Jogging up a Hill in a Terry Towelling Tracksuit

I'm back in the game, really this time, big, stretchy undies and all.

Yesterday, I finally made it up and over a big hill without giving up. I put it all down to Big Al's tough training regime. When I say tough, he hasn't got much of a pupil to work with so everything is relative. Perhaps that half marathon in August isn't just a pipe dream. All the way with Team Big Al.

You will also be overjoyed to hear that I have managed to keep to NCNS and haven't yet purchased a packet of supermarket chain cotton underpants, although tempting it has been. Yesterday I had to buy some non clothes and shoes household essentials so found my self wandering through the local shopping centre. Of course I couldn't help but window shop. I note the welcome or unwelcome (the jury is still out) return of the terry towelling track suit, in hot pinks and purples. The last time I wore a terry towelling tracksuit was when I was eleven. I loved it. However, no matter how they try to market them, terry towelling tracksuits are more suited to the mature lady. I'm sure we've all tried to politely push past an old girl at the supermarket decked out in her T T tracksuit,  tottering around on mid heel strappy bunion friendly sandals, coiffured purple hair and a billowing scarf wrapped around her neck. I must say though,  if it wasn't NCNS, I could well be tempted - purely for the comfort factor in the privacy of my own home,  or maybe jogging up a hill, but not as a fashion statement. I mean, will terry towelling ever be hip?

Another neighbourly moment.

I keep forgetting to take that sign off my forehead that says please treat me like a bucket of shit. Thankfully, a new neighbour reminded me of it just this week.

Jogging back home from one of my regular jaunts, I happened to jog past the house across the corner from me, which has recently sold. There was the new neighbour busily pulling out and destroying every piece of greenery in the front yard. Why is it that when people move in to a new house their new stamp is to always denude the front garden? Anyway I thought I'd just say a quick hello as a welcome to the street. Now you know my thoughts on neighbourly interactions. I'm a polite neighbourhood waver, not a neighbourhood invader, however I do think that if a new neighbour lands in the street, a quick warm, but let's keep a friendly distance welcome is not too much of an inconvenience.

Now, admittedly, I had just finished one of my power jogs and wasn't looking my best - All flushed, sweaty and probably a bit smelly. Aware of my state, I was not planning on inviting myself in for a cup of tea or a nose around the house. I just planned on a quick hello from the safety of the curb and then I'd be on my way.

So this is how it went:

Me: "Hello. I live across the road here and just wanted to say hello."
Neighbour: "What?"
Me: "Hello, I live across the road, I just wanted to introduce myself and say hi that's all."
Neighbour "Oh, yeah,yeah, I'll get to know you later," (accompanied by a dismissive wave of his hand.)
Me: Stunned silence
Neighbour: Carried on ripping plants out of the garden
Me: "Like hell you will, you rude bastard"

Well I didn't actually say that, but  I thought it as I turned away. Is it just the suburb that I'm living in that attracts arrogant types who lack basic social skills? Or is it because I jog? Or maybe he noticed my undies poking out the top of my t shirt?

Anyway, to hell with neighbours. No wonder no one talks to each other anymore - I mean, it's a jungle out there.

Trouble in Underpants Land

I have been offline for a while due to various reasons, but I'm back and I'm in a bit of a pantaloon pickle!

My once bikini briefs have stretched and are now full briefs, sitting just below my chin.  Threadbare undergarments poking out the top of my blouse is hardly the height of haute couture. But what about the G strings you ask? Well,  they stretched into the whole alphabet ages ago, rendered: non compos wearabis.  I'm not a fan of the G string anyway, far too intimate an apparel.  And, now that I am really back into jogging, I manged a five km shuffle this week, my underpants are under added pressure. 

You see, my dilemma is that all items of clothing including underthings are part of the NCNS.....brief (!), so, a lack of decent underpants is not what I need during a strict NCNS year. I should have stocked up before I embarked on this self imposed shopping celibacy, but planning ahead isn't one of my strong points, and now there is a real danger that I may have to purchase a pack of supermarket chain bulk buy underpants.

 I guess I could just include them as part of my regular grocery shopping expedition. I could casually push my trolley down the brightly lit personal hygiene aisle, throw in a few feminine hygiene products, and then nonchalantly brush up against the size 12-14 underpant rack (why is it they go from size 8-10 to 12-14 but no 10-12 inbetween?) and accidentally knock a pack so that it falls into my trolley without me noticing.  Then, none the wiser, I'd wander to the checkout and before I know it, the efficient operator has packed the rogue item at the bottom of my environmental shopping bag. Once home,  as I unpack the groceries..shock, horror... How did that get in there? I don't understand? What about NCNS? Oh well, I'd sigh, I really don't want to trudge all the way back to return a packet of underwear - especially as I've accidentally ripped it open and already donned a pair on my person.

Or, alternatively,  I could fashion some undies out of old curtains. But that sounds too much like hard work, plus I failed sewing at high school. No,  I think playing a sad little mind game with myself at the supermarket might be my best option to circumvent the NCNS rules, unless you have any other suggestions?

I too, am too pretty.

Another piece of newsworthy news that caught my eye this week is the Samantha Brick ramblings, lamenting the curse of being so pretty. I for one am glad she has brought this issue into the spotlight, for I too suffer the terrible affliction of being too damn pretty. But I must be prettier than Ms Brick because the reaction I get from men and women is quite different.

