. So today, in between wrapping my Dad's birthday present and building lego houses with two of my nephews, I watched ANOTHER scary movie.
This one - creatively named Black Christmas - was about a criminally insane serial killer who escapes from a mental home on Christmas Eve and joins forces with his incestuous one-eyed sister to wreak havoc on a group of college girls and their sorority house mother.
It was kind of a cross between Bad Santa, Wrong Turn and the Halloween movies, pretty stupid, a little unrealistic, and probably one of the most awesome movies I've ever seen.
I totally recommend it. You'll laugh, you'll cringe, you'll recognise the dumb chick from Mean Girls as one of the sorority sisters, and you'll have a total Prison Break moment when you see the scene where Billy (the killer) escapes from the mental hospital by digging a hole in the wall behind the toilet.
I know I did!
And was I scared? NO!
Well, maybe a little, by the quality of acting. But like I said before, if it's not intentionally scary, it doesn't count.
Oh man. The Nobel Peace Prize is mine for sure!!
The theory: That I, Jacki Trew, am no longer afraid of scary movies
The test: Watching Saw 4 all by myself
The reason it's named after Wolf Creek: Um, yeah. Just read the post below. I can't be assed to explain it again
Anyway, as I was saying...In order to test my latest hypothesis, last night, I watched Saw 4.
In it's entirety.
At night.
BY MYSELF.
So, I hear you asking. The results?
Was I scared? Was I afraid? Was I TERRIFIED?
Um, no.
I totally wasn't.
As much as my sister went on and on and on and on about how it was the scariest slash most graphically violent movie she'd ever seen, that I'd have nightmares for weeks and that she - and I quote - "would rather stand outside in the freezing rain all night and then die than watch that movie again", Saw 4 was kind of tame.
Kind of really tame.
I mean, I'll admit there was a moment at about 34 minutes in, where some guy gets attacked by a shower curtain that made me just about piss myself. And by 'just about', what I really mean is 'Yeah, I had to change my pants'. But other than that, the scariest thing I saw was a naked old guy on an autopsy table. Which, granted, will probably give me nightmares for the rest of my life, but since I don't think they actually meant for it to be scary, it totally doesn't count.
So.
I think I just about proved my own theory correct.
BUT.
In the name of science, I decided to perform a follow-up test. So today, in between wrapping my Dad's birthday present and building lego houses with two of my nephews, I watched ANOTHER scary movie.
This one - creatively named Black Christmas - was about a criminally insane serial killer who escapes from a mental home on Christmas Eve and joins forces with his incestuous one-eyed sister to wreak havoc on a group of college girls and their sorority house mother.
It was kind of a cross between Bad Santa, Wrong Turn and the Halloween movies, pretty stupid, a little unrealistic, and probably one of the most awesome movies I've ever seen.
I totally recommend it. You'll laugh, you'll cringe, you'll recognise the dumb chick from Mean Girls as one of the sorority sisters, and you'll have a total Prison Break moment when you see the scene where Billy (the killer) escapes from the mental hospital by digging a hole in the wall behind the toilet.
I know I did!
And was I scared? NO!
Well, maybe a little, by the quality of acting. But like I said before, if it's not intentionally scary, it doesn't count.
Oh man. The Nobel Peace Prize is mine for sure!!
Friday, June 05, 2009
The Wolf Creek Theory
Oh my gosh, I did it again.
Another Nobel-Peace-Prize-Winning theory.
Ok, maybe not Winning.
But definitely Deserving.
Whatever, not important.
Here is my theory: I, JACKI TREW, AM NO LONGER AFRAID OF SCARY MOVIES.
...
This might seem kind of stupid and irrelevant and not at all important enough to create a theory about, but to anyone who knows me it's not.
Because anyone who knows me knows that I am probably the most scare-able person in the country. On the planet. I daresay, in THE UNIVERSE. I mean it. I am. I really am. I mean, I got scared watching Finding Nemo!
Alright, no I didn't.
Still, you get the picture.
BUT.
Like 3 weeks ago, I watched Wolf Creek, at night, all by myself - and I wasn't afraid.
AT ALL!
Huh, I thought.
That was kind of weird. Especially since the first time I watched Wolf Creek I got so scared that I died a little inside.
Anyway, earlier I was flipping through the TV Guide, and I noticed that Saw 4 is playing on Movie One tonight. Excellent! It's the perfect chance to test The Wolf Creek Theory. If I can sit through Saw 4 (which doesn't start til midnight) all by myself and not get scared, I'll know that:
a) I'm no longer afraid of scary movies, and
b) I just doubled my chances of winning The Nobel Peace Prize
And if my theory turns out to be incorrect and I spend the night pointlessly scaring the crap out of myself...well, at least I'll have something to blog about!
Another Nobel-Peace-Prize-Winning theory.
Ok, maybe not Winning.
But definitely Deserving.
Whatever, not important.
Here is my theory: I, JACKI TREW, AM NO LONGER AFRAID OF SCARY MOVIES.
...
This might seem kind of stupid and irrelevant and not at all important enough to create a theory about, but to anyone who knows me it's not.
