10 Observations from the Reformed Faceyholic..

My recent attempt to get off facebook written about 2months ago.. Still battling the addiction but at least I've culled my 16 Scrabble games a day + 2 hours of bejeweled habit down to nothing.. I just eat more now...Grrrr.

Number One. I was and still remain the absolute guru-swami, ninja, Ghandi, She-ra goddess of bejeweled. You know it and I know it and as long as i’m off the applications, that’s the ONLY way you’ll be seeing your name at no 1 instead of mine.. Enjoy it until my great comeback which will be 10times bigger that John Farnhams 7th Final Last Show EVAH TOUR!!!

Number Two: See Number one but insert “Collapse” instead of Bejeweld and there you have it. Again.. Cause that how the ambi-dexti-gamers like me roll…

Number Three: My facebook status updates were more often than not, thinly veiled judgements or criticisms (my gosh how many s‘s’s does that damn word have!) and it’s a shame now that I’ve deleted all those “friends” they’ll never know that it was them that I was judging or criticizing.. Sharron… FYI.. If you have enough energy to boot up your puter, type in the password and string 250 characters together, you’ve got enough energy to take a fricken panadol and stick your headache and hemorrhoids up your butt IN PRIVATE..

Number Four: It becomes waaaay easier to judge people from afar when you see the groups that they join.. People.. “I reeally like touching Rabbits” might be okay if your 4yrs old and holding a Rabbit but Adults? ... Consider you judged = some queer pervert.

Number Five: People who pointed out my typos pissedd me orf.. Oh thsat’s right - you’ll never know cause I deleted you…

Number Six: On facebook, I was stunning.. Dn’t believe me - check it out! There’s not one ugly or unflattering photo of me, my kids or the hubbie. That’s right people - I’m this happy and good looking ALL the time. ALL of the time DAMMIT!!

Number Seven: It takes a looong time to really get to know Facebook like I did. Friends would ring me up to get them started and I’d get to try out my Indian accent in my adopted role as “Tech Support.” I’d even drop the phone, zone out during the conversation (because I was SLAMMIN a HUGE bejeweled score) and occasionally just hang up to really get into my “method” acting. They’d always ring bacl though - cause they knew i would point their little cursors in the right direction, hear their begrudging thanks and say “Please Come Again” knowing they would. Ahhhhh.. It was great knowing just about everything....

Number Eight: It was a great way to fill in time when my mum calls.. We had a routine, she called, I would load up bejeweled,“Hmm? Uh ha Uh ha - oh no! hmm?” and then HA Karen Thompson Take that I win!! Oh sorry Mum - yesss? Oh NO!” Now it’s like - oh hi mum! Really? SIX centimeters of rain!? Well. Fascinating. Yes I heard. No he didn’t what’s that? Hmm? What! SIX centimeters of rain!?! Well..” ............. I actually have to listen now. It’s fun. really.. soooo much better than bejeweled...heaps.
Number Nine: Sarcasm never really translated for me on Facebook which is a shame as it’s one of my most valued assets.. I saved it for peoples useless updates.. “I made myself some toast this morning and it was perfectly brown on both sides.” To which i would write "Wow!" See - there it was! Did you get it? Try adding these words to it - you’re a dickhead.. NOW you get it !... Facey definitely needed a DISLIKE button and a TOOL button. I should patent that.

Number Ten: I really do miss facey and some of the folks I made myself cull.. They keep popping up “Reconnect with Justin” “Send a message to Jess” Justin I feel we connected at MITRE 10 didn’t we!!!??!! - Jess I’ll CALL you I SWEAR but by the power of Grayskull I say NOOOOO FACEBOOK!!!
Besides, know if i go back,,, well,,,, my dad just might kill himself as I think he’s finally made it to the top of the bejeweled chart this week.. .. But for how long???

If I put TITS in the title does it mean you'll read this??

Again an oldie, written just after my awesome friend Jelly's 30th birthday...

