I watched Spiderman 2 the other night. Wow. Good on Tobey Maguire for sculpting those abs, but the real hero of that movie is Aunt May. Did you see the way she clocked Doctor Octavian in the side of the head with her walking stick? I don't exactly favour getting old, but if there's one thing I'm looking forward to, it's being able to bash people with a stick and get away with it.
Last week was a good one. Here's one of the reasons:
Have you ever seen anything so ridiculously...lovable? I'm the kind of heartless bitch who actually laughs during the last scene of Moulin Rouge (SPOILER ALERT: someone...dies), but even I cant look at this photo without feeling a little fuzzy inside. And that's huge, for me. Pretty much the only other thing that'll cause that reaction is Patrick Dempsey's smile. Or, you know. Tequila.
So the baby hedgehog made it a good week, but something else made it great: Alex and I ordered a set of bright red nonstick kitchen utensils off cooking.com a few weeks ago. By the way, cooking.com? It's the lonely woman's orgasm. I insist you take a look. But like I was saying: Bright red. Kitchen utensils. We were pretty excited about it...for about 30 minutes until we realised that rather than being bright red (as the description implied), they were more of a burgundy colour. Then we realised that while we'd paid $200 for our set, the website also offered similar sets for as little as $79.95. Then we got an email saying there'd been a production error and our order had been cancelled. The whole ordeal was a pain in the ass; now we had to order the stuff all over again. And to make matters worse, they only gave us half our money back. BUT THEN...
What should arrive at my house on Tuesday morning but the very pots and pans that had apparently been lost in production. Did I mention this was AFTER they'd refunded half our money? Score! Half-price pots! This (along with the fact that Tuesday was the day we found out about getting our apartment) was enough cause for celebration. But guess what arrived on Thursday?
Another set of pans.
TWO complete sets, each valued at $200...all for the low low price of 50 bucks each. See, this is why I'm not afraid of the Rapture. I don't need to be. Nothing says 'God loves you' like a brand new set of pots and pans for practically nothing. My life is incredible.
Speaking of things that make me happy which other people consider ridiculous...Masterchef. I officially retract all negative statements I may have made about this show. No, okay. Not all. I still maintain that it's not as good as My Kitchen Rules. I am a slave to Channel 7 and always will be. But Masterchef is...not so bad. Although it does kind of seem like every time I turn it on, the contestants are doing something with rabbit. Rabbit stew, rabbit mousse, rabbit pie, roast rabbit...one guy was wearing some sort of rabbit-fur hat. I think. Perhaps he just had unfortunate hair. Still. Rabbit? Here is what my Mum had to say on the matter:
Mum: When I was a kid, we ate rabbit all the time. And we turned out okay! More than okay. We turned out awesome! You kids each too much beef.
If there's one thing I'm going to miss about living at home, it's my Mother and her constant pearls of wisdom. What makes me sad about Masterchef is that as excited as I get about attempting to cook like the contestants, I know that it will always end in failure. I am a terrible cook. I know this. And I'm okay with it. I can make clothes, and I can paint nails, and I know practically every word of every song that Michael Jackson ever sung...but I can't cook for shit. This is one of the reasons I'm convinced I should never reproduce. I will make an interesting mother. My children will be the malnourished ones doing Thriller across the playground. With beautiful manicures. Unless I end up in the kind of profession which provides enough money to pay for a personal chef, there is no hope for any of us. I can't even make toast without giving someone salmonella.
Alright. So perhaps that is a slight exaggeration. I can do toast without salmonella. I may burn the house down. But no salmonella...unless the toast comes with eggs or anything. Then there's no telling what would happen.
Looking back, I have just realised that I started this post with the aim to blog about how great my week has been, and now I'm talking about how I will accidentally kill my hypothetical children with poorly-cooked chicken. Ridiculous. Have you ever noticed how Simpsons episodes often start off with one event, and end up focused on something completely different? Like, the opening scene will be the family going to Lego Land, but the rest of the episode will be about Homer's hunger strike to end prohibition? That is the perfect analogy for my blogging style. People often ask me what I blog about, or how I blog it. Now I can tell them. Right? I mean, is that a good comparison or what? I know it's a good analogy for my life, seeing as I started out like, 80% sure I knew what I wanted to do, and now I'm just a broke receptionist whos only talent is making fun of herself on the internet. If anyone knows of a way that I can make a living doing this, please enlighten me. The top two skills I have listed on my resume are: Typing: 90 words per minute, and Self-deprecating sense of humour.
You think I'm kidding?