Whats the deal with vampire leg hair anyway?

This is my though process while watching Today Tonight:

Ok. Ok, boring. This isn't even news. I swear, Today Tonight is like the Greenwich Public School newsletter. It was only one page. ONE PAGE!! Roseville wrote a freaking book each week. And the name - News and Views? I didn't see any news in there. Once there was a report about pencil grips. I swear.

So Matthew White is pretty much the host of Today Tonight now, huh? What happened to Anna Coren? Does anyone else think its funny that 'Matthew White' rhymes with 'Today Tonight'? Does anyone else think its funny that I know the past 3 hosts of Today Tonight, but there are days when I can't even remember how old I am?

Oh. Weather. I see Today Tonight is trying to be cool and hip and modern by playing music over the weather these days. Well its not working. The weather is as boring and inaccurate as ever. But I do like this song - it always reminds me of Twilight.

I love Twilight. And Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen.

Where am I again? Oh yeah, living room.

For the longest time I saw Edward Cullen with black hair. You know, before the movie came out. Black hair? What was I thinking? They clearly describe it as 'russet' coloured. Whatever russet is. I don't know, but it sure doesn't sound like black.

I wonder if Rob Pattinson's hair will have grown back by the next movie.

What's the deal with vamp hair, anyway? Does it get dirty? Do they have to wash it? Does it grow? And, if it does grow, how do they cut it? Isn't every part of them supposed to be indestructable?

What about vampire leg hair? Its ok for the guys, but what about the girls? Can they shave it? Or is it indestructable too?

And thats it. That's where it ended. I'm still there - I've been stuck on vampire leg hair for the past 6 HOURS AND 11 MINUTES. I need to know! It's killing me!!
I think the only solution, really, is to write to Stephenie Meyer and ask her. Or you know, I could just ask Edward Cullen, who is waiting for me in my bedroom.

So it's been a really nice 4 years, but...

I think I've decided to stop blogging.
Ha! Kidding. That was a total lie. I just wanted to send my many readers into a panic. You know, all one of you - hi mum!

Ok so to make up for telling that lie, here are two things that are very much true:
1) I just ate 6 plain Saos in a row, and then had to drink like a whole litre of water to cancel out the dryness factor. Damn you, Arnotts!
2) On wednesday night I have my first competitive game of netball in like 18 months. Oh, man. This is going to be amusing. The most exercise I've gotten in the past year is walking from the couch to the pantry and back.
Plus you know playing in halves is going to make it harder - we USED to play in quarters. At least then I had a chance. Now I have to move constantly for 25 minutes? Are you kidding?
Sigh.
I have to get my ass to the gym. Just my ass though - the rest of me is perfect.
No, that's a lie. The rest of me needs surgery.
Still, I wouldn't mind going to the gym. It's fun to name the different work-out machines. Then, as soon as you walk through the doors, you can sprint towards the one you want, screaming "I bags Susan! She's mine!! Hey, back off lady, she's MINE!!"
You know, not that I've ever done that.
MY machine of choice was always Linda.

Here is a photo of my new tattoo, and an amusing story to go with it:

Ok. So here's the photo:

And here's the amusing story:

The guy didn't know how to spell peace. Yeah. He didn't know how to spell peace. I didn't get it. There was a guy before me, he wanted to get 'griffen' tattooed real big across his shoulders, and the dude who was doing his tattoo (who, coincidentally, was the same guy who did my first tattoo) was like "Griffen? G-R-I-F-F-E-N?", and when the guy was like "Yeah, thats right", he was still like "E-N? Not A-N, right?".

That, I get. I mean, who has even heard of griffen? Or griffan.

But peace?

So he is behind the counter, and calls out to me "How to you spell peace? It is P-E-A-S-E?"

And there was this silence, and then I looked at him and go "...No...It's P-E-A-C-E"
And then like 3 people laughed.
Dammit! I was so not nervous until this point! Screw the pain, what if this guy writes Pease on my skin???

Sigh. Whatever. I got over it.

UNTIL HE DID IT AGAIN!!

I am not even kidding! While he was putting the transfer on, he's all "C-E, right?"

And then laughs!

It wouldn't be that bad, except for the fact that its on the back of my neck, so I can't even see it before he does it. I just had to rely on Gemma and Catherine's opinion. So a good friend would scrutinise the transfer, and give an honest judgement.

That's what Gemma did.

A bad friend would do what Catherine did:

Me: (turning to show the transfer) So it is in the middle? It's even? Should I get him to do it?

Catherine: Ohhh, ummm, yeah. It's pretty much in the middle

Me: (incredulously, and to the amusment of the other customers) Pretty much in the middle, or in the middle?

Catherine: (laughing)

Ugh! She is so getting her head shaved while she's asleep tonight.

Here's something funny that just happened:

I'm tap tap tapping away on my computer, you know, fussing around the internet looking for something amusing, and I came across a photo of Saddam Hussein (don't ask how).

Me: Dude. How much does Saddam Hussein look like dad?
Catherine: (Looks at photo) Oh. Yeah!

Final Five

Ok, because I'm bored and lame and unoriginal, I've decided that each week, after I've seen the first interview on Rove, I'll answer the same final five questions that they had to answer.

On my blog.

So maybe one day Rove will come across it, and hire me or something.

Also before I start I feel like I have to mention I just realised the last four letters of Rove's name are ANUS.

Hahahaha.

Ok, here we go: (by the way, these questions were originally for Zac Efron)

Who did you have posters of on your wall when you were growing up?

I think my first ever bedroom wall poster was of The Backstreet Boys, but my sister graffitied it (she wrote 'loser' on Aj's forehead) with permenant marker. Bitch. So then I went through a Leonardo phase - Di Caprio, not Da Vinci (there's a little Notting Hill humour for you Hugh Grant fans).

What's the weirdest rumour you've ever heard about yourself?

Oh man, there are so many, I can't even choose. You know, me being famous and all that. One time I heard I was engaged to Wentworth Miller. Pfft. Who would even start something like that? Oh yeah, me.

What was your nickname in school?

Oh this is creative - Jackass.

What do you have a secret fear of?

This is tough. I have fears, but none of them are secret. They're all so ridiculous, yet I feel the need to tell everyone about them. Lets see. Cockroaches. Sharks in my pool. Rubber gloves that have been turned inside out. Being publically shunned by Wentworth Miller. Etc etc.

What's the first thing you think of when you see this:

My childhood.

