What The Fuck, Mother Nature?

Oh my God, so long time no blog. Soz. Soz about it. Not as 'soz' as I am for just using the word soz twice within the space of one-and-a-half sentences, but still. Forgive and forget? Forget and forgive? Or I guess you could do neither and go fuck yourselves. Either way, I will continue my existance as a certifiably insane almost-hairdresser-almost-receptionist who is in the habit of constantly narrating her own life via the internet.
So it makes no difference to me.
Anyway.
So much to talk about! Can you believe how much shit has gone down since the last time I posted anything? Christmas holidays, my promotion at work, the insanity that is Queenslands weather pattern at the moment...but enough about that stuff. Let's talk about washing machines.

I'm not gonna pretend that my ongoing love affair with household appliances is a secret to anyone. Well, no, wait. Let's scratch that. Because love is such a strong word, especially when applied to someone who possesses two stale jellybeans and a lump of coal in place of a heart. Aha! I'm only kidding of course. I have a heart. Totally:

Still. The point is, I'm almost 90% sure that if I wasn't dead on the inside and actually did harness the ability to feel human emotion...well, the first thing on my Love List would be household appliances. Namely those with a high-powered motor. Namely namely, washing machines. What? Why? Well, mainly because of this:

Holy shit stain. Did you guys see that? Did you see it? Yeah. But just in case, lets see it again:

I don't know if that's the best video I've seen on YouTube. I don't even know if it's the best thing I've seen this week. But I'm pretty sure I just orgasmed, twice. And in the unlikely event that I ever save enough money to actually buy my own washing machine, I sure as hell know how I'm celebrating.
You're all invited.

So anyway. If you live in Sydney like me, you might have heard talk recently about this heatwave we're having. Hmmm? Yes? Heard talk? Alternatively, you may have stepped outside your airconditioned house at any point during the last five days and found yourself bursting into flame.
What. The fuck. Mother Nature?
Please explain. This heat is getting ridiculous. I've spent the past four nights sleeping naked on our living room floor. Why? Well because it's made of tiles, and tiles are cool. And because there's a hole in our blow-up mattress, so I couldn't sleep in the pool like I'd originally planned.
I don't deal well with extreme heat. I can't really explain why; it might have something to do with me being 40% tequila and 60% coffee, but who knows. Regardless, I haven't been well this week. And by 'haven't been well', what I really mean is 'you don't wanna go into our upstairs bathroom....for a while.'
The worst part is that my Mum is being totally unsympathetic about the whole thing. Really! She's all "Get up!" and "Drink some water!" and "Go to work!" and "When I was a kid, there was no such thing as air conditioning, and we had a tar pit instead of a swimming pool, and if one of my friends burst into flame they didn't COMPLAIN about it, they just bloody well hosed themselves off in the backyard!"
Well sorry, Mum. But we can't all grow up in the west. I heard last night was the hottest Sydney night on record...since they started making records. There is literally nothing anyone can say that will trump that. I don't care if you were trying to light a cigarette one-handed and accidentally set your own head on fire; unless you were in Sydney, there's no way you were as uncomfortable as me last night. Thankfully, I also heard that there's a cold front coming in this afternoon. All I gotta say about that is, it better be coming - because I actually watched an episode of The Real Houswives of Atlanta this morning...and ENJOYED it. Clearly, the heat is affecting my mental health.