the antilogy |

My dad taught me to cartwheel.

One summer holidays I went into work with my Dad (he was a librarian) nearly everyday and read all of the Young Adult section.

My sister and I shared a bedroom together when we were 17 and 18. She’d just finished school and I was doing my final year and it was not a good combination. She used to come home drunk with her friends when the local clubs/bars would close and wake me up all the damned time.

I broke one of my closest friends (Bec) leg when we were 4 or so. It was totally an accident (I’m hoping so unless I was a psychopath back then) but she brings it up most times we catch up. I figure that’s fair. Even worse is it apparently didn’t look like it was broken and my mother sent her home from our play date, and her mother (who is a nurse) gave her a panadol and told her to stop crying. Ahh, child rearing in the 80’s.

Despite my mother now being the least maternal person ever she is my go to person for recipe advice since she used to make most of our food, including home made vanilla ice cream.

I had a wart on my thumb as a kid and was petrified for weeks after my Mum told me we’d need to have it frozen off. Then I woke up one day and it had disappeared. I’m still squicked out by the idea that it fell off in my sleep.

The first two tapes (yeah!) I bought myself were Whispering Jack by John Farnham and Still Cruising by the Beach Boys.

I don’t sing in front of others because of the trauma (!) of my sister discovering me singing along to my walkman one day off key to Tears of a Clown and harassed me mercilessly. So if we’re ever out drunk together and you suggest going to karaoke and I say no? Blame Sabine.

Just to even this up I was a complete shit of a younger sister to Sabine and would frequently get her into trouble. One of my favourites was when I was learning how to write at 3 or 4 and wrote her name (in permanent marker) on the windowsill at home. She got the blame for that one. Oh, and I also threw a pair of scissors at her once. So yeah. Bygones.

(Look at me here – do I look like someone who could throw a pair of scissors at my sisters head?)

I used to be ridiculously active as a child, I don’t know what happened.

My Dad believed in creative punishment since he didn’t smack us. One night when I was around 4 I didn’t want to do the dishes so he proposed I ran around the farm (11 acres) until maybe I’d change my mind. I made it around 3 times I think before he took pity on me. He made me do the dishes anyway.

I grew up on a farm which had an outside toilet. It was terrifying and I still don’t know how I used to go outside in the middle of the night. Maybe I just wet the bed a lot?

There weren’t many rules on the farm, but the main one for me was even if I wasn’t wearing clothes (I did not like wearing clothes) I had to wear gumboots. And if we went off on our own we had to have our Great Dane Sid come with us.

My Mum gave Sabine and I completely ridiculous nicknames as children. I still haven’t told Beth mine because it’s stupid and mortifying. And no, I’m not telling you either. Let’s just say it has Bum in it and leave it at that.

I got a haircut on the weekend from my beloved hairdresser Carol. Even though Carol has been cutting my hair (and Beth’s) for a few years now she doesn’t remember my name. Up until last week she called me Mimi. Mimi bears no relation whatsoever to my real name Eve, like none.

But when I saw her she’d given up completely and just calls me Beth. So there’s Beth (me) and Beth (Beth.)

Carol understands the mop that is my hair and I love her, she gave me a great haircut and made it all shiny and pretty.

Then I washed it last night it turned into this.

Demented bag lady hair a-hoy!

I’m smack bang in the middle of the cooling off period with the apartment, it’s a 42 day settlement period which is fine but I’m a worrier by nature so I’m just waiting for someone (I don’t know who, my worries are not very rational) to pop out and say “No, you can’t have it.”

I am also a poh child at the moment. I’m saving about half of my pay at the moment to go towards all of the other fees and charges on this place, mortgage broker fees, solicitor fees, mortgage insurance, strata reports blah blah blah. 

It is fucking ridiculous, as a result I’m student poor. I raided my piggy bank this morning for coffee and lunch money, I did not work hard for 10 years to be paying for my lunch in 50 cent coins!

Fucking mortgage.

In a few weeks it’ll all be over, the mortgage payments themselves are quite manageable so once all of these fees and stuff are done it’ll be a lot easier. Because I am not 17 anymore and I refuse to use silver coins as my main tender. Refuse!

How’s things with you?

1 x success, 1 x failure this weekend.

Success?

Gave Poppy a bath and we’re both still standing with no bloodshed and not one scratch mark. I gave up on the shower idea after I realised I would get wet. So she went into the laundry sink. Did she like it? Hell no. Did she cling to the tap like her life depended on it? Yup. Did she look like a drowned rat afterwards? Yeah, my poor little wet rat. Is she clean and flea free? Clean definitely, hopefully flea free.

I won’t be in a hurry to do it again, but I’m glad it was as terrible as I thought it would be.

The failure relates purely to my digestive system after my beer and ribs night on Saturday. I enjoyed myself immensely, I forget how nice it is being on Sydney harbour in the summer time. Lovely. So I was talked into getting a full rack of ribs, and it was dee-licious. Combined with the beer though, and then the cider afterwards and let’s say I don’t think my insides are happy with me at all. Like, at all.