I get that I'm weird, but there's thing one thing about me that I just can't figure out.
You know how when a bus is accelerating, it makes that really loud noise?
Like a regular engine, I guess, but like a thousand times louder?
I.
HATE.
That noise.
Not just like "I would prefer not to hear that".
No no.
I mean "I would chase down that bus, slash all the tires and strangle the driver if it weren't both illegal and physically impossible".
I can tell that when I'm old and senile and unable to stop myself from doing crazy stuff in public, I'm going to stand at busstops shaking my fist at every bus that goes past. Thats all I'll do. All day. Maybe take a lunch break, but basically, the bus thing will be my life.
Mmm.
Well.
Something to look forward to.

Attack of the microwaved chicken

I'm a pretty big idiot. Especially when it comes to microwaves.
Ok, so my mum is always at me to cover my food before I put it in the microwave. You know.

Remember to cover it with gladwrap, otherwise it'll splatter everywhere, and if it does, I'm cleaning it up with your face.

Or whatever.
Still. I never cover my food, for 2 main reasons:
1) The whole point of a microwave is to heat food up quickly, right? So if I spend all this time gladwrapping and shiz, it defeats the whole purpose. I may as well just use the freaking oven. And;
2) If you cover a bowl or whatever with gladwrap, it forms this, like, food-cave, which fills up with hot hot steam in the microwave. No, that wasnt a typo. I meant to say hot twice. I want you to know how hot it is. Anyway, then when you're done microwaving, and you try to get the gladwrap off, all the steam like, rushes out and sears your skin. Yum.
Anyway long story short, I never gladwrap before microwaving.
I know. Rebel without a cause or what? And usually it all works out fine. Except for today, when the universe decided to come back and bite me in the ass for all those times I was so ruthless with the microwave. Or maybe it was just a freak microwaving incident. Whatever, all I know is that it was definitely blogworthy*

So its lunchtime and I'm hungry. I found some leftover butter chicken in the fridge so I shove it in the microwave (without covering it) for like 2 minutes. Then, as I'm heading away from the kitchen, I put a piece in my mouth and bite down, and it like - I kid you not - EXPLODES in my mouth, and all this hot steam shoots out the left side and burns the inside of my cheek.
I think its pretty lucky that nobody else was home, and that neither of my animals were in the room, since the next thing I did was open my mouth, spit the piece of chicken onto the floor and start screaming.
And when I say 'screaming', I really mean 'making a noise that can only be described as a cross between a woman in labor and a dog being violently ill'.
Oh, and the whole time I was kind of hunched over in pain. I only wish there had been a mirror nearby, because I'm guessing it looked pretty hilarious.

The worst part though, is that not only could I not eat that chicken, since I was scared all of the pieces might be secret-steam-bombs, but now all the skin on the inside of my mouth that got burnt is coming off. So any time I try to eat anything, all I can taste is skin.
And fear.
Fear of being attacked by microwaved chickens.

*My opinion of 'blogworthy' may differ greatly from that of other, more sane individuals. I mean come on, I wrote like 2 pages about Stanley Tucci last night.

The Core

Ok.
So one random afternoon, like 6 years ago, Julia and I sat down in her living room after school and turned on the TV, and there was some crazy end-of-the-world type movie on. Let me tell you - I love end-of-the-world movies. I am all about end-of-the-world movies. But since we had to trek down to the primary school and coach a bunch of 9 year olds on how to play netball, we couldn't watch all of it. The only thing we saw was London getting attacked by a flock of frenzied pidgeons - it was enough to get me hooked.
Then, a year or 2 later, I was on holidays in Sabah, and I turned on the TV in our hotel room - guess what I saw - that very same scene, with the birds attacking London!! And as luck would have it, everyone else in my family was either asleep, reading or in the shower, so I sat through 2 hours of cinematic genius, otherwise known as The Core.
So obviously, when I saw that The Core was on TV tonight, I pretty much freaked. I mean, right out. I was psyched for this movie. So 830 rolls around, I'm parked on the couch with a can of Red Bull and Twilight (you know, for the commercials)...and it starts.

Oh.
One thing before I go on...you should know, I have a certain penchant for really bad movies.
You know?
Like, Space Jam. Or Boogeyman.
Oh, and has anyone else seen that movie where those kids from Hawaii build a solar-powered car and then enter it in a race across the Simpson Desert? It was awesome!


So, that said...
Here's why you should all watch The Core:

• Its got all these really good actors, but it still turned out terrible. Aaron Eckhart, Hilary Swank, Stanley Tucci - and I love me some Stanley Tucci. Also, Hilary Swank? If theres something that amuses me more than almost anything else, its when someone wins an Oscar, then makes a movie like The Core.
• The CGI is really dodgy. Like, in that first scene? You have all these animated birds crashing into shop fronts and car windows and stuff, and then you noticed that one of them is actually a fish. No joke. I'm no genius, but even I know the different between a bird and a fish. This was no bird.
• It has that guy who sucks up to Dr Kelso on Scrubs in it. You know, that random doctor who follows Kelso around in some episodes? And Dr Cox likes to make jokes about how he's "elbow deep in Dr Kelso's Colon"?? He's totally in this movie! For like, 8 seconds. For some reason, the sun becomes super hot, but only to people living in San Francisco (they don't have to explain, its an end-of-the-world-movie thing), anyway Dr Suckup is sitting in his car with his arm out the window and it, like, gets seared off the by sun.
• They have the most idiotic one liners. Like, they are in the ship, heading towards the core of the earth, and they see these giant diamonds everywhere. And the main guy goes "Diamonds? I want some!"
• The writers think the audience are morons. Like at the beginning, when the two main characters are trying to explain to this panel of super-scientists why the earth is going crazy and shiz - they do this big speech, most of it is scientific jargon, yadda yadda yadda, but you get the gist; the core of the earth has stopped spinning, so the protective atmosphere that surrounds it is going to collapse and all this bad stuff is gonna go down, y'all. So, ok, we get it. The scientists get it, the writers get it, we get it. Then, obviously for our benefit, the main guy goes: "Imagine this peach is the earth". And then lights the peach on fire. Right. First of all? No. And second of all, thats not even what would happen! They'd just spent the last, like, 10 minutes talking about super storms and earthquakes and how everything electronic was going to start failing. Then its like hmm, how to explain this to the idiots....Earth goes boom!
• There is a love story. I know. You cant have an end-of-the-world movie without a love story. Why save the world if you're just going to end up alone anyway, right?