Because anyone who knows me knows that I am probably the most scare-able person in the country. On the planet. I daresay, in THE UNIVERSE. I mean it. I am. I really am. I mean, I got scared watching Finding Nemo!
Alright, no I didn't.
Still, you get the picture.
BUT.
Like 3 weeks ago, I watched Wolf Creek, at night, all by myself - and I wasn't afraid.
AT ALL!
Huh, I thought.
That was kind of weird. Especially since the first time I watched Wolf Creek I got so scared that I died a little inside.
Anyway, earlier I was flipping through the TV Guide, and I noticed that Saw 4 is playing on Movie One tonight. Excellent! It's the perfect chance to test The Wolf Creek Theory. If I can sit through Saw 4 (which doesn't start til midnight) all by myself and not get scared, I'll know that:
a) I'm no longer afraid of scary movies, and
b) I just doubled my chances of winning The Nobel Peace Prize
And if my theory turns out to be incorrect and I spend the night pointlessly scaring the crap out of myself...well, at least I'll have something to blog about!
Susanne Somers hates me!
Alright, before you get too excited, I'm not talking about the real Susanne Somers.
I don't know her.
Not yet, anyway.
I'm talking about my old boss from Blue Illusion, also known (during my time as an employee there) as The Illusion, B.I, and more commonly, That Hellhole In Which I Am Forced To Fold Jumpers For Hours And Hours On End.
Ok so the other day I was wandering aimlessly around Lane Cove, which I like to do on my spare days, both on account of the fact that there's always the off chance I'll find enough change in my pockets to buy an icecream from Zest, and well, Lane Cove is just awesome.
Am I right, Kiera?
I'm right.
Right?
So anyway, I was wandering towards Cove Variety (because who doesn't love a good half-hour rummage through the worlds oldest 2 dollar shop?) and I saw this woman staring at me weirdly.
And not weirdly in a good way.
Weirdly in a bad way.
Like, I don't want to make assumptions, but it kind of looked like she wanted to kill me.
Whoa, ok. So my first thought is how to get away from this woman as quickly as possible. And my second thought is "Hey...I think I know her!"
So I turned around to get a second glance, noticed that she was heading towards Blue Illusion and that's when I realised BLUE ILLUSION + WOMAN I RECOGNISE = OH, MY GOSH. IT'S MY OLD BOSS.
Umm. Yeah.
What I couldn't figure out was the death-stare she gave me. I mean, it's not like we parted on bitter terms or anything. At first I thought it might have been because, ok, Blue Illusion is where I worked before I went overseas last year, and, well... I might have kind of sort of left it to the last minute before I quit.
But it wasn't that bad! It went something like this:
(Phone rings)
Jacki: Hello?
My Boss: Hey Jacki, it's Magda. I'm just calling to tell you your roster for this week, okay?
Jacki: Oh you know what, I'm actually going overseas this week, so...
My Boss: Overseas? Really? What day?
Jacki: Um...Tomorrow.
Ok, so it was pretty bad.
But it couldn't have been that terrible, because she gave me my job back when I got home!!
So, I don't know. And it can't have anything to do with me being a bad employee, because I totally wasn't. I don't wanna brag or anything, but I folded the crap out of those jumpers!
Well, whatever.
If she really wants to kill me, she can just join the club*.
*The Club:
I don't know her.
Not yet, anyway.
I'm talking about my old boss from Blue Illusion, also known (during my time as an employee there) as The Illusion, B.I, and more commonly, That Hellhole In Which I Am Forced To Fold Jumpers For Hours And Hours On End.
Ok so the other day I was wandering aimlessly around Lane Cove, which I like to do on my spare days, both on account of the fact that there's always the off chance I'll find enough change in my pockets to buy an icecream from Zest, and well, Lane Cove is just awesome.
Am I right, Kiera?
I'm right.
Right?
So anyway, I was wandering towards Cove Variety (because who doesn't love a good half-hour rummage through the worlds oldest 2 dollar shop?) and I saw this woman staring at me weirdly.
And not weirdly in a good way.
Weirdly in a bad way.
Like, I don't want to make assumptions, but it kind of looked like she wanted to kill me.
Whoa, ok. So my first thought is how to get away from this woman as quickly as possible. And my second thought is "Hey...I think I know her!"
So I turned around to get a second glance, noticed that she was heading towards Blue Illusion and that's when I realised BLUE ILLUSION + WOMAN I RECOGNISE = OH, MY GOSH. IT'S MY OLD BOSS.
Umm. Yeah.
What I couldn't figure out was the death-stare she gave me. I mean, it's not like we parted on bitter terms or anything. At first I thought it might have been because, ok, Blue Illusion is where I worked before I went overseas last year, and, well... I might have kind of sort of left it to the last minute before I quit.
But it wasn't that bad! It went something like this:
(Phone rings)
Jacki: Hello?
My Boss: Hey Jacki, it's Magda. I'm just calling to tell you your roster for this week, okay?
Jacki: Oh you know what, I'm actually going overseas this week, so...
My Boss: Overseas? Really? What day?
Jacki: Um...Tomorrow.
Ok, so it was pretty bad.
