Monthly Archives: March 2008

>Tonight’s dinner

>I’m lazy. I admit it. I know it. It isn’t that I don’t like to cook, I just don’t want to. So, tonight I’m having an eclectic* dinner of beer, baby carrots, and later… popcorn. I’m only blogging about this less-than-spectacular dinner fare because of the carrots. I’ll explain in a minute.

I’m very happy with the beer. It is a Fuller’s Organic Honey Dew (“Refreshing Golden Beer”) and although it is definitely NOT a Sleeman’s Honey Brown, it is a tasty beer.

The popcorn that I am going to go make in a moment was actually a present from a flatmate. I had asked where I could get the sort of popcorn one makes a mess of the stove with in this country, and she found some for me. I plan to make it soggy with the goodness of hot sauce.

The carrots. I don’t really like raw carrots. I like cooked carrots (I bet my moms is shaking her head as she reads this… when I was younger I hated cooked carrots. Now: yummy) but I’m not as big on the raw ones usually. I think it is because the big ones are a pain to cut up, and embarrassing to eat whole (as Brendan says about bananas… I never know where to look when I’m eating a big ole carrot either). I hate those genetically mutated little wee carrots too. They frighten me and they are just plain wrong. And I know they are wrong because I always think that I’m choking on them when I’m eating them. It is as though they don’t want to go all the way into my stomach. Carrots should not possess the mental prowess to rebel against being fully digested. And I can eat 5000 of them and somehow feel flipping hungrier when I’m finished.

But these are special baby carrots. They are real carrots picked small – not the like those other freaky carrots that are given anti-growth serums to retard** their growth. They remind me of raiding my friend Trish’s garden when we were seven (except those carrots were better because we were “stealing” them and they got washed off with a garden hose). These carrots were grown especially for me by “Clive Evans” in Spain. I don’t know who Spanish Clive is… but grazie for the carrots, dude. The packaging further tells me that they are “for a variety of cooking uses or raw in salads”. I’m not that dedicated: I just ate ’em. Right. From. The. Package. With beer.

The best part of the packaging though is this: “trimmed. young & tender”. And oh, the jokes I would like to make about that! I’m not saying anything though and you can just imagine where my mind went with that one…

*I was so sure that I spelled that incorrectly that I looked it up. Twice.
** Heh heh.

>Cursed Part… Oh forget it… I’m just freaking cursed, alright?

>So, what I haven’t mentioned quite yet is that there has been a Buddy3. He was very nice and we ate pizza. I think though that I was a lame date that night. I was pretty tired and I realised afterwards that I answered more questions than I asked. Oopsie. I like to talk about myself, and when I’m tired I’ll do that without thinking. We’ve been in touch since via email, but I don’t necessarily see a second date coming. He has the potential to be normal and I don’t hear from him? Cursed.

But there is another part of the Curse. The date with Buddy2 went well, so I decided I would meet him again. He is a very sweet guy: I suggested that we go for Italian somewhere near his place (he lives in Victoria, about halfway from work to home for me) and he did research. He walked around the area and then went online and found a menu. How stinking cute is that? We had a great meal and a nice night. I’m even beginning to think that I could move past the deafness if he is really cool even though it would mean never sharing rad music with him (which is important to me) or going to the cinema and stuff.

So… what about the Curse? I wouldn’t be writing about this if there wasn’t something wrong… right?

Sigh. Right.

Well, here’s the Curse, and something that I wasn’t really expecting. The problem is that he likes me. No, no. Really likes me. As in… sigh. Okay, so when you sign up for Match (I’ll explain just in case aren’t desperate enough to shop for dates online and don’t know how it works) they email you profiles that match what you are looking for in a date. Well, I guess Buddy2 got one of these messages, and I was one of his matches (note: he isn’t one of mine). So he clicked on my picture and noticed that I’ve been active lately on the site. So, I guess he hasn’t been. Oops.

He emailed me to let me know that he isn’t upset by this, but sad. Apparently, after just two freaking dates, he thought things were more serious than I do. I’m still checking out other dudes on my way to meet him… he’s picking out fucking china patterns.

Now, I do realise that this could be something wrong with me. I shouldn’t find him less attractive just because he likes me. And don’t even start in on me… I’m not scared. I just don’t trust that someone could get so involved so quickly. Especially someone who could like me that quickly. I pride myself on being a bit caustic and a bit of a bastard. Maybe that isn’t coming across because I have to write everything down. And writing down all the extra swear words I would normally use to distance myself is just too much of an effort when trying to communicate with a pen and paper.