I was going to write more, but then I realised how long this post has gotten - people are busy these days, uni, work and whatnot.
On the other hand, I'm not sure that anyone reads this anyway, so does it really matter? Well, yes, because theres a crappy Nicholas Cage movie starting in like 45 minutes and I don't want to miss it.

today, for the very last time, I...

Got a tattoo.
No, really. I think this is the last one. I think I'm done. For two reasons, mostly.
First of all, it hurts like a wanky tit basket, and second of all, I can't think of anything else I would want to get.
I mean, apart from Voldemort's face on the back of my shaved skull. But I think that's going to be pretty pricey, so I'll give it a miss.

Ok, so getting a tattoo is always fun no matter what, but this particular visit was pretty freaking awesome. My favourite parts:
1) When this guy came in, and he had a completely shaved head, and then this seedy seedy rats tail (I mean this thing was disgusting. It was like 10 inches long. And plaited!) and me and Gem loudly discussed what would be more fun, pulling it really hard, or just chopping it off
2) When this, like, 45 year old woman wearing a business suit and pearls came in, and you could tell everyone was thinking 'wow, most unlikely person to get a tattoo ever', and then I said it out loud
3) When I forgot how old I was

Let me explain the last one. Ok, so there is this guy that has done some of my tattoos called Brett, and every time I go there, he asks to see my ID, since, I dont know, I guess he doesn't believe I'm 18.
Whatever.
Anyway, so I told him what I wanted and then he looks at me and frowns and goes 'how old are you?'
And I go 'Umm...' and then PAUSED because I actually had forgotten.
Then I went 'Um, 18'
Then there was like 2 seconds of silence, and then I go 'NO, WAIT, 19!!'.
Then I did this crazy manic laugh, and say 'I forgot! I just had a birthday!'

(ok, and I know I said I was turning 18 again this year, AND I STILL AM, its just that I figured I better not lie to the man with the tattoo gun, since, you know, he really could tattoo Voldemort's face on me. Because, you know, I was just kidding when I said I wanted to get that)

Anyway, so by this point, pretty much everyone (including Gemma and Chate) are looking at me like I'm crazy, which I am, but come on, the look just isn't necessary.

Ok, on a completely different note, did anyone watch Home and Away last night? Can you answer me this question? IS THAT MARTHA'S REAL HAIR? Really? Really? I mean, yes, the headscarf was getting a little ridiculous since she had chemo like 2 years ago, so them trying to pretend she is still bald is pretty unrealistic.
But this? This...bowl cut?
I hope for her sake its a wig.

Happy 18th Birthday To Me

No, thats not a typo.
I didn't feel like getting older this year, so I decided to turn 18.
Again.
That is, for the second time. So spread the word.

pant attack

Don't you love it when you find someone who has the same totally irrational fear as you?
Like, just now.
I found out that Ellen, like me, hates wearing pants to bed, because when shes asleep, she, like me, tosses and turns and gets all tangled up. Then, like me, she wakes up in a panic:

HELP! HELP! SOMETHING HAS MY LEGS!!
Oh.
It's just my pants.

So, now I have this theory that I'm actually NOT crazy.
Like, I write about all this crap on my blog that makes me seem crazy, but the truth is, the kinds of things that happen to me actually happen to EVERYONE - I'm just the only one who admits it.
Oh.
Wait.
Does admitting it make me crazy?
It probably wouldn't, except that I admit it all over the internet.

On a totally different note, I just found a photo of the impossible: somebody uglied up Edward Cullen.
Oh, alright. I'm being a tad harsh: if you scroll down so his face isn't visible, it's pretty hot.

so much to tell you

Hey, remember me?
I used to be a girl who blogged alot. Now I'm just a girl.
I think I'd like to be that first girl again.

So the reason I've been AWOL for so long...No, wait, stop.
I have to admit something: I don't know what AWOL means. I mean, I know the gist of it, like it means I've been missing for a while, right? I just don't know what it stands for. Which wouldn't be such a huge deal, except that my mum has told me what it stands for, at least 206,000 times.
Yeah.
206,000.
No, I lied. She's probably only told me 10 times, if that.
BUT.
Now I'm so annoyed at myself for not know what AWOL stands for, that I'm going to google it.
So here I go.
*is googling AWOL*

Alright.
AWOL = Absent WithOut Leave.

Now, back to regular conversation.
I mean, what we were talking about before I went crazy on AWOL.
So, I've been away for a week or so. I was feeling kind of bad about not blogging, but my loving sister Catherine assured me there was no need, since 'nobody reads that crazy crap anyway.'

Well. Thankyou, Catherine, for putting my fears at ease. However, I beg to differ, because I know for sure there are at least two other people who read this blog. AND I know three whole people who have read my book. So what if one of them is my Mum?
Anyway, like I said in the heading, there is so much to tell you, but I'm going to start another post to do it, since this one's filled up with AWOL and my sister.

I don't know if I've talked about this yet, but I've been having some really wacked-out dreams lately.
I mean really crazy stuff.
So I'm trying to decide which one out of these two is more disturbing:

DREAM A
Life is pretty much the same as always, except Julia is dating Zac Efron, and we all live on a PnO cruise boat. So Zac comes up to me to ask for advice on how to propose to Julia - which he plans on doing with a blue engagement ring. And when I say 'blue engagement ring' I don't mean 'regular engagement ring, except that the stone is blue'. I mean 'the whole ring was blue, like it was made out of raspberry flavoured bubblegum or something.'
Anyway.
So I'm pretty blown away by this bubblegum-looking engagement ring, and I give Zac the advice, we talk for a while, blah blah blah, then I realise that the whole time, Zac has been wearing a dress. And not any dress, a kind of beige-y babydoll dress, which I happen to own in real life. So Zac is wearing my dress, and I'm wearing a blue version of my dress, then suddenly my friend Robbie appears, and he's wearing a green version of my dress. So we all look at each other, realise the whole dress situation (and get excited about it), then link arms and skip off to find Julia, so Zac can propose to her - in front of me and Robbie I guess.

DREAM B
I'm playing Peyton on an episode of One Tree Hill, and I have to make out with Pete Wentz from FallOut Boy.

Ok, so obviously its the second one.
What I'd like to know is, if I have to have celebrities in my dream, why can't I have the ones I actually like? I mean, Zac Efron and Pete Wentz?
It's not like I hate them, but come on, subconcious, would it kill you to throw a little Wentworth in?
Ah, whatever.
Right?