So many of you may know that I went to a day spa about a month ago, to surprise my best mate on her 30th… A naked day spa. Like - you know those ones that you see on TV with all these “I’m so comfortable with my body I bare it to everyone” kinda women in them, all very equally naked? The scenes where white towels and steam are everywhere and your choice of “ginger-tofu and a hint of god-knows-what-else” scented exfoliating cream?? And licorice tea? I shit you not… Cause EVERYONE, at one stage, whilst sucking on a licorice strap has thought to themselves - “Gee, wouldn’t it be awesome if you melted this stuff down and like, infused it with some Earl-Grey and then,,, added soy milk!” Mmmmmm…

So anyway, there I was in the change room, at the all-naked- we-are-all-at-one-with-our-body, trendy day spa and I thinking “oh my bloody god.” My hands were shaking and even though I’d previously had 4 weeks of starving and denying natures only good food group - the saturated chocolates and pastries group,, it was down to this choice - take it all off or be a sulk??....

I absolutely sulked it. I left my little singlet on, and my black knickers which covered my whole butt and a good 2 inches of my top leg, sucked my stomach in and headed out to climb into the spa to join the birthday girl who incidentally, had not sulked it and was wearing only her birthday suit… Most of her friends however had also sulked it and this somewhat surprised me as some of them had wayyyy better assets than me (from what I could see even if it was under a bikini top!)

Now the birthday spa got better when the champagne came out and I had my very first virgin glass,, then my second, and mabe even a 3rd or 4th but hey, by then who can count when you’re trying so hard to stay upright on a chair and remember finer details such as “no dips on the platter and licorice tea” for later, sober, blog writing times.. We grew rowdier and the spa attendants had to tell us to shush due to people having weird karmasutra-sounding-like “treatments.” It was somewhere coming back from the drinky room, on route to the sauna room, where I decided that i was gonna get at least semi-naked. So we sauna-ed and i found out that neck rests look a lot like booster seats when you’re a bit pissed and that if one adds water to the coals, no matter how pretty the steam is, the room gets hotter.. Bad drunken girl.. Who let her into the sauna!?!

And with that, it was onto the steam room.. So we sat around and started the - “Oh you’re legs are great, oh you look great for 3 kids, oh no the pubic afro is totally IN!” talk and I became overwhelmed to get my gear off - the top at least - and I’d like to think it was the alcohol in me that peer pressured the others to get their tops off too but it may have been also my fondness for perving at boobs… (kidding!!! I promise!!) And by the grace of peer pressue, alcohol and perhaps other people quests to see boobies too,, almost all of us, got our shirts off and out tits out!!!

And so we sat there and were liberated!! (or maybe that Ceremonial Trumpeting Music was only playing in my head?!) There were all these childless firm boobies and big ones and even BIGGER ones and smaller ones and then we all got talking about who wanted theirs to be more north (um.. me!?!), more centered (oh look at that - me again!), bigger (well it’s a fricken HAT trick now!), smaller boobs, bigger nipples, pierced nipples, pinker/darker/smaller!!! Now I KNOW why those bimbos do those “Girls Gone Wild” shows!! - cause getting your top off and being at one with the “sisterhood” is SO MUCH FRICKEN FUN!!!! Next time, I’m having like - 5 glasses of champagne and gettin it all ORF!! Woo Woo!

My name is Christie and I am a binge-a-holic...

Intresting to note that I originally wrote this in 2008 yet it could have been last week.. THe never-ending quest to fit into the skinny jeans... Or even the semi-stretch ones. Or just the size 14...

I am.. It’s true.. From as far back as I remember, I was sneaking into the cupboard, armed with the huge tablespoon that we used for every quality bake, and hoeing into the Milo, the drinking chocolate, the Quik and on one disarming occasion, the fricken coca… yuk factor of 1001!

Franklins was the supermarket of choice back then.. They made exceptionally horrible imitations of Kit Kats which my poor savings-conscious mama believed was “just a good as the real ones” and thus, planted them into our lunchboxes everyday - to go neatly with the No Frills potato chips, soggy ham and lettuce sanga and cream bun.. I ate those pretend things by the hundreds, each time trying to fill the void of what I new REAL ones tasted like...

