sarren

So I bought tickets for Harry Connick Jnr for me and cricketk - and shortly after that she got hit by a car.

Today I went to Karrinyup especially to pick up the tickets - and the ticket printing machine had just broken.

*is paranoid*

The girl said her computer said I could pick up my tickets at the venue from 'gate one' only. Yeah I can just see that going well. I'd end up getting lost in King's Park and ending up sacrificed in a satanic ritual or falling off the escarpment or something.

So I went and got them from Warwick, and then escaped, only having bought $5 pink-spotted thongs and $3 green Converse knock-off sneakers for Bunny from Best & Less.

Which weren't anywhere as pretty as the $80 Sketchers I drooled over in Betts Kids in Karrinyup. Seriously, $80 for kid's sneakers??? Even if they are silver and sparkly and embroidered. *sighs enviously*

Is there a drinking game for how many times the Winchester boys talk about their feelings?

Also, Smittywing has finally finished The Best Things In Life Are Free. Work is going to drag.

Also, bushland down the block burnt last night. Completely failed to notice the smell of smoke (hello? Watching Supernatural!) Twas the sirens that finally got us out to the back porch to gawk.

Also, KMart are having a sale, picked up the first couple of seasons of Deadwood and Entourage cheap.

Work is sucking SO MUCH right now. SO MUCH. Also, I am out of milk.

OTOH, things that are making me happy today...

I woke up from a great dream where the guy who plays Carson Beckett was hanging out in our lounge room. (I don't like Carson, and can never remember the actor's name) But in the dream, he didn't have the dodgy accent and was a GREAT GUY and really quite snuggly. And I remembered his name. And then DAVID HEWLETT CAME TO VISIT.

I wore my new jeans (bought second hand for $8) and they are the best jeans ever. Jeans and I don't usually go well together, but these are like they were made just for me. This pleases me probably more than is reasonable.

kageygirl is writing (and reccing) NCIS. Waking up to fic like this is just the BEST way to start the day :)

SGA songvids from this site http://www.geocities.com/derry667/SGindex.htm Especially Dumb Things and One Week (keepers) and International Man of Mystery is good for a laugh.

Also, Dragonfly is cooking bacon. I'm hoping she will share :)

Snuggling with special_trille over at jamaicablue. Not as cozy as Dome, and also no magazines with quizzes for Trille to do, but the coffee is better.

Me - Grr. I asked for my latte without froth! Twice!
Waiter - Would you like me to take it back and bring you a new one?
Me (more friendly, mollified by professionalism) No, I'll just pout for a long time.
Admiring random strangers at next table - Good answer!
Me - Ack! Get away from me, freaks.

Short time later

Me - Must start saving now in order to go to America in two years.
Trille - I didn't know you wanted to go to America. You want to go to Canada.
Me - I don't want to go to America. I'm afraid of America. It's just I really should visit my sister.
Trille - Are you afraid of the American authorities, or terrorists?
Me - Er..the people.

pause

Trille - Because of the drive-by shootings and stuff?
Me - It's all 'Deliverance' rednecks and Jerry Springer and reality TV and serial killers and people who can't find America on a map and who think there've been three world wars.
Trille - Well so is Adelaide, particularly the serial killers.
Me - Ooh, we have serial killers here too. Plus we had our first shoot out between armed robbers and security guards the other day. I'm so proud.

pause

Me - Also, I don't want to go to Canada. It's cold in Canada.
Trille - Oh, wait, it's me that wants to go to Canada.


Later, we decide to 'window shop'. Within seconds have both chosen jackets to buy. Trille's looks and feels like a snuggly soft toy. I forsee much petting of the Trille. Meanwhile, I admire myself in the mirror.

Trille - Are you Starsky, or Hutch?

(She's learning, mostly by being talked at a lot, and being shown selected bits, as she cries pitifully if I suggest watching an entire episode).

I get home, share Trille's witticism with dragonfly8.

Dragonfly - Is it brown, with fur on the collar?
Me - Yes, yes it is.
Dragonfly - You're so butch, Starsky.


Trille also helped me impulse buy really tight black jeans as my current pair only stay up if I remember to wear a belt. Bloody stretch jeans, damn them for being so comfy. I promised to give them to cricketk after she stood up at our last party and demonstrated how she could take off her own stretch jeans without undoing the button. I mentioned that I could also do this new party trick and was challenged to prove it. Luckily for me I couldn't find them right then as I had completely forgotton that in addition to the usual slash gang, there was also cricketk's boyfriend present. Major embarrassment averted through pure luck rather than any kind of forethought on my part. Par for the course, really, except that sometimes the pure luck part doesn't happen.

Hey, I'm awake, not at work or shooting up my drug of choice, Enterprise.

*blinks*

Swapping the Sat/Sun shifts meant three fun double shifts in a row for me, starting with the four and a half hours sleep I got Saturday night. Now somebody might think that I'd be wisely getting every second of sleep I possibly could on the other nights, but that somebody would fail to take into account that I'm a Fan; a Fan with episodes of her current obsession not yet watched

So, every night coming home late, knackered, staggering through the door, through the shower and into the loungeroom where dragonfly8 patiently waits, a tea brewing in the kitchen to keep me awake..