Speaking of immense amounts of trouble I just found out there’s a doughnut store opening essentially a block away from my apartment. I do not need a doughnut store near me, especially one that is next door to my grocery store and is literally a 2 minute walk from my house. I may as well just buy a muumuu and throw away my cross trainer. Give me strength.

I just found out what we’re doing for New Years, which awesomely involves renting a beach house for a week in Palm Beach, a.k.a. the beach of Home & Away. What this means is that at some point after I drink too much sangria or other dodgy punch type drink I mix up, I will be recreating scenes from H&A, including but not limited to Michael dying and Pippa trying to save him, Bobby dying and (forget his name) trying to save her, and also some Alf action yelling at kids. It’s going to be AWESOME. 

Work is totally having a shut down period over Christmas. Suh-weet. I get to have nearly 2 weeks off work, thank the baby jebus and you kids for the vibes you sent out. You’re like my own personal Uri Gellers. But without the spoons.

I’ve got my delicious little turquoise hall table being delivered Tuesday and I’m needing some advice on where I should put it. So, do I put it in the living room and move other stuff around? 

Or do I put it in my bedroom, at the end of my bed  and have a totally girly bedroom?

I know, I write about the hard hitting stuff here at theantilogy.

I’ve decided that once Poppy heads off (which, let’s face it, will be a while since she’s barely a year old) that I’m not going to have another pet for a while. I just can’t handle the gut wrenching awful-ness of losing a pet. I mean I miss George still, my little tabby nutcase kitten that I still have scars from. And Lily, my psychopathic horse sized cat who did not curl up next to you or even let you touch her or frankly even care for you much. And they’re both gone and I do not like feeling the amount of feelings I have when I love something like that, and then they go.

Can you tell my issues when it comes to relationships? Shyeah.

I’m so excited by the idea of time off over Christmas, I had a week off in April, I think? And I am lazy, way lazy, so that is far too long to just be working and stuff.

Adam is back at work next week, thank god. I’ve actually missed the douchebag, and am very much looking forward to having someone to kidney punch again.

I’m heading back to the hairdresser this weekend. I only went a few weeks ago but she didn’t take enough length off the front. She gives me these bob cuts which are shorter at the back and longer at the front, like a Posh bob. But my hair is far too fucking thick and it just gives me the shits when it’s hanging around my face. So yes, Carol has to make it shorter but cuter. I do not know how but she is the genius here.

Anyway, I’m heading off at a normal time again today. Hope everyone is fit and well.

Dear, this week has been busy and boring. I am still absolutely bored at work without Adam here, but one week down one to go. On the plus side I am powering through my work each day without the coffee breaks we normally have, so I’m only doing 9 hour days. Score.

So, you know that cute maxi dress I bought to wear to Sabine’s 30th this weekend? I decided against it. I’m such a knob when it comes to buying outfits, I get a single outfit stuck in my head and then I buy it all and get it home and try it on, and I don’t like it all that much anymore.

Instead I bought this top, it’s pretty cute and I figure with skinny (chubby) jeans and heels I should be okay. Photo’s will be up on Twitter over the weekend I think.

I’ve got the relatives staying at my house for the weekend (thanks Sabine.) I’ve spend the last couple of days cleaning and fussing. I don’t know when I got so retarded with visitors coming and how clean the apartment is, I mean they’re family, they don’t care about dust. But yeah, the house is wickedly clean.

I found this little table at an online auction. And because I am awesome and by awesome I mean incapable of losing I won it. It is going to look so fucking gorgeous in my apartment. I think it might go in the bedroom maybe?

I’m a little worried about Saturday night. The last time I had a bit of a big night I ended up crying over something stupid. I don’t do public crying, so I’m hoping that that night was just a one off, because dear God I don’t want to be the crying drunk. I am the cheerful drunk girl and I better bloody keep that title. In fact I’ve decided I will instead have a great night with a lot of my friends to celebrate my sisters birthday, the end, full stop.

Sorry, this turned out to be a little boring so I’m going to be conscientious and leave work at 4:00 p.m. Hope you all have a great weekend.

Oh dear, I keep forgetting to update. Sure the information isn’t all that exciting but it’s all I got people.

 Today was a typical Monday. It’s been pouring in Sydney all weekend, which is lovely if it’s a Sunday and you spent all day, bar 10 minutes toddling down to the shops for coffee and the Sunday newspaper, inside all warm and dry.

 Today, while coming out of my front door my umbrella blew inside out. I really should’ve seen that as a sign to just turn around and go back to bed. But, Mel my sidekick got in before me and called in sick so I knew she was away today, and since we are our whole team for the IT  department if she’s away I can’t be. So yeah, I got wet, and my hair got boofy and it sucked.

 But, I got to work and I got a good coffee. I saw the stripper girl again  - Oh, I forgot!

 So Adam, whether through the people power exhibited on this page, or because my nagging had finally worn him down pointed out work stripper lady to me last week. Television has lied to me as she did not look like the Barbie-esque blonde stripper I was imagining. She was small and a brunette and frankly she had no breasts. I don’t understand it, if strippers are legally not allowed to show their vajayjay then why would you be a stripper if you have small breasts? What do you have to entertain with aside from your winning personality?

