Sunday, September 26, 2010
I wake up in the morning - it's on TV.
I come home after work at night - it's on TV.
I stumble down for a toasted ham and cheese at 3am - it's on TV.
The second worst part is that it's hosted and narrated by these two British dudes. Normally I'm a huge fan of British people and all they have to offer, but these guys and their snotty accents make me wanna take those ham and cheeses I was just talking about and SHOVE them into my EARS. And the first worst part? Well it was playing this afternoon (of course it was), and I happened to catch one of the hosts talking about a couple who'd sold their family home in 2006 and spent the last 4 years trying to find another one which measured up. And then THIS happened:
Dad: Well if they loved their old family home so much, why did they move in the first place?
Jacki: Because they're dumb as fuck, that's why.
Dad: No, dear, it's okay. (Sighs heavily) She's right.
Is there anything better than the knowledge that - after tolerating two straight decades of poor language - your parents have finally given up on you?
I feel so proud.
Honestly, I can't understand why more vampire movies don't turn out like this. Sharp teeth, severed heads, and cars being lit on fire. When I think 'vampire movie', that's what I see. But apart from this one, the last THREE that I've seen have had an underlying story about - of all things - love. Please. If I wanted to sit and listen to two people pretending to fall in love, I'd just watch The Bachelor like everyone else.
I really don't have anything left to say about this movie, so now I'm going to talk about high school. Elle, Jane and I were listening to Stars the other night and thinking about how funny it would be to time-travel back to 2007 and watch our past selves struggling through year 12. Because as moronic as I am now, I'm pretty sure it doesn't hold a candle to what I was like in high school:
1) I didn't drink coffee
2) I wrote an essay on Prison Break for my HSC English exam
3) I didn't drink coffee
I'm way more smarter these days.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
He's not, but I'm an excellent actress.
Sigh. All that insanity, just wasted. I'd probably be more upset about this whole thing if my insanity supply wasn't unlimited, but still. Good one, Tom. Thanks to you, I had to spend my day at work actually working. I hate it when that happens!
Nothing springs to mind.
Monday, September 20, 2010
A Message For Navy Man Which Elle, Mischa And Julia Will Also Appreciate...Jane, You Won't Be Impressed
Headless man in business attire? Call me crazy, but I don't exactly feel threatened. It sounds like I'm mocking the hell out of this show, but really, I'm not. These are just the kinds of thoughts I have; I genuinely am this stupid. Luckily for me, I have a Navy Man who is both enough of a nerd to know the answers to all these questions, AND enough of a law-abiding citizen to know that he legally can't kill me for asking them.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
I made a real commitment to eat a proper breakfast every single day last week. Which doesn't really sound like that big of a deal, as far as real commitments go. But it will. Once I explain how my body works.
I need caffeine to live. And that pretty much sums it up. I know my driver's license classifies me as an organ doner, but I'm not so sure that it should - all they're gonna find when they cut me open is a bunch of lollypop wrappers and an empty Starbucks takeaway cup. And maybe that giant piece of strawberry bubblegum my sister convinced me to swallow when I was nine.
Anyway, you get it. So seven days of healthy eating was a pretty big deal. The only problem is that in my bid to become more healthy and less of a poster child for caffeine addiction, I've become completely dependant on breakfast food.
Trust me to take something as regular and mundane as eating breakfast and turn it into yet another ridiculous obsession. But I can't stop! You know what I had for breakfast yesterday? Cereal. And for lunch? Raisin toast. And for dinner?!? Well, I didn't have dinner, I was at a 21st. But when I got home and felt like a snack?? VEGEMITE TOAST. So, conclusion? I'm an idiot. What else is new?
Speaking of me being an idiot, I'm sitting at home on my day off right now and watching Pearl Harbour. Which, considering the fact that I'm, let's say, extremely close to not one but TWO people in the Navy is either the dumbest thing I could possibly do or...no, that's it. It's the dumbest thing I could possibly do. What, watching The Hurt Locker wasn't traumatising enough, I have to track down an actual Navy-related war movie? Where both of the main characters DIE? And sure, one of them miraculously comes back from the dead - only it's the WRONG ONE! It just goes to show that karma really is a bitch, and that you can't love two guys at once; even if you truly believe that one of them's dead. Especially if the two guys in question are childhood friends. And ESPECIALLY if there's a war going on. I don't know what other messages the director of Pearl Harbour was trying to get across, but I heard that one loud and clear.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Cher is a douche.
So yeah, Oprah Winfrey, coming to Sydney. And bringing 300 of her 'closest personal viewers' with her. If there is a better definition for oxymoron than 'closest personal viewers', I'd like to know about it. Oprah Winfrey, you are an idiot.
The worst part about this whole thing (I mean, aside from the fact that no matter which city she chooses to broadcast her show from, I will probably be able to hear her screaming at the audience from my house) is that I just heard 2 radio announcers talking about how this is "the greatest event relating to Australian tourism in the last 26 years".
