Tuesday, December 14, 2010
I don't know which words'll describe how sick I'm feeling right now, but "as a dog" just isn't gonna cut it. What animal gets sicker than a dog? Cat? Ferret? Great White Shark with a rope around its tail being dragged backwards though the Pacific Ocean?
That'll do it.
I'm sick as a Great White Shark with a rope around its tail being dragged backwards through the Pacific Ocean. And for the second time in one week? Let me explain...
In a bid to gain some semblance of culinary skill that - no point in lying about it - I can use to impress The Navy Man next time he's over for dinner, I've become a little more creative with my cooking lately. I don't know what made me think I could get away with this. Really? Really I'm the kind of person who shouldn't even be allowed IN a kitchen, let alone left in charge of any meal which doesn't involve the words "ham" and "sandwich". And I learnt this the hard way, on Saturday night, when my attempt at Thai red curry and rice with brocolli and potatoes left me wrapped around the toilet at 2 in the morning.
Naturally, I decided to try again last night. And the results? Well on the plus side, I can now modify my potential career search to exclude the entire food industry. Or any industry involving chickens. On the negative side though...well, you can guess the negative side.
Monday, December 06, 2010
Well...pretty much, anyway.
So then came around 24 hours of very official Navy business which I'm not allowed to talk about. "Very official Navy business which I'm not allowed to talk about" here meaning "My parents read this blog, do you really think I'm going to post all the details of a reunion that was 3 months in the making on the internet?". No, no I'm not.
On Thursday morning I - by some miracle - actually got to work on time. And then it was only 8 and half hours of towel-folding hell until Thursday night, AKA Alex's birthday celebrations at the pub, which may or may not have lasted until 230 in the morning and culminated with all of us being forcibly removed from The Longueville Hotel. May or may not. I'm not saying anything. But, uh, yeah, they kicked us out. And it was hilarious.
On Friday I had work again, and this time was surprised at about 3 in the afternoon with a little visit from The Navy Man himself. The Navy Man himself and 2 huge bunches of flowers. The Navy Man himself and 2 huge bunches of flowers and one of them was for Alex because it was her birthday. Did I mention that this was a surprise? Or that The Navy Man and Alex have never actually met before? Yes, I hit the jackpot alright. If you didn't already hate me for penning such a ridiculous blog, you might want to start now for somehow snagging the Macquarie Dictionary's definition of a perfect man. Don't believe me? Well you will. Because on Saturday night I went to a dress-up 21st as (who else?) Lady GaGa:
And he went as my backup dancer.
Check. And. Mate.