You see, men are so overcome by my gorgeousness, they actually have to avert their eyes. They pretend I'm not there. They walk straight past me in the street. They never thrust bouquets of flowers in my stunning face or buy me champagne, for if they did, they'd immediately fall under my spell, leave their wives and shower me with diamonds and gold.  Ignoring me is their only defence against the beauty that radiates from my person.

And as for other females, well I have no trouble making new friends. I think because I am just so pretty, women want to be near me, not only hoping that some of my prettiness will rub off on them, but knowing that all the men that are forced to ignore me, will direct all their attention on to them, buy them champagne, get them drunk and shag them. I hazard if you are a woman reading this, single, and on the look out for a man,  you will no doubt want to come out with me as you will have no problem finding a shag.

Yes, my good looks are a curse, but I've learned to live with them. They have got me where I am today - penniless and not able to buy new clothes and shoes. I daren't put a picture of myself here in case you are rendered apoplectic from my spellbinding beauty, so here's one of Julia Roberts. Not quite in my league of course, but reasonably pretty all the same.

Is a pregnant woman dancing news?

I need to rant.

I don't know about you but I'm getting a bit bored with some of these YouTube sensations being considered "news".  The latest is the "Preganant (sic) woman parodies LMFAO song." Now before you think that I'm all jealous because she's an instant worldwide hit thanks to the wonders of 21st century technology, and I'm still struggling to get anything published the old fashioned way, that is not the case.

 It just isn't worthy of taking space on "news" websites or morning "news" programs. It isn't news. It is entertainment, and I use that term loosely because it isn't that funny. Good on them for making a film, more than I'll do in my life, but why is it a sensation? Why is a video of a pregnant woman dancing to a song considered so hilarious and clever?  I'm sure we've all at one point in our lives danced around the house parodying a current pop song. This week, my family has been running around the house  parodying the One Direction Song to "Don't I know I'm Beautiful." I certainly don't feel the need to film us all, edit it and stick it on YouTube. Is it funny? To us, yes. To the rest of the world? Well I don't think so but if the world finds the pregnant parody funny then maybe it is.

The "news" websites are so intent on getting the most hits on their website and have dumbed down the news so much that a pregnant woman dancing is front page stuff. And people are lapping it up.  People are so busy that all they read is the headlines, so the real news is buried deep down in the bowels of the website, twenty mouse clicks away. Even two clicks is too much for our "I want it now society", so we remain "real news ignorant". And if these websites do try for a news angle, it is usually some sordid, unsavoury story that is designed to titillate rather than inform.

Preganant (sic) woman dancing - not news and not funny and don't get me started on the spelling on "news" websites. The only winner is the owner of these websites who doesn't have to pay for the pictures. And he's laughing all the way to the bank. Ch-ching!

I just had to get that out there. Am I just a grumpy old woman who's woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or do others agree with me?

The manuscript, the cockroach and the cat.

It is very late.

I just submitted another manuscript into the ether and then I killed a great big cockroach. I'm not sure which was the most satisfying. I think it was the manuscript, because although I hate cockroaches, I don't like long drawn out deaths. It kept dodging my shoe so I had to resort to smothering it with some radioactive strength bug spray. And now the cat is playing with it, which really isn't a good idea. My cat has enough problems as it is without adding a radioactive glow to the list. He's very fat and a bit weird but we don't tell him that.......



I've used soft focus to enhance his handsomeness

I've shooed the cat away and scraped up the cockroach - it made that awful cracking sound as I folded it in half in a wad of tissues. Not nice.

So, I actually have to WASH the dishes?

My dishwasher is broken! How desperately inconvenient!

I didn't realise what an intimate relationship I had with it until it stopped working. Of all my kitchen gadgets, ice cream maker and unused coffee machine included, my dishwasher is my favourite. Mind you my fridge hasn't broken yet, although I know it is on its way out. It is freezing the vegetables and random food bits, but I'm choosing to ignore this problem right now. My oven broke a while ago but as I have a cook top, a slow cooker, a BBQ and a George Forman Grill, it wasn't that much of an issue except the bench top was a bit crowded. My washing machine hasn't broken yet. I don't know what I'd do if that happened but that is in the laundry so I'd say that is my favourite laundry appliance. Therefore the dishwasher remains my favourite in the kitchen.

It's beauty is that it washes dishes and I don't have to. Yes, I have to rinse dishes and stack them in the the dishwasher, and I must say that unpacking the dishwasher is a drag, but on the whole, the fact that it does what it says is just wonderful. Another fabulous feature of my dishwasher is that I can hide things in it. When it all gets too hard I just shove it all in the dishwasher and, viola, it's gone - and I am at peace with the world.

A broken appliance is the enemy of the working poor. No matter how cheap everyone says things are these days, to get them fixed or replaced with a decent model is an expensive exercise. Big Al will try and fix my dishwasher but he is an engineer, so no doubt I'll be calling the plumber next week and making his monthly mortgage repayment for him.

I don't think I could have survived in the days before dishwashers. Kitchen appliances make life for dreadful housekeepers like me who rage against cleaning so much easier. They are mandatory to maintain a balanced state of mental health. But when they break, it's like losing a a part of you - and your mind goes with it.

What kitchen appliance helps keep your mental health balanced?