In my last post I said I had nothing interesting to blog about today. But luckily, while I was typing that, something awesome happened:

Scene: Catherine, who has just finished having a shower, pokes her head out of the bathroom door. I am sitting on the couch with my laptop

Catherine: Hey Jacki?
Jacki: (Still typing, not looking up) Yeah?
Catherine: Can you do me a favour?
Jacki: (Looks up) What?
Catherine: Umm...I left all my clothes in my room, so can you close your eyes while I run naked across the lounge room?
Jacki: Sure, I'll just keep blogging (Eyes go back to computer screen)
...
I lied.
So Catherine is halfway to her room, and she sees me laughing at her and her blatant nakedness. I mean. Just being naked is funny. Being naked and running across a room?

Hey. I don't really have anything interesting to blog about today, but I like the sound my keyboard makes when I type.
Here is a picture that never fails to make me laugh:

Hahaha.
See? It never fails.

I've just discovered one of the funnest words in the English language to say is pancetta.
Pancetta.
I've also just discovered that pancetta is not recognized by the Blogger Dictionary as an actual word. Hmm. Weird.
Anyway, back to pancetta. I was watching that episode of Friends where they go to England for Ross and Emily's wedding, and this waiter offers some food to Joey, more specifically, some "goats cheese, watercress and pancetta."
The way he says pancetta is awesome.
Its like pan-CHETTA!
It got me so excited, I actually went downstairs and looked in the pantry to see if we had any pancetta. If we did, I was going to grab it, bring it back upstairs and offer it to Catherine. I was hoping the conversation would go something like this:

Want some?

What is it?

Pan-CHETTA!

But we didn't have any. Oh well.

I don't know if it's because I've been watching so much Alias lately, but -
No. Scratch that. Let me start again.
I've been watching so much Alias lately that I have this idea in my head: Jennifer Garner and I should be friends. And not just because I think she's cool - I feel like she would also want to be friends with me. Like she would just get me, you know?
I really have no idea why I think this - she's a beautiful, accomplished actress with two kids and the ability to roundhouse kick bad guys in the face.
I'm...Jacki Trew.
But still. Here's how I think our first conversation would go:

Jacki: Jennifer Garner!
JenniferGarner: Jacki!
Jacki: You know my name?
JenniferGarner: Of course! I read your blog!
Jacki: Hey, thats cool. I read yours too.
JenniferGarner: I don't have a blog.
Jacki: Oh. Well if you did, I'd read it.
JenniferGarner: Haha. That's funny. You're funny. I'll make sure to tell your sister that. Want to write a movie together?
Jacki: Kay!

And so on, and so forth.
It's probably no surprise that I also feel like Wentworth Miller and I would get along. Here's how that first conversation would go:

WentworthMiller: Hi Jacki. I love you. Would you like to marry me?
Jacki: Yes, please.

So hey, Jen, Went. If you're reading - and lets face it, you probably are - don't be shy, give me a shout.

Telethons

You know what I really enjoy?
Telethons.

You know, those televised charity events, where people ring up and donate money? And they always have some obnoxious CEO like Eddie McGuire hosting, while a dozen actually likeable and popular celebrities sit in the background taking calls?
They're fun.

It's especially fun to watch telethons with Catherine. It makes me feel like a better person. Mainly because she says things like this:

Catherine: Hey Jacki, some idiot only donated twelve bucks! What is that?!
Jacki: (Poking head out of bathroom door) Hey, its better than nothing.
Catherine: Still, I can't believe they even announced it. I mean, twelve dollars? Stupid ten year old!

Um. Yeah.
The other thing I love about telethons is that they scroll the names of all the people donating along the bottom of the screen. Since I have probably the most boring and generic name in the world, this always entertains me. Like on tonights telethon, one of the pledger's names was Joanna McSwean.
McSwean.
Hahaha.
Even better, there was somebody called - and I kid you not - Tell Abid Nod Ella Huck. I wondered if this was a real person, or just some teenage boys pranking. I suggested the prank theory to Catherine, who got all excited, and said we should call up and donate 20 bucks from Alotta Vagina.
...
Alotta. Vagina.
She is such an idiot.

Family Obligation

Sometimes I get this feeling that the only reason Catherine talks to me is because my parents force her to.

"Catherine, be nice to your sister."

"But Mum, she's a complete moron!"

"I know dear, but it's less awkward if we pretend to like her."

Most of the time, I don't understand - I mean, I'm DELIGHTFUL. Like, once I made Catherine a boat shaped cake, to congratulate her on finishing a sailing regatta. Or there's that time I helped wash her car. And I'm not gonna even tell you how many times I've emptied the dishwasher when it was her turn to.
Whatever.
It's actually pretty fortunate for Catherine that I'm always following her around, since it means she never misses my Funny Moments. Like this little gem, which happened last night:

Catherine and I are watching Alias, more specifically, the scene where everyone goes to Vaughn's funeral.
Oh. Um. Spoiler Alert.
So like 6 guys are carrying the casket out of the church, and I go

'Man. Vaughn is so hot - it should have been Open Casket.'

Oh, yeah - I forgot to say. With me, 'Funny Moments' and 'Incredibly Offensive Moments' often cross over. Whatever. It was still funny.

So my Mum just called me and told me that she accidentally ran over a cop on her way to work this morning, and now we have to move to Alice Springs and be fugitives.
Ha.
Only kidding.
What would you guys do if I had to move to Alice Springs? Probably nothing. I mean, they have computers there, so its not like I would stop blogging. Plus Fugitive Blogs would be more interesting than Regular Blogs - If I was actually a fugitive, I'd be getting shot at, and having to push cars into bottomless ravines and stuff, but since I'm not, all I do these days is watch Alias and go to driving lessons.
Speaking of driving lessons, I'm about to have one. Good luck to my instructor. Or should I say, good luck to me, since my instructors Scottish accent is so strong that I can't understand anything he says. Oh well. Here's to hoping I don't run over any (more) cops!

Best. Episode. Ever.