I started cooking when I was around 8. By then I had figured out that the only way to get the biggest lick of the spoon, was AFTER you’d just brewed up a fresh lot of cupcake batter which for most, would normally make 12 but for us - usually offered 8.. Mama had these Pyrex white mixing bowls with orange and khaki retro patterned strips.. There were 3, but the smallest one was my fave.. I knew that I could chuck in a sizable mound of caster sugar, slap some butter in and mix it up for 30secs and you had it - heaven in a bowl that you could hide behind your Enid Blyton book, on the stealth trip back to the sanctuary of my room.. I have eaten so much batter, dough, cake mix, pecans, choc bits, butter mix, caramel and cream in my life; consumed so much compound cooking chocolate that it’s quite possible I have supported, through college, the child in the Chinese factory who started brewing it so many years ago (“No Frills” was the birth of the Made in China food product) ...

Prior to the cooking, I’d been nicking money out of the oldies wallets for ages. $2 notes -currency of choice -and that would get me a Chrunchie, Crunch, 4 freddos and at least a bag of 50c lollies, as big as an orange! I’d ride into the local shop, spend in all, have a crunchie half hangin out of my gob, as I pedalled the way to school. Upon arrival, I’d usually down the rest of the stuff and plot out how to best avoid the upcoming PE class.. 1988 saw the end of my light-fingered ways as I watched my mum give away our expo tickets as punishment.. bitch…

It’s easy when you’re a teenager to eat what you like but even then, I knew I had to watch it and unfortunately, failed many times. Since I started paying attention at about 16, I’ve been up and down the sizes, ever grateful that I’m tall so nobody would notice too much. Bloody husbands and flatmates have interfered with my bingey ways and on many occasions, I’ve turned to stuffing wrappers of those stupidly- too- tiny- milky- ways- that- you -get- in- the- bulk- pack, down the side of the couch. I usually find them when I’m in search of the beeper or a pen and quickly throw them out but I’ve been caught a few times… Although, I’ve found in recent years that kids have another name now - scapegoats..

At restaurants, I feel the need to eat everything. I mean EVERYTHING.. I’m not above reaching over and helping stevo eat everything too. I have had to tip my glass into my plate to stop eating the last 1/2 kg of the most fantastic bloody chocolate mud cake eva!!

So I’ve got the last 4kgs of my 29kgs to lose - the scales were good to me this morning so I rewarded them with a clean, polish, and the promise to not plonk my fat ass back on there until tomorrow. Again, another day of being good but there were these bloody blue snakes left. I buy packets of snakes cause I only like the red ones. I do this so I wont binge the whole packet. BUT - if I HAVE to, I’ll eat the yellow ones. Then the orange..For it to get to the green and blue ones, I have to be desperate.. Turns out this morning I was very very very bloody desperate. I circled them for a good 17mins, back and forth into the kitchen, open shut open shut what can I have what can I HAVE DAMMIT!!?! And there they were, cozily nestled together just beckoning gently to me... And ever so gently, into the hatch and chew chew chew.. "Mmmm sweet,, chewy,, ewe lime flaovour sucks ass but it feels sooooo good to have a snake in my mouth" but then, with the self help power of ghosts of former fat shows, I remembered the greater cause and chewed some more, chew chew chew chew, suck suck SUCKING DAMMIT every last bit of flavour out of them and then..... QUICKLY OPENED THE BIN, OPENED MY MOUTH AND LET THEM FALL IN!!!!

It’s official - I am a BINGER and I have LOST MY FRICKEN MIND!!!!!! Have I really become one of those freaks who chews and spits?!? I googled it - there's no official name yet but I've come up with chewexpellsanervosia - if nothing else, that's a hell of a scrabble word! But really, is this what it's come to for me?? I mean - I GAVE UP GOOD QUALITY SNAKES ALBEIT SHIT LIME ONES!!!!

Why write this you ask?? Some stupid biatch with no job, goes nowhere with 2 older children said to me yesterday “Oh you’re looking so good. Oh you’re so lucky, it just falls of you. I’ve got to lose a few but it’s so hard and I just don’t have the time to exercise. It’s easy when you’re young..” And I know I’m ranting but EASY! EASY???

I mean by the power of envoking of Lleyton Hewitt - CUMMMMOOOONNNNN!???????!!!!!!!! CUMMMMMFARKENON!!!!!!!!!!!???????!!!!!!

