21 May: Judgment Day & my birthday

Blimin typical.  Some scary old bird in a white uniform at the hospital was right. 

Straight after I was born, many moons ago, the Matron in the Maternity Ward read the wrinkles on my forehead (incidentally - they are returning at an alarming rate) and said that I'd have an incredible and amazing life.  Not an ordinary life.  Not a plain life.  Not a run-of-the-mill average life.  Nup.  An incredible and amazing life.  Damn.  Just my luck :-/

My 5th birthday & Electric Train Set (best present ever)

And today being Judgment Day is just the icing on the birthday cake.  Of all dates for Judgment Day to occur, it has to be 21 May.

So who is responsible for this date?  A Californian (of course) Doomsday prophet by the name of Harold Camping.  He has closely studied the Book of Ezekiel and has calculated that it will begin at 6pm on 21 May, no matter where you are in the world.  All the goody two shoes will rise up towards heaven, and the rest of us will be left with our feet firmly planted on the ground.  Good one gravity, ruin all my fun.

An earthquake will roll from city to city taking all the non-goody two shoes in its path and then a fire will start.  I'm pleased I'm in New Zealand, because I won't know what's coming, it'll just happen and ta da...another freaky prophecy will be fulfilled.

Did you know that you've got more chance of dying on your birthday than any other day of the year?  This is because of several reasons.  Firstly, people tend to take more risks on their birthday - they try extreme sports for the first time, they drink or party too much, or in the case of older people, they hang on until their special date then just quietly pass away.

I guess I need to be outside at 6pm on the off-chance that they select me amongst the other goody two shoes to rise up.  I don't want to knock myself out on the plasterboard ceiling, wooden roof struts or tiles when I ascend.  The selection criteria will probably be quite loose to start with (another benefit of living in New Zealand). I imagine they will toughen it up as heaven starts to get a bit noisy and crowded.  Poor old Mr Camping may not even fit the tough goody two shoes criteria by the time Armageddon gets to California.  I wonder if he's considered that?

Anyway, I know that no matter where I end up, I'm sure to know plenty of people ;-)  If it is the end of the world, we might as well go out partying.  Therefore, the party starts at my place at 5.30pm, moving onto the street at 5.59pm.

Finally, I would like to say happy birthday to my fellow 21st of May birthday peeps -  Mr T., Lisa Edelstein (Cuddy from House) and Ma'a Nonu (legendary rugby player and All Black).

See you all on the flipside.

Sneans & Jeggings - worst inventions EVER!

Ok, I'll start this by saying "each to their own".  However, one MUST draw the line somewhere, and I am bravely drawing it at sneans and jeggings.

There is no excuse.

No.  There's not.  Not one.  None.  Zip zero nada nothing.

Firstly, for the non-sneaners and non-jeggers reading this...what is a snean or a jegging, I hear you ask?  Both are major fashion crimes...M A J O R.

Sneans: Sneakers worn with jeans

Jeggings: Leggings in the style of jeans

Not all sneans are sneanish (yup, I just made that up).  For example "skater" style sneakers or Chuck Taylors or "dressy" sneakers are ok to be worn with jeans.  A snean is created when one wears RUNNING / CROSS-TRAINING / WALKING sneakers with jeans. 

Uh, helloooo?  If the sneaker was designed with a particular work-out purpose in mind, it is for working out.  Not day wear.  Not street wear.  Not anything but working out (probably in the gym) wear.

And jeggings...crikey...who on earth dreamed those up in a drug-induced haze?  According to fashionistas, jeggings are ok if you're size zero and have pencil thin legs.  The problem is that most Jeggingers (yeah, just made that one up too) aren't size zero, and don't have pencil thin legs. 

In fact, upon reflection, I've never ever seen a Jegginger less than a size 16.  No honey, jeggings DO NOT give the illusion of long thin legs.  Jeggings simply encase your legs.  They do not lengthen them.  They do not effectively "spanx" them.  They do nothing at all to make anyone into a supermodel.

I know you each know someone guilty of being a sneaner or jegginger.  And you're probably panicking.  Can this person be helped / saved / made to see the light?