I'm watching a rerun of Project Runway at the moment. Its a really old episode, the one where they have to make a cozzi that you could also wear to a club. Who comes up with these ideas?
Anyway, as I'm watching it, I realise this is probably the most hilarious episode of Project Runway that I've ever seen:
First of all, they only have 5 hours to make this thing. 5 hours? It takes me longer than 5 hours to put a cozzi on, let alone make one. Ok, thats kind of a lie, but you get what I mean. So the designers somehow finish their outfits on time to put the models in them, and take them to this party being hosted by Page 6 writer Richard Johnson.
Richard Johnson. The guys name is Richard. Johnson.
COME ON!! The guys name is Dick Dick! That's just bad parenting right there.
So Dick Dick is supposed to judge all the outfits, and then pick out his favourite one. I love the moment where he's introduced to designer Jay, whose bikini looks like a gay S&M costume. No, really - it has leather straps and everything.
Oh! You know what else I love about this show? The models. Especially the season one models - those bitches are crazy, yo! Especially at this party, since pretty much all of them got plastered and humiliated themselves AND their designers. Like, Robert is talking to Dick Dick about how he's always wanted to be a designer and 'just loves to dress women', when his model, Olga, wanders over and slurs 'What, Robert, you don't like them naked?'. Then she teetered off, probably to pass out on a couch in the background somewhere. Oh well.
One of the most entertaining models in the whole competition is Melissa, since she's only 16, but acts like a 40 year old. But not a normal 40 year old - one of those over-botoxed gold digging 40 year olds who live in California and marry movie directors. You know what I'm talking about. Anyway so 16 year old Melissa is giving a lap dance to poor Dick Dick, who's expression reads somewhere between 'Oh boy! This is the most action I've had in months!' and 'I really can't afford to get arrested for statutory again.' Then Melissa gets bored, and launches herself onto the dancefloor with her designer, Austin, where the two of them perform a dance routine which kind of resembles a Mexican bull fight - only instead of a red flag, Melissa used her faux fur capelet.
And that's when I decided it was the best episode of Project Runway ever.

Recently, I discovered probably one of the most entertaining shows on TV: The Real Housewives of Orange County.
It's fantastic. It's up there on my list of Best Crappy Reality Shows - watch out, Bridezillas, you've got a contender for the throne.
I especially love watching it with Catherine, because she pretends to think its stupid, but she'll sit through a whole hour of it anyway. She loves it. We both love it. Our favourite Housewife is Vicki, mainly because every episode she gets drunk and humilates herself somehow. Also because she's had so much botox that her face kind of resembles a pig mask. If pig masks were to exist - maybe they do, who knows? I've never dressed up as a pig on Halloween, but I'm sure some freak going through a Lord of the Flies phase has. Whatever.

The best episodes are the reunion episodes, because all the 'Wives end up fighting with each other, while Andy Cohen - the Bravo Watch What Happens host guy - sits in the middle looking terrified. Then, when he tries to mediate, they all turn on him.
I love it.
Also, its great because you don't have to watch it from the very beginning to get into it. Mainly because the same things happen every episode:

• Vicki will get drunk
• Lauri will spend another $1,000,000 on her wedding
• Jeana will bitch about how she's not losing any weight, then consume an entire chocolate slab cake
• Somebody's son will be arrested
• Somebody's son will get a tattoo
• Someone will get divorced
• Quinn will go on another awkward date with her almost-boyfriend Billy
• Tamra will tell someone that she's 'The hottest housewife in Orange County'

So there. Now you know enough to go get addicted yourselves.

The other day I experienced watermelon perfection:


I know, right?
While I was waiting for that photo to upload, I decided to compile a list of all the things that absolutely infuriate me. Here it is:

1) The Blogger photo-uploading system

Thats as far as I got. As soon as I typed that, I got so angry that I couldn't go any further. I just punched the computer screen, then went to get some juice.

Last night I was really bored, and the only thing on TV was an episode of Baywatch that I'd already seen, so I decided to do what I always do when I'm bored and the only thing on TV is an episode of Baywatch that I've already seen - stalk people over the internet. That's how I found this thread about guy who once worked at Burger King for 15 days, and has now vowed to never eat Fast Food again.
It kind of reminded me of the time I worked at Bakers Delight. Only I'm an idiot, so rather than escaping after 15 days, I stayed for 12 months. Whatever.
I think probably I could have sued Bakers Delight. First of all there was the whole 'less than minimum wage' issue. Also, what employer forces a 14 year old girl to clean a 6ft tall oven with industrial solvent? The kind thats looking for jail time, I guess.

Does anyone else remember that one pair of sneakers that I absolutely refused to part with? I mean it. I had these things for like 6 years. I loved them. I wore them all the time - every sports carnival, every p.e lesson, every netball game. Even when the soles wore through, I still wore them. I just put electrical tape over the holes.
Probably most of you are wondering 'Wow. You put electrical tape over the holes in the bottoms of your shoes? Did that work?'
No, it didnt work. One time I got into the car after netball and realised my feet were bleeding.
...
Yeah. That might be the worst story I've ever told.

Last night I had a dream I was at school.
But it wasn't one of those 'I was at school, but it wasn't really school, it was a PnO cruise ship. And the principle didn't look like the principle, she looked like this creepy kind of overweight stalker chick who was once in an episode of Bones, but she was still the principle, you know what I mean? Anyway, then a stage erupted out of the ground and we were suddenly all in the middle of a Rolling Stones concert, which was awesome, because I always wanted to see if Mick Jagger's legs really are as skinny in real life as they look on tv' kind of dreams. It was pretty much just like any other day at school.
Things happened in the dream that would really happen at school. Like, we had modern, and I talked through the whole thing, Mr Obrien was creepy and kind of child-like, and Jess and I snuck out to Chatswood during our free period to buy hot chips.
The only thing that was out of the normal was that I had to wear glasses. Like, prescriptive ones. Which was actually really fun since they were the thick framed rectangular type, kind of like the ones Martin Scorsese wears, only the insides were rainbow and stripey. So now if I ever have to get glasses, I know which kind I want.
The only class we didnt have was English, which might seem weird because we used to have English every day, but it isnt really, because anyone who knows me knows I always used to fall asleep in English. And I mean, falling asleep in a dream? Isn't that like being in a coma? I think my subconcious was just trying to save me from myself. Huh.

Anyway then I woke up and watched some of The Grammys. Here's the list of what I dont understand about The Grammys:
1. Why does everyone always make fun of them? Like, they don't really mean anything? Remember that episode of The Simpsons where Homer wins a Grammy, and when he tries to give it away, the guy goes 'Oh, cool, an award statue...ohhh, it's just a Grammy', and then throws it away? I dont get it!
2. Why was Paris Hilton invited?

I hope tonight I dream about being at The Grammys, and Paul McCartney coming up to me and answering both of these questions.
And then inviting me to perform with him on stage.