But it couldn't have been that terrible, because she gave me my job back when I got home!!
So, I don't know. And it can't have anything to do with me being a bad employee, because I totally wasn't. I don't wanna brag or anything, but I folded the crap out of those jumpers!
Well, whatever.
If she really wants to kill me, she can just join the club*.
*The Club:
- Ivan Milat
- Catherine Trew
- Emily Shanahan
- Richard O'Brien
- Anyone who has ever heard me sing
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
The time I played Goal Defence
Ok so I just got back from netball. It was hilarious, as usual. I know "hilarious" isn't usually the kind of adjective you'd associate with netball, but, well, if you were on our team, you'd understand.
Oh, and yeah, hi fives to me for just using the word 'adjective' in a sentence!
Thank you, year 8 English.
Anyway, back to netball.
One of the most entertaining moments of the evening was when I tried to play Goal Defence. I knew from the beginning it probably wasn't going to go down well, on account of the fact that I have a tendency to scream and shrink away from the ball if it comes towards me out of nowhere - and we all know that the mark of a good defence player is someone who's afraid of the ball.
But, seriously.
Goal Defence?
Me?
Jacki? Jacki Trew? Jacki Trew trying to play Goal Defence?
Um, yeah, it was a total disaster.
My team laughed at me.
The other team laughed at me.
I laughed at me.
Then the umpire pulled me up for 'intimidation' because I was laughing at myself trying to defend. Um, what? I fail to see how me mocking myself could possibly affect the other team. I mean, apart from the fact that I have a pretty insane laugh.
Hmm...on second thoughts, that umpire was probably right.
Oh, I totally forgot to mention the other way I embarassed myself tonight! So as I was driving into the carpark at Willoughby Leisure Centre, I saw Madi getting out of her car, and she just happened to have a free spot next to her. So I drove over, ready to show her my super-wicked parking skills. This is how it went:
Jacki: (Getting out of the car) How good is my parking!
Madi: Dude, you're on two spaces
(I look down and realise I've parked the car right in the middle of two separate car spaces)
Jacki: Huh
Madi: And...I think the car is still moving!
Jacki: What? No it's not. (The car is slowly rolling towards me) Oh, yes it is!
(Here I actually tried to push the car back into place. With my hands. What? Yes - I'm an idiot!)
Mum: Jacki, you forgot to put the break on. You moron!
Hahaha. I can't wait til my driving test - even if I don't pass, at least I'll give the instructor a laugh.
Oh, and yeah, hi fives to me for just using the word 'adjective' in a sentence!
Thank you, year 8 English.
Anyway, back to netball.
One of the most entertaining moments of the evening was when I tried to play Goal Defence. I knew from the beginning it probably wasn't going to go down well, on account of the fact that I have a tendency to scream and shrink away from the ball if it comes towards me out of nowhere - and we all know that the mark of a good defence player is someone who's afraid of the ball.
But, seriously.
Goal Defence?
Me?
Jacki? Jacki Trew? Jacki Trew trying to play Goal Defence?
Um, yeah, it was a total disaster.
My team laughed at me.
The other team laughed at me.
I laughed at me.
Then the umpire pulled me up for 'intimidation' because I was laughing at myself trying to defend. Um, what? I fail to see how me mocking myself could possibly affect the other team. I mean, apart from the fact that I have a pretty insane laugh.
Hmm...on second thoughts, that umpire was probably right.
Oh, I totally forgot to mention the other way I embarassed myself tonight! So as I was driving into the carpark at Willoughby Leisure Centre, I saw Madi getting out of her car, and she just happened to have a free spot next to her. So I drove over, ready to show her my super-wicked parking skills. This is how it went:
Jacki: (Getting out of the car) How good is my parking!
Madi: Dude, you're on two spaces
(I look down and realise I've parked the car right in the middle of two separate car spaces)
Jacki: Huh
Madi: And...I think the car is still moving!
Jacki: What? No it's not. (The car is slowly rolling towards me) Oh, yes it is!
(Here I actually tried to push the car back into place. With my hands. What? Yes - I'm an idiot!)
Mum: Jacki, you forgot to put the break on. You moron!
Hahaha. I can't wait til my driving test - even if I don't pass, at least I'll give the instructor a laugh.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Does anyone know why Sylvester Stallone has the nickname Sly?
I sure don't get it. His name isn't Slyvester. It's Sylvester.
Sylvester.
SYLVESTER!
So if anything, his nickname should be Syl.
Or Vest.
Hey, even Ter would make more sense.
But no, his name is Sylvester and he gets called Sly and I'm confused.
On a completely unrelated note, it's Wentworth's birthday tomorrow. So get ready for cake and squealing and Prison Break marathons and a celebratory text message from yours truly.
I sure don't get it. His name isn't Slyvester. It's Sylvester.
Sylvester.
SYLVESTER!
So if anything, his nickname should be Syl.
Or Vest.
Hey, even Ter would make more sense.
But no, his name is Sylvester and he gets called Sly and I'm confused.
On a completely unrelated note, it's Wentworth's birthday tomorrow. So get ready for cake and squealing and Prison Break marathons and a celebratory text message from yours truly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)