Two episodes later and off to bed to repeat the whole thing the next day.

Except that now it's all come to an end

sob

Until I can find a source for 3rd season episodes…

So now all I have left is the fic…

One beacon in the darkness that is the quality of Enterprise fic - I found a good writer.

sarren doing happy dances, happy dances, happy dances

Which is how I spent MY day off yesterday.

After I got through the obligatory real life stuff - lunch with my Dad [note to self, never order the main size calamari, even if it is cajun, a little calamari goes a long way]

Followed by stop at shops where I bought a pink hat to go with the pink sunnies and the pink and red earrings I was wearing (that the Amazing Talented Dragonfly8 made for me) Oh and a pink and red halter top because it was on sale for $7.

Me and pink, I'm wondering if I have a Problem….

God I can't believe I'm considering paying real money just so I can play around more in this new obsession of mine. How many icons can one person really need at her fingertips. Do I really need to create my own style page? And how many times am I really going to post an entry over the damn phone?

DON'T anybody be helpful and point out other fun things paid account ljers get to do. I don't want more excusesreasons to throw money away on frivolous things.

I want to save my money for the important things, like the miniskirt, the cosmetic jewellery and the Lawrence of Arabia DVD I bought today. Yes, all bought today.

The Sales are on. I spent a blissful couple of hours wandering in and out of shops. Salespeople would approach and ask if there was anything in particular I was looking for and little dollars signs would appear in their irises when I would say that I just liked to buy things.

In a perfect world Speranza would have minions to attend to all the dreary day to day stuff we do to sustain our qualitiy of life. I imagine her (sort of a Kosh without the encounter suit being) reclining at her leisure, worshippers gathered at her feet, one communing ecstatically with a laptop as pearls beyond price drop from the divine being's lips.. Others feeding her chocolate/pizza/coffee, yet others wave the palm fronds..

Hey, I just read a new Speranza story!


My fave item of clothing at the moment is my tracky pants. Imagine grey tracky pants in your mind's eye. (Not with me in them - your mind may melt) Now picture them Hipsters. Figure hugging. 3/4 length. Flared at the calf. And, with 'Miss Perfect' inscribed in white across the bum. And a cute little puddy cat on the front left thigh.

This is a Fashion Item. It was never meant to be owned by someone so backward, so old and set in their ways that they can't cope with the concept of wearing trackies In Public. (note. In Public does not include trips to the local shops or mates' places of residence.)

Yet wearing them to the gym seems like sacrilige. Actual vigorous movement of the limbs they encase. Probable sweatiness. They might be Marred. I Dare Not.

Segueing nicely into Fashion Do's and Don't at the Health Club..

I just joined one. Fit of insanity, what can I say. I mean, *before* Christmas???

So. Having joined up last Friday, I've swum lots and used the spa lots. That was also last Friday. On Tuesday, spur of the moment, I got someone else to take over my shift and raced home to leap into exercise clothes and race off to this great sounding dance/exercise class. It was very very cool, btw, so of course it's only scheduled when I'm working. Grr.

So, the exercise attire *shakes head sadly* Fairly decent sports crop top, bought last year (not for exercise, I just like them better than bras) But what to wear with? Regular trackies? Too hot, I think. (and not my puddy cat ones, oh no) Bike shorts, I reject with loathing. Even I know that they can't still be trendy. And without the mantle of fashion there is really no excuse for their existence on this Earth. So, daggy old shorts.

I knew it was a mistake the moment i walked into the hallowed halls..er..room. Apparently, the only acceptable exercise clothing for 2003 is figurehugging black pants with a white stripe down the sides of the legs (or even 2 or 3 if you want to be an individual) and a black singlet, also with the white stripe. OR, a tiny tiny t-shirt with writing on the chest.

I soldiered on, my head held high. Had a fun time tripping over my feet in time to music.

My feet. My poor, poor feet in old dead sneakers. Necessitated trip the next day to one of those high tech performance shoe stores. The staff there are Master Technicians. I know that because their gold badges say so. So, $150 and a free pair of Nike pink sports socks later (because I also bought a gift voucher) and I have the Right Shoes for Me. That will give my muscle knots in the balls of my feet cushioning, and support my falling arches (nothing to worry about, happens to most women apparently).

So, fun dance class. Made a new friend. As people who know me can attest, I talk to people at the drop of a hat. There doesn't even have to be a hat. Just for the person not to be actively scowling at me. So I positioned myself near the only other person in the room who wasn't 18 years old/size 8/wearing the black ensemble (with stripe!)
Initiated casual conversation (during water breaks obviously: attempting conversation while attempting to learn dance moves and keep up with beat would have been suicidal)

Stayed for the next class on her reccie. Very nice. Sort of tai chi combined with Pilates.

Pilates - what the? I hear you say. It's Stretching. *nodding knowledgably* Er.. sort of new agey?