Name: Karyn
I read a lot of other Blogs, journals and diaries. I make stuff. Sometimes I write stuff too. I kept a geocities diary for 3 years once. I'm hoping that will mean I'll keep posting here for more than a month or two.
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visited *loading* times
It's 4:15pm, and he's gone. Ahhhh. I can breathe again.
1 hour and 45 minutes shy of expected departure time.
Scott celebrated by taking a dump using the toilet with the door open.
Gross.
Discussions continue as to what exactly we are going to do with the back room.
In other news, I found a wonderful fabric store on Logan Rd, that has been there since the 60s. Everything is dusty and old...but the prices haven't changed since the 60s so everything is cheap. I got some fantastic fabrics and trims - and only paid $8 for everything. And the old lady who runs the shop was very nice and we had a lovely chat.
I am planning to make a pair of overalls, a shirt, a jumper/sweater and a dress for Blythe. I plan to make a complete "outfit" set and have a go at selling it on ebay.
| 1 | day |
| 33 | hours |
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| 121970 | seconds |
Today marks the beginning of the countdown to Tayler's departure.
There are exactly, including the day he leaves, 100 days to go.
Which can also be looked at as:
Dinner tonight was with the FDC ladies to farewell (again) one of the co-ordinators. I believe this is the third time we have had a dinner and said sayonara to this particular lady, alas like a bad penny she keeps coming back. It was with this in mind that I only contributed $2 to her leaving present. Dinner itself was at a local "Italian" eatery. In that Queensland way they have, all were raving about the food, and "Tony" (restaurant owner - he of the grimy shirtsleves and surly disposition), and the general fabulous-ness of it all. Well of course, it was mediocre at best. Prices, for a suburban "Italian" pizza/pasta/mains restaurant were way over the top, given the quality, presentation and atmosphere. The food was passable, but completely bland, the service was awful - slow, random and annoying as we were a large group and some meals were served 20mins apart (!), it seemed this stemmed from having the take-away and restaurant kitchen combined, causing peaks and troughs in the service within the restaurant. My "tiramisu", like all the deserts, was presented on tacky $2 shop glass plate, with a messy scrawl of aerosol "cream" and a cherry. One of those candied, fake, bright pink cherries.
So now, after being home for just a short hour, I am suffering a diabolical stomach churning, toilet splattering, price for eating out at Tony's.
Seeing John Mayer perform live I get a fluttery, school girl crush feeling inside. When he sings "...I'll never let your head hit the bed, without my hand behind it..." it makes me shudder. I find myself wishing I was 15 again, young and free and full of hope and wonder.
Given that I am now old, no longer full of hope or wonder, it's nice to catch a glimpse of John on the TV every now and again, and feel the fluttering of joy in my heart.
I just love me some BoobBlog . I always knew boobs were my thing. I remember back in grade 5 in Melbourne at my anglo saxon inner eastern suburbs primary school, doing a project on the heart, and discovering in the encyclopaedia a picture of naked women at various stages of development. My own heart fluttered as my eyes scoped out the boobs. I remember saying "I can't wait 'till mine look like that". At that moment, apart from arousing suspicion among my class mates, I knew boobs were my thing.
When I was in year 12 at high school, a particularly open and down to earth biology teacher was leading a discussion on inherited characteristics, and mentioned that in her family the women tended to have small, but downward pointing breasts. I was stunned that someone could so openly discuss their body, and reveal very casually what could be perceived as a flaw. It changed the way I thought, but also gave me much food for thought.
I'm not very close to my mother, and I have wondered if my breast preference is related.
The postman delivered yet another registered letter for our financially irresponsible housemate today. These registered letters are from a collections agency, and they have been arriving weekly for about two weeks - this being the third. Generally it appears that he gets these letters, ignores them, then sooner rather than later an actual live collections agent turns up. I wish I knew what was going on, but only because I'm a busybody.