Ephipany: I am annoying

Here's how I know I'm annoying:

Mum: Hey. How was your day?
Me: Well... (Here, sensing that I'm about to launch into one of my 'rants', Mum kind of tunes out)...so, the dishwasher got emptied - and then filled up with dirty dishes from around the house, the washing got brought in, my room was vacuumed and the recycling was taken out. I wonder who did all that? I'll give you a clue - IT WASN'T CATHERINE!
Mum: Hmm, is that right, sound nice..
Me: Mu-u-uuum

And thats when I realised.
Oh. My. Gosh.
I do that irritating stretch-the-word-out-so-it-has-as-many-syllables-as-possible-to-get-attention thing.
...
And here's the thing about the irritating stretch-the-word-out-so-it-has-as-many-syllables-as-possible-to-get-attention thing - ITS ANNOYING!

Oh. And I also do stuff like this:

Me: (Cutting into a watermelon) Oh snap...Catherine!
Catherine: Jacki, I'm watching a movie
Me: Catherine! Catherine! Seriously!!
Catherine: Jacki! Shut UP! I'm watching a movie
Me: Dude, just for a second -
Catherine: I'm sure it can wait
Me: Catherine, Catherine, Catherine, Catherine, Catherine, Ca-
Catherine: (Looking up) WHAT?!
Me: (Holds up melon) Look how red this watermelon is!!!

Seriously.
I apologise.

I love messing with Catherine

Scene: I'm sitting on the couch, Catherine is on the floor next to me, doing something on her computer.

Jacki: (Sees empty chip packet on the floor and picks it up) Hey, Catherine
Catherine: What?
Jacki: Do you want to hear a story about an empty chip packet, a train, and urine?
Catherine: No

LATER

Jacki: Hey, Catherine
Catherine: What?
Jacki: Do you want to hear a story about Gemma, a handbag, and vomit?
Catherine: No

LATER

Jacki: Hey, Catherine
Catherine: What?
Jacki: Do you want to hear a story about a principle's office, a mother, a boy, and my friend who will remain nameless?
Catherine: No

LATER

Jacki: Hey, Catherine
Catherine: What?
Jacki: Do you want to hear a story about Michael Vartan*, a press conference that the public can attend, sydney, and the month of March?
Catherine: (Looking up) Tell me
Jacki: Sorry, I can't. I made that one up

HA!

*ps for those of you not in the know, michael vartan is the SMOKING hot guy from Alias. yep. another reason to watch it.

Probably not worth reading

I must have been doing alot of meaningless crap lately, because all I want to do is blog.
Ok, wait.
Lets make that a little more specific.
I must have been watching alot of meaningless TV lately, because all I want to do is blog about TV.
I typed 'alot' twice just then - ok, that time makes it three - and each time I did it, the spell-check wavy red lines came up to tell me that 'alot' is a spelling error. It should be a lot. But even though i knew I'd made two - ok, now its actually four - spelling mistakes, I didn't bother to go back and change it, because I was too amped up to write a blog about TV.
See?
See how amped up I am? I am PSYCHED!
Maybe its because I'm watching Terminator 3 right now. Arnold Schwarznegger always ups my levels of psychitude.

I was watching some good old daytime TV the other day, and I happened across probably the best commercial I have ever seen in my life:

Now everyone who knows me knows I hate beer more than pretty much any other beverage, but I would down a tall frosty one just for that ad.
Legendary.

You know what show is awesome? that So You Think You Can Dance. Those kids can bust a move, yo. I love it. I love it even though it totally makes me feel like a disgusting lazy slob. Which I am. But still, nobody wants to hear that. Watching that show makes me want to put on a tiny sports bra and a pair of baggy white pants and get my dance on.
Hey, speaking of watching things and then wanting to do them, did anyone watch the tennis finals last night?
I did.
I wanted Roger Federer to win so bad. And not just because I love being able to shout 'go Rogie!' at the TV. But also because the other guy had really disgusting hair.
I've never sat down and watched a whole tennis match before, but that was awesome. And when Rog teared up during his speech? That was some moving stuff! So I watched the tennis finals, and then I watched 3 episodes of American Idol, then I watched a Bondi Rescue marathon, and then I watched Alias, and by the time I got done, it was like 5 in the morning, so I read a little of my book.
I'm reading this book at the moment called Prey. It was written by the same guy who wrote Jurassic Park. I heard he died a while back, but from his picture (which is on the back cover), he doesn't look that old, so I'm not sure if thats true.
Anyway, not the point. This is like the 5th time I've read this book, and every time I read it, it seems a little more stupid. Kind of like the Jurassic Park movies, I guess. Its about a group of scientists who develop this program called PREDPREY, its basically a huge swarm of nanoparticles, which escape from the lab and go on a killing rampage. I think a better name for the book would be The Swarm. Or maybe just Swarm.
My favourite part of the book - and also probably the most stupid part - is when the swarm develops the ability to mimic humans. So then this one guy is making out with his wife, but it turns out his wife is just the swarm. So he's macking on the swarm-wife, and then the nanoparticles go down his throat and, like, start eating him from the inside out.

I know, right? Where do I find these books? Between this one and Meg, its a wonder I'm not living in complete terror.

On a completely different note, I discovered today that there is a website called jackiestvblog.blogspot.com
Who is this person? I dont know, but I'm pretty sure they are my soul mate.
Well, they would be, if they didn't spell their name with an e on the end. That's just intolerable.
Although I probably can't afford to be that choosy with my soul-mate.
Like this personal ad I saw recently. It said:
Albino He-She seeks similar
I'm not trying to be mean or anything, but I don't think an Albino He-She can afford to be choosy either.

Alright well I've pretty much exhausted all topics.
Not really, but I should keep something for tomorrow.

*UPDATE*
I just remembered something else about that book I was talking about: The only way they can stop the swarm from like, entering their bodies, is by eating poo.
Oh yeah.
Its awesome

I hate working, but I feel like I want to get a job just so I can blog at work.
I love it.
I used to blog at work all the time. Remember this post? Oh, to be blogging behind the receptionists desk at Body Indulgence again. Those were the days; me, frantically typing in between phone calls, downsizing the blogger window every time my boss emerged from one of the waxing rooms, and getting yelled at by Andrea, the psychotic sales assistant, for using the store computer to read perezhilton.com
Good times!