Why, yes...yes they can.  Everyone has the potential to be "de-dorked" in the clothing department.  Everyone.  Trust me on this.  A friend went through a major de-dorking exercise on a complete dorky sneaner, and he's turned out wonderfully.

Here's some tips for de-dorking a sneaner:

1.  You may just need to buy him a cool pair of casual shoes.  Perhaps he doesn't have anything but sneakers and work shoes?  Fingers crossed its as simple as that.

2.  You could try the old "Oh babe, you were wearing those sneakers at the gym earlier, won't they still be hot and sweaty? Here put these on" as you hand him another footwear option.

3.  Or, harshly, but possibly the most effective "If you think you're going into public with me wearing that get-up, you're kidding yourself.  Get your ass back into the wardrobe and get changed or we are NOT leaving the house".

And tips for de-dorking a jegginger:

1.  Hide / throw out jeggings when they're not looking.

2.  Say "Holy *#$& those are ugly.  WTF made you buy them?  They're *&$%ing awful girlfriend".

Sneans...jeggings...there is NO excuse.


References:
"sneaner" @CrewcutWaikato (c) 2011

Postscript: Aforementioned @CrewcutWaikato found this sneaner in the Papakura McDonalds on Judgment Day.  It is definitely a nationwide problem.

But wait...there's more.  The following sign was spotted by @jinnee79 (again on Judgment Day).  When will this madness end?

Psycho Hose Beast

Up until tonight, I've really enjoyed twitter.  I've met some inspiring people, some very witty people (you try being funny in less than 140 characters) and of course little old me has some mindblowing followers like The Hoff and eternal hottie Jamie Durie.

However, about an hour ago, an in-joke fell on drunken ears, and this girl I'd never even heard of tweeted me with "DEAL WITH IT BITCH" when I teased a mutual friend about two-timing.  I was gobsmacked.  It was the first time I'd ever encountered such hostility on twitter.

On the upside (you've always gotta find an upside, right?), I now know first hand that twitter, just like real life, has its fair share of psycho hose beasts (ie: she's mental and she sucks). 

I'm reasonably resilient when it comes to being put through the wringer (decades of experience will do that to a person), so I'm over that tweet.  Whatever, PHB, whatever.

However, it does bring up my inability to think of a quick reply in real life.  With humour, yes...no probs (especially after ten pints of Speights).  Following an insult, not at all.  I must work on that. 

I never have a speedy reply for an insult, mostly because I am often speechless when people are directly cruel to others.  Its almost beyond my comprehension.  The world is such a better place when we all get along.

Uh oh, if I keep blogging, I could quite possibly break into a folk song.  Cue end of blog, I think. 

So to wrap this all up, I believe I am thankful that a psycho hose beast has reminded me in a timely manner that there are all types on twitter too.

Electile dysfunction...and allergies

This phrase was so brilliant, that I just had to use it as a title for a blog.  It was coined by a Canadian friend on twitter following the elections held last weekend.

As a result of the title, I started to write a blog on politics, but it was incredibly boring and I gave it the old heave ho.  I then went to twitter and pleaded for inspiration.  Several suggestions were offered, but I'm going with allergies.  Thank YOU inspiration provider :-)

Until three years ago, I could count my allergies on one hand - pollen, mushrooms and velvet (more on that later).

Let the real blog begin.

Several years ago when eating a banana, I felt my throat constrict, and I went into histamine mode.  A few months later, and celery gave me the same reaction.  Then raw onions, cucumber, plums, peaches, apricots, etc, etc.  In the last week, I've discovered I'm allergic to almonds and today (yes, today!)...lettuce. WTF?  Lettuce.  How bizarre is that?  OMG, I am gonna die of scurvy!!!

What brought all this on?  Well, according to my BFF Google, if you've suffered extreme hayfever as a child, chances are that later in life, you can get adult onset Oral Allergy Syndrome.  When you bite into something, for example a peach, the body recognises the proteins in the peach as pollen and immediately the histamine mode is triggered upstairs in the ole brain department.

I've started taking antihistamines with me everywhere now.  Today's lettuce reaction was the icing on the cake. I'm furious about this latest addition to the list.