 Anyway.

 Adam gets married today, over in the delightful Fiji. I’m still sad that I didn’t end up going but let’s be honest, being trapped on an island for over a week with Adam and his mother is just a little too much for me. (Seriously, his mother is terrifying.)

 But now it means I don’t have a coffee buddy to have coffee breaks with or do swift kidney punches to when no one is watching.

 It’s beginning to dawn on me that in a couple of years I will be arriving at a place where there are things I just shouldn’t do/wear/saw anymore. I’m 29 next year. That is fucking ancient (sorry Alec) and I just realised that I probably won’t be able to wear shoes with bows on them after 30, or give Adam kidney punches in between meetings, or tell particular annoying IT kids that I will smash them if they don’t do the work I’ve just given them. I mean, sure I look grown up and all –

But isn’t there a period of a decade or so where I have to not be childish and be grown up and shit before turning 50 and becoming disgraceful again? Are these the rules and if so what the hell inappropriate behaviour do I have to jam into the next 2 years before I’m not allowed to do it anymore?

 Suggestions for a before 30 bucket list please!

Right, I have been tardy with this here place lately.

I’ve been sick, the flu with a nice cheeky dose of strep throat. So I’ve been laying low , hanging out at home, whimpering and generally being pathetic. It’s been tops.

But! Today I feel much better, I’ve finished my second course of antibiotics, I had an interrupted 8 hour sleep last night without being woken up struggling to breathe (sexy!)

So this week has been much better than last.

I got my tax return back and I’m a little seduced by my bank balances at the moment. I was good and transferred $6,000 straight to my credit card. The longer money stays in my account the weaker my resolve would be, so it was in there about, ooh, 2 hours before I had to get it the fuck out.

Willpower, thy name is not Lucy.

I have put aside some cash for me to go a little nuts with, if I didn’t get any play money out of the whole return I would feel very very hard done by. Because life is hard, obvs. First purchase, new gold necklace. I wear silver and I’m trying to switch to gold. So first gold acquisition -

Last night I watched a beekeeper come and take down a massive hive that had been built (grown? created?) in a tree outside my apartment. It was cool, he got lifted up via cherry picker with his smoker thingy. Smoked the hive, put a box thingy underneath it, and just tapped it and it all fell into the box. Just fell. It was all very cool and seamless, until I saw him with him hands down his overalls 5 minutes later trying to get the bees out of his pants. That made me laugh.

I’m going to the farmers markets tomorrow. I have very big plans to acquaint myself with some locally produced vegetables and cheeses and meats and pretty pretty flowers for my apartment. Because it’s just me going I’m going to get up at the crack of dawn so I’m there at 7:00 a.m. when it opens. No sloppy seconds for me, thank you very much.

I got my hair did and put a colour through it, the colour is a wee bit gothy for my liking. Apparently dark brown means different things to different hair colouring companies. But no grey so it’s a win in my book.

(Actually I found a photo I took of the new colour/cut

. Excuse the no make up, mouth full of toothpaste yes?)

I bought advanced tickets to the New Moon movie on the day of release. I’d apologise for being so lame, but I have no shame whatsoever. In fact I will be bunking off from work early on that day to watch the movie with Bec who gets my lame Cullen fascination. In fact we’ve already told one friend they can’t come with us because they would disparage us. I don’t know about you, but I am pretty bloody excited.

Anyway, I’m beat so I’m going to head home. Hope you all have a great weekend.

(Thanks for the comments about remedies for strep throat too, muchly appreciated.)

Reasons why I’m going to punch Poppy.

1. She has been on heat this week. I am absolutely horrified. She’s finished now, but for 5 days she did nothing but molest everything and anything in the apartment and yowl like I was killing her. She defiled my work shoes, Dobby (my stuffed toy I’ve had forever) the washing basket and pretty much everything she could reach. She is a foul disgusting cat that is being de-sexed next week because I cannot go through that ever again.

2. She loves to race around the apartment which is fine, albeit annoying. When she does it on the balcony railing I have a heart attack. I can’t sit out there when she’s out there as she likes to turn around, scratch herself and run along an inch wide balcony ledge – below is a two storey fall to a concrete driveway. Cannot handle it.

This week was horrendously busy at work. I can’t actually remember much about this week except working and coming home. It was gross, the end.

I think I’ve finally finished unpacking properly now. Since I half-arsed cleaned the apartment this morning you get photos!

And I don’t normally do tag-meme thingys, but I like Suvvygirl so you get 6 unimportant things that I love -

1.  After a long day having a good hot shower. Man, washing my face, shampooing my hair, all toasty warm and clean is awesome.

2. Painting my toenails red. Instant fancy.

3. Ceramic flying ducks. I have no idea why but they’re just cute. I want them for my apartment.

4. A Saturday afternoon nap. Especially the type that you wake up drooling from them.

5. People who snort when they laugh. Makes me laugh and is infectious.

6. Broccolini. Like normal brocolli, but teeny and miniature.