In case you haven't already guessed, I'm only blogging for the sake of blogging. I don't really have anything meaningful to blog about.
It was a pretty slow day today. Oh, Janey invited me to some business meeting of her dads, where I talk about TV for an hour and half and get paid 60 bucks.
Well, something along those lines anyway.
Way to go Janey! And her dad! And Facebook, for that handy event function!
Does anyone else find it weird that Facebook chat considers 'facebook' to be a spelling error? Ironic? Yes
Meaningful? No
Blog-worthy? Well, on any other day, probably not. But like I said, it's been a slow day.

Introducing Winnifred Jones

Damn Alias/American Idol/Bondi Rescue marathons! They keep me up way too late.
I mean it. It's, what, 7.38pm right now, and I'm only just starting to wake up. I feel like such a slob, and I hate it!
No, that was a complete lie.
I like it.
Also a lie. I don't like it, I LOVE IT!!
I love my holiday bodyclock. No, really. It's one of my favourite things about myself. I love it so much, I may just give it a name - Winnifred Jones.
I love Winnifred Jones. I love how she stays up til 5am watching Alias reruns and footage of Michael Buble being interviewed by Rove McManus, and sleeps in until 2 in the afternoon. I love how she exists purely on a diet of vanilla coke and starburst lollies. I love everything about her.
No, wait, thats not 100% accurate. I don't love how she has a mother who makes her wake up at 10am on a monday morning to turn on the freaking crockpot.

Oh, snap! I just realised I only have like 4 and a half weeks of Winnifred Jones time left! I mean, because then Uni starts.
Uni! Structure! Learning! Holy crap, I'm gonna have to learn how to write with a pen again!
Oh well. You know what they say.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Plus, when I'm not being Jacki Trew as Winnifred Jones, I have more time to be Jacki Trew as Christie Angel.
I'll explain later.

Michael Buble, Tit Humper

So a couple of nights ago I was stalking Michael Buble over the internet, and I happened to come across a couple of interviews he's had on Rove over the years.
I love Rove. His interviews are so much more entertaining than any other talk show host, except maybe Ellen Degeneres. Oh, I do love it when Ellen straddles her coffee table like a crazy young whippersnapper.
Hey I think Rove has a coffee table too. Too wide to straddle, but still awesome. Except whatever happened to that giant bowl of jelly beans he used to keep? On the table I mean? I think maybe they got rid of it after Lano and Woodley picked it up and threw the whole lot into the audience one night.
That was awesome.
Anyway, what was I talking about?
Oh yeah, so I watched these two Michael Buble interviews on Rove, and I noticed that he told the same story in both.
Really.
The same story.
Like, almost word for word.
...
Did he really think nobody would notice? And - more importantly - hadn't anything happened to him in the 12 months since his last interview that he could tell a story about?
Anything?
I mean, anything? Because that first story wasn't that great! It wouldn't have been too hard to beat! Honestly, going down to Coles and finding that the pork sausages you bought for dinner last saturday have gone up by 59 cents would probably do it.

Well, I mean, thats what I was thinking.
Keyword: was
Until he came up with this little gem:

Rove: So, do people ever call you The Boob?
MB: What?
Rove: You know, The Boob? Like, Michael Booble?
MB: Oh, right, I get it. No, people don't call me The Boob. But I used to get called The Tit Humper
Rove: (laughing) What? The Tit Humper?
MB: Yeah, like, like its literal - Bub, is like tit. And, and then le, like, lay? Like, to have sex with?
Rove: Ohhhh
MB: Yeah, Tit Humper? Get it?
...
....
sensational.

top ten

Alright so I'm going to do this bumper post on how much I love alias AND NOT because I just got done watching like six episodes, but because its 2.54am and I've just decided I am on a total mission to make you all watch it with me.
You know, like I did with Prison Break - which totally worked. On, like, 3 people.
But whatever.to
You must watch - so here are The Top Ten Reasons Why You Should Watch Alias:
10. There are only 5 seasons - so it's not that hard to sit down and watch every episode back to back. And trust me, once you start, you'll want to.
9. Victor Garber, and the fact that all his features are squished into the middle of his face - trust me, after looking at it for a straight 40 minutes, you'll notice too.
8. The last 5 letters of Australia's are ALIAS - I know I already blogged about this, but it was only brief, and this is still awesome to me. Really.
7. It's one of those shows that you don't really understand - but its STILL awesome. Thats a mark of good TV, right there.
6. It's got everything - romance, action, comedy, suspense! fight scenes, crying scenes, love scenes! I love it
5. Jennifer Garner wears like 5 different wigs per episode - and who doesn't love a good wig?
4. It's like 24, but more believable - this, I heard from someone else. I've never watched 24, but I hear its good. Great. Grand. So wouldn't a better version of 24 be...wonderful?
3. Marshall Flinkman - this guy, whose face looks like a foot:
WHAT UP?! I love it!
2. The Sydney/Vaughn love story - only to be rivaled by Bella and Edward from Twilight.
and the number one reason to start watching Alias?
1. Jennifer Garners laugh - it's (at times) even crazier than mine

GET WATCHING, SCURVIES!!

111 Hits it out of the park

I love that show Alias.
And you know what I love even more than Alias?
111 Hits.
I love it. Love it love it love it.
111 Hits is the new Arena. Remember when Arena used to be cool? Like when it had Friends and Will and Grace and The Tyra Banks Show and The OC and original Simple Life?
Now Arena sucks. What happened to The OC? and Tyra? And what self-respecting channel would stop airing Friends episodes. Everyone knows that no matter how many times you've seen an episode of Friends, you won't mind sitting down and watching it again.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Arena's new show that they seem to have on all the time, either because they think people cant get enough of it, or they have nothing else to play, Sex and The City.
Now, dont get me wrong. I love me some Carrie Bradshaw. But if I see the 'Running With Scissors' episode one more time, I wont hesitate in ripping my own face off.
Seriously.
Because that would be less painful.

But what was I talking about?
Oh yes, 111 Hits.
Who invented 111 Hits? Because I want to have their children. Seriously, I want to show them a good time. I want to buy them dinner, take them dancing and whisper sweet nothings into their ear in the cabride home.
Friends AND Will and Grace AND Dharma and Greg (I MISSED Greg so much! And having him on that NCIS-wannabe show just isn't the same).
PLUS That 70's Show.
Baywatch.
3rd Rock from the Sun.
Malcolm in the Middle!!
Alias (I die. I DIE!)
Double episodes of Lost? With NO commercials? Its like they made this channel specifically with me in mind!!

You should all watch Alias. Seriously, get on that. Didn't you know Alias is the last 5 letters of Australia's.
yeah.
YEAH.
I dont know what that means, but its gotta mean something, right?
Plus Vaughn is TOTALLY hot.