Note to self: Good on ya body, you're really making friends with me at the moment.  If you don't watch out, when I get rich, I'm going to attack you with all sorts of plastic surgery.  So, nyah nyah body - mind your step.

Right, thats the food allergy portion over.  Guess you're still wondering about my velvet allergy.

Um, before I go any further...I'm swapping the word "velvet" for the "v- word".  The Magical Talking Cat also uses the term v-word when referring to the Vet.  In this instance, my blog, my v-word, sorry MTC.

Why, v-word you ask?  Because the actual word literally makes my skin crawl.  If you could see me now, you'd see goosebumps on my arms, hairs standing up on the back of my neck, sweat on my brow and me rubbing my fingertips together furiously.  Oh yeah, its a really stunning sight.

I don't know why.  I don't know when.  I don't know how.  All I know is that the thought and feel of the v-word fabric makes me cringe...and sweat...and makes my fingerprints itch.

Allergies only become a problem when they impact on your day to day life, right?  Well, my v-word allergy has done that.  One of my major passions is musical theatre, and I've been in the wardrobe team for the last seven years at the local theatre company.

What use is a dresser when they can't handle half the costumes?  Yep, you guessed it.  No use at all.  Luckily for me, the theatre company (a) has a fabulous glove drawer and (b) everyone else is also slightly mad.  They don't seem to mind when I don my favourite pair of purple gloves (incidentally finished with purple ostrich feathers on the cuffs) to dress cast members.  There is a photo of me wearing said purple gloves whilst unpicking a v-word cape about four years ago, but I can't find it at the moment.  I'll keep digging.

I've tried to get over it.  The wardrobe team have tried to conquer my allergy with their various methods of subliminal advertising and verbal mentions.  On some occasions, I've had to run shrieking and screaming from the room when someone has flung an item in my direction in a futile attempt to cure me.  I think its fair to say that after 7 years, they've given up.  Yes, all hope is lost.

Or is it?  Would hypnotism work?  Should I?  Could I?  Would I? Or should I just accept that this is one of those weird things that makes me, me?  I'll keep pondering it. 

In the meantime, I'll thank you to not mention or wear ("Sista Mary Turquoise" - I'm talking to you) the v-word ;-)

T M I

I'm only on the second post, and I'm already thinking about how much is too much information?


Do I ramble on about the "real" me, or do I keep it light-hearted, upbeat and fun, and simply use this forum as a way to entertain?  Ah, decisions, decisions.


Yes, I know you're supposed to write for your audience, but bloody hell...this is the internet.  Goodness only knows who my audience actually is.  More than likely its YOU, or a variation of you ie: friends of mine or friends of friends.  The likelyhood of someone random stumbling across Yeah Nah, Not Even Ow is fairly slim at the moment.


So, bearing in mind that you're you and I'm me and chances are that we are kind of friends (even default friends through mutual acquaintances), maybe I need not worry about too much information.


But, relax.  I'm not going to give you blow by blow accounts of visits to the orthodontist or podiatrist.  I DEFINITELY won't bore you with recipes, because I happily admit to being the worst cook in the world.  Even the "Magical Talking Cat" (thats my cat's online handle) doesn't attempt to eat the food I create at home.  Nor will you ever get budgetary, relationship or religious advice.  Each to their own when it comes to pingers, roots and God.


I'll just plow on with this blogging business and see where it takes us.  I've told you where it won't take us. 


TMI?  Pfft.  We're friends...kind of.

Yeah, nah, not even ow

"Yeah, nah, not even ow".  But what does it meeeean?


Loosely translated, it means "as if".


Oh, whats that you say? "As if" doesn't mean anything to you either?  I guess you're not a kiwi then.


If you're going to follow this brand new blog, you'll need to learn the meaning of some standard kiwi words and phrases such as "pingers", "choice", "mean as", "munted", "sesh" and "sweet as".


Pingers = coins. Choice = fantastic. Mean as = incredible. Munted = ruined. Sesh = party. Sweet as = ok.  I dare you to use one or more of those terms during your social intercourse tomorrow.


Nail that lot, and you'll be sweet as for any future blogs.  Even ow.


PS: Yeah, nah, not even ow = as if (duh) = no way mate.
PPS: Even ow = yes mate.