I also think that Tayler is about to announce that he's moving out. Since we had our little discussion, he hasn't been home - instead he's been spending his evenings staying over at Dustin's, Adam's or who knows where, and only appearing briefly during the day - usually to do a load of washing or collect stuff from his room. He has been taking rather a lot of stuff with him each time he goes out, and not bringing any of it back. I also heard heaps of banging and crashing back there the other day and he emerged with all sorts of stuff he put in the rubbish bin - "just a bit of spring cleaning".
I'd be very happy if he announced that he was moving out. Scott is starting another uni course soon, and needs study/work space for that, and we're cramped enough in our study as it is. We need the back room! NOW. I am sending subtle "move out" vibes as much as I can.
So it is true, Ikea is Swedish for Out of Stock. We schlepped down the way to Ikea, to get a wardrobe that was advertised as being on sale for 2 days only...while stocks last. Hrhm Hrmm...ah, it was revealed to us that the "stock" consisted of 3, count them 1, 2, 3 wardrobes. There is ONE Ikea store serving the whole of Queensland...we arrived at the store at 9am, and by the time we had made our way to the warehouse section (in two minutes flat), all THREE of the wardrobes had been sold.
They have put us on the waiting list for further stock when it arrives. Lucky we are on the top of this list...I hate to think how many they will be getting in to top up their stock levels.
This was the wardrobe in question. Of course one can't venture out to Ikea without coming home with something. So I got four square-ey / round-ey plates - because our great big white restaurant plates WON'T FIT IN THE FUCKING DISHWASHER (and I didn't get a dishwasher just so I could continue handwashing dishes), a new ironing board - because our other one weighs a ton, and is 30 years old, and a new shower curtain - because our current one is mouldy and smelly because TAYLER won't leave it pulled across the shower when he's finished, instead it's all scrunched up and quietly moulders and mildews quietly to itself until I get in there and fiercely slash it across the length of the bath.
Grrrr, now I'm moaning about the shower curtain. Does my pettiness know no end?
I feel as though posting about Tayler and his misdemeanors is my only way of venting how pissy I feel about it all, without it spilling over and poisoning my entire home life.
Last night he arrived home at about midnight with a root in tow. No problem, I'm open minded. However they proceeded to bump uglies (whilst drinking coffee???) in the kitchen and lounge room for an hour or so. Bad luck for me if I wanted to get a drink or feed the cat, since I was up and around at that time. Then they staggered down the hall and disappeared into his room.
Upon emerging this morning at 7:15am, Tayler gave my spare toothbrush to his "friend". Uhh, riiight, didn't we just have a discussion about you taking advantage of us? He of the repeated jibes and comments about me always making sure I've got enough toilet paper on hand, spare toothbrushes, extra this or that. He's always having a go at me about this stuff - then he utlises my forethought to provide a toothbrush for his casual sex partner. Fuck I'm pissed off.
Over a toothbrush.
But it's so much more than just a toothbrush.
go here, choose someone, and do this. It makes me feel like I'm carrying a secret when I send one out.
It was chilly in the house today. After a house meeting advising that Tayler could no longer treat our 2nd car as his own, and because he had spent the last year running it into the ground whilst treating it as his own, he would be required to pay for it's impending major service, things have deteriorated into huffy storming around and pretending we don't exist. Scott also raised the laundry/dryer usage issue again, and that's when the house meeting almost came to blows.
So the meeting was suspended. Tonight after Scott and I got home from dinner, this weeks rent, 1/2 of the broadband money he owes, and the 2nd season of The Family Guy on DVD was on the table, along with a note. Blah, blah, blah, sorry to have made myself an annoyance, yadda yada, token of my sorrow, whatever whatever. I'm sort of sorry it's come to this, but really, roll on September I'm ready for Tayler to move out. In fact I can't wait for September to arrive, I'm already making plans about the back room and what I'm going to do with it once it's vacated.
This provided a useful diversion over the weekend. Shall we say that I rooted around in the drawers of the bathroom cabinet, where not one but two electric toothbrushes were idling, and even more interestingly and powerfully, an electric shaver designed for women also lay unutilised. I left the toothbrushes alone as they aren't mine, but the electric shaver proved its worth.
today
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