She can get stuffed - I’m not talking to her again stupid bitch. And I'm also going to make sure I wear something extra fabuolous next time I know I"m going to see her - she can go home and suck down a packet of Pizza Shapes to self-comiserate....

And now I’m going to bed, exceptionally proud that of the 47 Anzac biscuits that I brewed up tonight, I only ate two… (and the crusts that I cut off Ella’s peanut butter sanga.) Seems I've kept Chewexpellsanervosia at bay for another day..

pft!....easy?.....Buggar her, I'll gift wrap the damn box of Shapes.....

Burgers and Multi-faceted..

So I’m having a reflective moment right now.. Upon hearing several of my mates utter “hey did you get an invite to the mini reunion  at blah blah blah (highschool cough ahem!)..” it got me a-wondering…

Now, it’s no secret that I was not the most popular item in a burger.. Some people are born to be the buns - mainly those sporty or seriously good-looking and therefore popular people..

The bun people, true to their role on the burger, were always at the top of everything - the most prominent, in the limelight and although a part of the collective burger, there was no burger without them - you had to have them and god they knew it. Alternatively, if they weren’t at the top of everything, they were just underneath you.. You’d think your time had come to be the leader or get the guy, and before you knew it, there they were, sliding in underneath you and stealing all your glory. A constant reminder that you better watch yourself cause they were the main show - they were THE burger..

And you move on to the the meat pattie people - the seriously brainy kids.

These people; you didn’t HAVE to have them but it made the place a lot nicer. They were respected, sometimes mocked or teased but mostly just accepted. The buns knew that they kinda needed the meat in order to -
a. have someone to be better looking than or
b. have someone they could go to for tutorial..
As it turned out, some of the meat people grew up and experienced many changes. Marinades and Sauces adorned them and many become amazing versions of their former, rarer self. It also helps that they went on to get lucrative jobs and could buy fries, lemonade and an ice cream cones at leisure…

Moving to the salad people - the rest of us.

The lettuce - Floaty, wavy creative people who come in all varieties and were just too cool for school. They were looked upon as being a bit “out-there” but somewhat funky - like mesculin.
The onions - Mean nasty bitches who would cheerfully make you cry. If there is any justice, hopefully most of those people grew up to be as round as onions..
The cheese - The relaxed, “everyone likes the cheese” calm, casual people who just hung around, looked good and fitted in with everyone..
The beetroot - Bold, naughty people who stained the school in various ways - graffiti, nikko tributes to former loves, ciggie butts. On the whole, they radiated - stay away unless you’re tuff..
WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY POSITION..

THE PICKLE…
I was and still may be a pickle. you either love or you hate em. A total pre-requisite or tossed out the window faster than you can say “bio-degradable wrapper.” Most of the population view the pickle as a weird little vegie, an inconvenience on an otherwise brilliant burger.. Others say it’s an acquired taste. Many questioned it’s merits but pickles are usually determined little buggars that fought for inclusion and did their best to leave a dent in the burger if forcibly removed… I have no doubt, me and a few select others, were pickles.. Some people LOVE pickles - reverie and spread the word about their fantastic qualities but have you noticed; they’re all a bit strange too??

So there is my role. An acquired taste worshipped by an eclectic few..

The pickle, all these years later, is yet to be recognised by the buns - actually I think there's been some study done by some loser PHD Meat Pattie, at the University of Idiot Thesises, which conclusively proved that it's pretty much NEVAH GOING TO HAPPEN.. Those buns can be basards for life apparently...

This pickle didn't care about the reunion snub. I glanced at the "gloat photos" -buns, some obviously VERY stale, lettuces that had wilted or had become way too close too nature with excessive body hair and "natural smells", the cheeses were aimless, not committed and out of work and although, the patties were still smart and knew lots of things about money and stuff,  those stock market freaks and intelligent professors of contitutional law blah blah blah sorry I dozed off! Nooo. These was no jealosy or longing at all with this pickle...

Cause let's face it? Have you seen my Gehrkin husband?? He can lay side by side with me on a burger any old day...