Violator

I feel a bit bad naming this post after one of my favourite albums.

Albums. passé anyway?
Yes/No/Discuss?

Deviation: whenever I bought a "Best Of" album ( usually heavily discounted ) I never played it, it always felt cheap. Albums are concepts, so even if you fast-forwarded the self-indulgent instrumental, or the crap filler song, it was always PART OF THE ALBUM and belonged there. 

I worry about sound-byte-society as well as my own diminishing patience as anyone in the car with me can attest to:


la la la la .. oh I love this song .. OVER IT .. la la .. no.. BORING .. next! .. la la ... remember when this was cool? .. pause .. LAME! .. move on.


I mean really, what am I teaching my kids?
Not patience, that's for sure.

I lost it somewhere .. along the way..

It makes me sad, but I haven't changed because I was always always bored with the offerings of childhood .. they seemed very very limited and needlessly so.

But now, everything is so fast, and nothing gets a chance, and .. I don't know.

Anyway, in true style, none of this has anything to do with the reason I was posting in the first place.

I'm talking about rape.
In my own home.






Today I came home from the laundromat* to find my youngest's bedtime softie in the hall.
Looking used.
And discarded.

It makes me ikky.

For I have owned and known a lot of cats in my time.
All of mine have been 'desexed', although i've seen some things.


Caught in the patio light.
Ruining a re-run of Back to the Future and rendering the bowl of popcorn no longer appestising.
I've stayed on farms, witnessed birth and .. Spring ..

But now I have a pet with a private, vested interest in a soft toy. ONLY this soft toy .. and ONLY in the moments reserved for alone time.

It's all quite ikky ( although it's all CLEAN folks .. just .. weird )
See the 'pomp' marks on his back?

Sheldy bites this dear toy on the back of its neck and merely stomps rhythmically on him.
Sure it's all innocent .. until said 4yr old sees his favourite nightime cuddle being attacked.


Poor Catty :(



*laundromat .. my garage at the old place .. hooked up to the backyard tap.

Flattin'

When I first moved to Melbourne as a 21yr old to begin my first job that didn't involve flattering middle-aged businesss men who should know better while serving them parmigianas and gins, I moved into a little flat with no fridge.

I had a 2nd/3rd/4th/16th hand mattress i'd been 'gifted' at Uni, a Papasan chair that was a 21st gift, and some 2nd hand things from a relative that had just got married ( and therefore got new cutlery etc ).
I didn't have much, but I loved my little flat.

I went to work with middle-aged things from the burbs. I think I was a bit of an enigma, and maybe something to be pitied. I'm not sure. They were all having affairs and it was a very secretive place to work, but I only learned this later. Once I knew all their secrets, they finally accepted me as trustworthy, but the thing was, I realised it was better when I didn't know why they didn't seem to include me. Anyway.

I got a flat within walking distance to work, and they could never work out why I didn't take the train or buy a car ( hello, 1. - the train took like 90mins, walking, around 40mins .. and 2. I had no money, I was fresh out of self-funded Uni, and wouldn't pay off my HECS debt for another 10yrs )
Plus, I was living in a very old suburb, and I got to walk past picket fences, and old people tending their roses every morning. It really put a spring in my step, I loved it.
When it rained though, my pants would be drenched from the knee down .. but still, I loved the walk.

At least I gave them something to talk about. Or pity. Who knows.
I guess in my new role as a 40+ suburban mum, maybe i'd pity and gossip about that girl too.
Hopefully though, maybe i'd just be nice to her.
And treat her less like an extra-terrestrial.

Who the Freak can live without a fridge?


Well, i'm here to tell you, that you can. You do. You just manage.
As people do. As they always will.

1. You don't drink milk in your coffee. If you've just come fresh out of Uni, you are used to an "artist's breakfast" anyway, and never, ever trust milk. It's always rancid, and you learn bitter is better. Until you can trust milk again ( for me, this took as long as the HECs debt )

2. You buy daily. It may be more expensive, but then, it may be cheaper. Who knows? I suppose I could embark on a study, but really, I don't care. It won't make any difference to my life right now, or later, so it's a moot point for me. You buy a little bit of food, then you eat it, and it's gone.

3. Again, i'm straight from Uni, so 2minute noodles is fine.
I'm cooking for one, and the key is survival, not gourmet.





So this time it's different, as i'm feeding a family of four, but i'm looking forward to the challenge.
Maybe we'll all lose a few pounds - that would be a nice bonus :)





As you can see, we seem to live on a diet of mayo & alcohol. Schweet! Call DOCs now!
I took the door off the "freezer" bit when we put some icetrays in there, and despite moving them around for 2 days to better please the Gods, no ice was yeilded. It does however create nice frosty wine and tonic, so swings & roundabouts I say.

I'd also like to not be judged on the Philly. I tried them as a cheese/paté subs, and .. no banana.
Sorry Philly. You are however, uber convenient when I am uber hungry, so kudos to that.

So, 6 months with a bar-fridge. I'm not worried at all.
I'm actually a little excited.


xx
Lea