Dudette returns

So I was sitting at the train station the other day, and this guy came up to me and was all 'Hey, dude, do you know where the toilets are?'
...
Ok, now let me just say one thing; whoever worked on the design for the new St Leonards train station, and came up the idea of only putting public bathrooms on one side of the barriers is a complete moron. I don't know how many times people have come up to me, while I'm in line to buy a ticket or whatever, asked me where the toilets are, and then abused the crap out of me when I tell them.
No, really.
Like it's my fault they have to pay $2.40 to take a leak. Like it was my idea to have the bathrooms inside the station. Like I was the one who came up with the design for the new St Leonards train station - hey, they built it in what, 1999? When I was what, 8 or 9 years old? Yeah, that totally makes sense. But whatever. Thats another blog for another day.

So, I turned to this guy and said 'Hey man, who needs a toilet? You think they had toilets in the Garden of Eden? No! And that garden was perfect man! Who needs a toilet? Sounds like you're working for your bladder man...visualiiiiise!!'
No, thats a lie.
What I actually said was 'The only toilets are inside the train station', and pointed to where they were.
And then the guy started yelling at me about how stupid it was to only put toilets on one side of the barriers.
Sigh.

Anyway, the real reason I'm blogging about this - yeah, there is actually a real reason - is that when the guy called me 'Dude', I got to thinking...
I love the word dude. And I love calling people dude. But you know what I love calling people, even more than dude?
Dudette.
Seriously.
Remember dudette? Whatever happened to dudette? I feel like it wasn't so long ago that everyone called each other dudette. And then suddenly, without warning, dudette was gone. Missing. It had vanished, without a trace. And the saddest thing is, I didn't even notice!
And now nobody uses dudette. Not even me!

So I'm taking a stand. I'm bringing back dudette.
Who's with me?!

Right.
Is it just me, or does Meryl Streep look TOTALLY drunk during the credits of Mamma Mia?
You know, the part where they all come out in those crazy costumes and dance on the light-up stage?
And first they sing Dancing Queen, then there's a break, and then they do Waterloo?
Ok, grab your DVD, and fast-forward to that part - the break I mean.
As much as I love Meryl, she looks absolutely insane. First she wobbles around on her heels a bit, then she crouches down and walks toward the camera whispering 'What are you looking at? What are YOU looking AT?'. Then she shuffles left, then right, then left again very quickly - you know, like shes a bit off her balance - then she screams 'Do you want another one? DOOO you want another ONNEEEE???' Then the music starts up again, and she staggers around the stage while everyone else performs the whole routine in unison.
It's absolutely sensational.

Things we learn when holidaying at Lord Howe Island

Hot road + bare feet = bad idea
Funny. I'm not sure how many times I have to subject the soles of my feet to vicious heat-induced blisters before I really figure this one out. No, really. I mean it. Whenever I'm about to walk 3km along a tar sealed road with no shoes on, I hear two things in my head. One, the voice of reason: "Find a pair of shoes. I beg of you, please. Please keep in mind what happened last time. Please keep in mind that your feet are made of delicate human flesh, and nothing more. Please keep in mind that if you don't get off your lazy ass and find a pair of shoes before you walk along that road, I will transfer into another human body and kill you myself."
And two, the - far more dominant - voice of procrastination:
"Ah, screw it. You don't need shoes. What's the worst that could happen?"

There is no such thing as a comfortable bike seat
So apparently the bicycle was invented in 1817. That's, what, 192 years ago? And they couldn't have come up with something more comfortable in that time? Honestly, sitting bare-assed in a pit of syringes would probably feel better than getting back on a bike - I never thought, in my whole life, that I'd have to endure taking my undies off with a pair of tweezers.

If you have to ask the waiters to remove the nuts from a particular meal, its probably not going to taste good
I don't know what it was, but I've never had so much bad luck with Pinetrees lunches in my whole life. Ok, let me explain. Pinetrees, the hotel we stay at every year, offers 2 different options for every meal. And for basically the first week of my holiday, BOTH options contained nuts. No, really. BOTH. So here is the rest of my family, enjoying Thai kingfish curry and tandoori chicken, and I'm pleading with the waitress for "the roasted beetroot and hazelnut salad without the hazelnuts, or hazelnut vinaigrette".

Maybe spiders DO hate Julia more than me
Ok. I know! I never thought I'd be speaking - or, rather, typing - those words. But in my room, we only experienced one spider attack in ten days. And while I did consider it fairly traumatising (that spider was almost 5cm wide!!), I do admit it was nothing compared to the family of dinner-plate sized Huntsman's who decided to construct their nest in Julia's bathroom cupboard.

My sister Catherine can actually read
Geez - who'd of thought? All these years, here I was thinking she was a closet illiterate. And it turns out that she simply doesn't like to read. Wait, scrap that. Didn't like to read. Of course, since I introduced her to the wonder that is The Twilight Series, she's become as infatuated with Edward Cullen as the rest of us. Oh, and even better - I've finally found someone who loathes Jacob Black as much as I do!!

Cockroaches can fly
Did anyone else not know this? Ok, I'm probably an idiot. But I had NO idea that cockroaches even had wings, let alone the ability to fly. And this is what happened when I found out:
Jacki: (Walks into bathroom to change into bikini, pauses, and then emits what can only be described as a cross between a wail and a shout) Ah!!
Mum: What?
Jacki: (Running out of bathroom) Cockroach! Big! Big cockroach!
Mum: (Sighing impatiently) Where?
Jacki: Above the door! Please, please get it out!
Mum: Jacki, just deal with it.
Jacki: But Mum -
Mum: It won't hurt you! Now hurry up and get changed.
Jacki: (Sulking) Fine. (Walks back into bathroom, strips down, and reaches across bathroom for bikini, which is hanging on a towel rack. Suddenly, the cockroach takes flight, aiming straight - and I kid you not - for my face) AAAAAHHHH!! (Yeah. This time it was a full-on scream)
Mum: (From outside the bathroom) Oh, for Heaven's sake. What now?
Jacki: (Near hysteria) You said! You said it wouldn't attack me!
Mum: (Speaking over the sound of my dad and sister absolutely pissing themselves) It attacked you?
Jacki: My face!! Oh, it attacked my face!
Catherine: Well then come outside!
Jacki: I haven't got any pants on!!
...
And so on and so-forth.

And thats it.
Stay tuned for next year.