Alright. I don't know where they got the figure 26 from, but that's erroneous. THE GREATEST EVENT RELATING TO AUSTRALIAN TOURISM IN THE LAST 26 YEARS??? ARE THEY KIDDING??
At first I thought they were. I even laughed. There's nothing like a little afternoon sarcasm at Oprah Winfrey's expense to put a smile on my face. But then they kept talking! Talking about how amazing it was, how fortunate it was, and how generous of Oprah Winfrey to allow our teeny tiny country to take part in her apparent quest for universal domination. I don't know who these radio announcers were, but the two of them are now about as high on my People I Need To Track Down And Kick In The Ass list as Cher. I swear to God that when one of them compared Oprah Winfrey's trip down under to the Sydney 2000 Olympics, part of me died. Really? Oprah Winfrey is the same as ours being "the best Olympics ever"? REALLY?!
Honestly - and I don't even care if this makes me sound less like a woman than the time I told my boyfriend that the easiest way to have a threesome was to 'bone a pregnant chick' - I could care less about Oprah Winfrey. OR her day-time talk show. The only way her visit to Sydney is going to ignite any amount of interest in me is if she somehow manages to transfigure herself into Wentworth Miller before she gets on the plane. I don't exactly know why I'm being so mean about this, but I'm alone, practically broke, have no idea what I'm doing with my life and still owe $900 on my car payments, so I feel like everyone should just roll with me today.
Oprah Winfrey? I don't think so. On the other hand, if it was Ellen Degeneres...
Which, by the way, I totally won.
Still. There's nothing like finding yourself on the brink of a nervous breakdown on account of something utterly trivial and meaningless to remind you that yes, you are in fact a woman.
Having breasts also helps.
On a completely unrelated note, has anyone here seen The Hurt Locker? I'm inexplicably curious about it. I don't know; something about the way it completely destroyed Avatar at the Oscars this year just makes me go hmmm...And have you seen this promotional poster??
It doesn't happen often, but whenever the words 'fire' and 'orgasm' happen to cross paths in my mind, that's what it looks like. I gotta see this movie. Which I know sounds weird, especially considering my total abhorrence for war/guns/violence, but hey. Just because I hate automatic weapons doesn't mean I won't enjoy watching some hot guy playing with one. Why do you think I found a boyfriend in the armed services? And any movie that's in direct competition with James Cameron/Avatar is pretty high on my list of priorities. I know the whole Avatar craze was almost a year ago now, but in between work, sleep, and watching every episode of Dr Who in an attempt to out-nerd The Navy Man, I don't have alot going on in my life right now.
So yeah. If you've seen The Hurt Locker, give me a call. And if you haven't, give me a call anyway. I'm so desperately lonely.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
So apparently it's September. No, not just September. It's mid-September. Would somebody care to explain how that happened? Because I sure as hell don't know. One minute it's so cold I'm toying with the idea of wearing thermals under my jeans to work, the next it's warm enough for me to start sleeping naked again.
...Which, incidentally, I love.
But still! Mid-September? That's practically October. Which is mid-Spring. And mid-Spring? That's practically Summer.
And my legs are not ready for Summer.
On the plus side, Summer does mean one thing I love even more than sleeping nude, and that's Christmas. Oh, hell yeah. Tis the season, bitches. And I am pretty effing jolly. If there's anything negative about Christmas, it's not something I'm aware of. Chocolate for breakfast, presents, fairy lights, hot weather, the giant tree at Town Hall, Jesus...say something bad about Christmas. I dare you. And on a related note, I'm currently taking gift requests. I know it's early, but getting my Christmas shopping done now means more time to lie next to my pool and do nothing later. So tell me what you want, or all you'll be getting is a hug and a home-made card.
Not that that would be such a terrible punishment.
My hugs are awesome.
The first is that I invented a new hot beverage. That's right. Step aside, Gloria Jeans, because hot chocolate and a chai latte just made a porno together, and I was holding the video camera. I call it...The Hot Chaicolate.
The second is my discovery of the 2009 horror movie The Hills Run Red. This movie is so insane, I don't even know how to begin describing it. Here's what the Foxtel synopsis box had to say:
A film fanatic's obsession with finding the complete print of an infamous horror movie leads him and his friends to the woods where the picture was shot; but will they be it's next stars?
Okay. Obviously, this is going to be incredible. But, as I always do before surrendering myself to the television for 2 or more hours, I decided to consult IMDb.com for a little more info. Not that I really needed to; not only does the title/synopsis make this film sound like the love child of Wrong Turn and The Hills Have Eyes, but it also fills all three of my "Best Shitty Horror Movie" prerequisites:
1) Takes place in the woods
2) Straight to DVD, and
3) Stars Australian pop-star-turned-actress Sophie Monk as a drug addicted stripper.
I'm only joking about that last one being a 'prerequisite'. That was just a hilariously depressing bonus. And as if that's not enough, the killer is a physically mutilated recluse who runs around the woods wearing a porcelain dolls-head mask and is known to the public as 'Babyface'.
There are no words. As you can imagine, I was pretty psyched to watch this movie. There are so many questions! Sophie Monk, really? Why does the killer always have to be physically mutilated? And which chromosomally challenged writer came up with the porcelain dolls-head idea?
I get that I'm a bit of a dunce in the intelligence department, but even I don't understand why I keep watching these movies. If it weren't for my ongoing quest to find one that actually scares me (thus proving that I am indeed human and not dead on the inside, as some have insinuated), I would totally give up on horror movies altogether. Every time I see one, it's like a little more of my faith in humanity getting flushed down the toilet.
I mean, come on. It's the 21st century. You would think that by now, people might have enough sense to stay out of the fucking woods. Or - if they really feel the need to go camping in the middle of nowhere - they should at least bring a satellite phone. And a blow torch. But no. I've lost count of how many 'We Took A Weekend Trip To The Woods And Ended Up Being Chased Around By An Axe-Wielding Maniac' movies I've seen, but they're always the same. And the characters are always dumb enough to believe that all they need to survive is a video camera and a couple of tents.
Because as we all know, when you find yourself on the run from a serial killer, the first thing you wanna do is film yourself hiding from him in a tent.
There is one thing I'll give these horror movies though, and that's that they always make me think. One thought in particular - what the hell does Babyface do during his downtime? I'm assuming that 'The Woods' aren't exactly teeming with crowds of confused but attractive teenagers waiting to be chopped into pieces. Maybe in a perfect serial killers world, but not today. So what do Babyface and The Inbred Mutants from Wrong Turn do in between mass murders? Cook? Knit? Use Polly Pocket figurines to act out their favourite scenes from Prison Break? I don't know what's more disturbing, the fact that I don't know, or the fact that I want to know. It doesn't matter. They're both overshadowed by the fact that I saw the end of the movie, and it turns out that the physically mutilated 'Babyface' is actually Sophie Monks inbred son.
It's like I said. There are no words.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
So here's a question: Would anyone like to hire me? Hmm? Of course, by 'anyone', what I really mean is 'my current boss'. And by 'hire me', all I'm really saying is 'allow me to continue working at Toni&Guy under the pretence of being a studying apprentice, when really all I do is sweep the floors, drink coffee, read gossip magazines and fantasise about the look on The Navy Man's face should he return from his posting to find that I've cut off all my hair and dyed it turquoise
FYI, I imagine that would go something like this: Better not risk it.
In other news...I got nothing. That's literally how boring my life is at the moment. Even my parents have more going on than me. Oh, well that's not entirely true - this week, I discovered two things that the rest of the world was already aware of. The first is that the Dr Who television series is legendary.
I don't know how this happened, but I have somehow become addicted to a TV show that doesn't star Wentworth Miller. And is British. And about time travel. And that doesn't star Wentworth Miller. And did I mention that since it's on at 7 in the morning, I have to get up a whole HOUR earlier than I normally would, just to watch it? So you know it's gotta be good. And unlike most of the TV I watch, you actually have to use your brain to understand it; since it's so damn complicated, I can actually feel myself getting smarter with every new episode. It's like the cheapest school ever! Plus now I'm learning shit I can actually USE, like How To Save The World Should It Be Taken Over By One Of The Last Remaining Time Lords Who Is Posing As The Prime Minister Of Britain And For Some Reason Turned The Future Human Race Into A Fleet Of Flying Robots.
Always a handy skill to have.
The second thing I've discovered is that banana bread is the most delicious food in this universe. I know (mostly in part to a childhood viewing of Moulin Rouge) I always said I'd never allow myself to fall in love, but there are some things in life you just can't fight. And the undeniable connection between myself and banana bread is one of those things. If there is a more depressing sentence in existance than the one I've just written, I'd like to know about it. And yet, I don't care. So, since I hate uni and I can't join the armed forces and I've recently decided that my current apprenticeship just isn't for me, it has become my greatest ambition in life to bake a banana bread couch, and sit on it while I watch every episode of Dr Who ever made.
Good luck to me!
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Me: Yeah. We're fully booked for the rest of the afternoon.
Random Dude: Yeah...I bet you do alot of blow jobs here, don't you?
Me: You...you mean blow dries?
Random Dude: Yeah. Yeah, that's what I meant.
Sometimes, I fucking love my job.
Friday, September 03, 2010
Well! I thought. Isn't that nice? A thoughtful warning for those of us who possess less-than-satisfactory coordination when it comes to sharp objects! If only this had come a week earlier, before I accidentally took a chunk out of my bicep with the box-cutter while unpacking an order of shampoo. But still. Very thoughtful. Very very thoughtful.
Then I took a look at the writing below the 'warning':
As in, Schibello Coffee.
As in, This box is packed with plastic bags of Schibello Coffee.
As in, This box is packed with plastic bags of Schibello Coffee; don't use a knife to cut the box, or else you will probably break one of the bags and coffee will fly everywhere.
As in, These are simple unpacking instructions. NOT a health and safety warning. Jacki Trew, you are a moron. Learn how to handle a knife, you dunce.
Ever get the feeling that you've just been outwitted by a cardboard box? It's not pleasant.