I’ve emailed him back tonight to let him know that I do think he’s cool, but I don’t think he should be thinking about honeymoon destinations just yet. We’ll see how that goes. I tried to not be an asshole about it. But sometimes I’m kind of an asshole.

Other than that, things are pretty quiet on the dating front. I’ve been more wound up with work and flat-hunting to pursue much more meat at the moment. EW! I can’t believe I just referred to dating as “pursuing meat”. I probably deserve to be Cursed….

Tonight's Dinner

 
I’m lazy. I admit it. I know it. It isn’t that I don’t like to cook, I just don’t want to. So, tonight I’m having an eclectic* dinner of beer, baby carrots, and later… popcorn. I’m only blogging about this less-than-spectacular dinner fare because of the carrots. I’ll explain in a minute.
 
I’m very happy with the beer. It is a Fuller’s Organic Honey Dew ("Refreshing Golden Beer") and although it is definitely NOT a Sleeman’s Honey Brown, it is a tasty beer.
 
The popcorn that I am going to go make in a moment was actually a present from a flatmate. I had asked where I could get the sort of popcorn one makes a mess of the stove with in this country, and she found some for me. I plan to make it soggy with the goodness of hot sauce.
 
The carrots. I don’t really like raw carrots. I like cooked carrots (I bet my moms is shaking her head as she reads this… when I was younger I hated cooked carrots. Now: yummy) but I’m not as big on the raw ones usually. I think it is because the big ones are a pain to cut up, and embarrassing to eat whole (as Brendan says about bananas… I never know where to look when I’m eating a big ole carrot either).  I hate those genetically mutated little wee carrots too. They frighten me and they are just plain wrong. And I know they are wrong because I always think that I’m choking on them when I’m eating them. It is as though they don’t want to go all the way into my stomach. Carrots should not possess the mental prowess to rebel against being fully digested. And I can eat 5000 of them and somehow feel flipping hungrier when I’m finished.
But these are special baby carrots. They are real carrots picked small – not the like those other freaky carrots that are given anti-growth serums to retard** their growth. They remind me of raiding my friend Trish’s garden when we were seven (except those carrots were better because we were "stealing" them and they got washed off with a garden hose). These carrots were grown especially for me by "Clive Evans" in Spain. I don’t know who Spanish Clive is… but grazie for the carrots, dude. The packaging further tells me that they are "for a variety of cooking uses or raw in salads". I’m not that dedicated: I just ate ’em. Right. From. The. Package. With beer.
 
The best part of the packaging though is this: "trimmed. young & tender". And oh, the jokes I would like to make about that! I’m not saying anything though and you can just imagine where my mind went with that one…
 
 
*I was so sure that I spelled that incorrectly that I looked it up. Twice.
** Heh heh.

Cursed Part… Oh Forget It… I'm Just Freakin' Cursed, Alright?

 
So, what I haven’t mentioned quite yet is that there has been a Buddy3.  He was very nice and we ate pizza. I think though that I was a lame date that night. I was pretty tired and I realised afterwards that I answered more questions than I asked. Oopsie. I like to talk about myself, and when I’m tired I’ll do that without thinking. We’ve been in touch since via email, but I don’t necessarily see a second date coming. He has the potential to be normal and I don’t hear from him? Cursed.
 
But there is another part of the Curse. The date with Buddy2 went well, so I decided I would meet him again. He is a very sweet guy: I suggested that we go for Italian somewhere near his place (he lives in Victoria, about halfway from work to home for me) and he did research. He walked around the area and then went online and found a menu. How stinking cute is that?  We had a great meal and a nice night. I’m even beginning to think that I could move past the deafness if he is really cool even though it would mean never sharing rad music with him (which is important to me) or going to the cinema and stuff.
 
So… what about the Curse?  I wouldn’t be writing about this if there wasn’t something wrong… right?
Sigh. Right.
Well, here’s the Curse, and something that I wasn’t really expecting. The problem is that he likes me. No, no. Really likes me. As in… sigh.  Okay, so when you sign up for Match (I’ll explain just in case aren’t desperate enough to shop for dates online and don’t know how it works) they email you profiles that match what you are looking for in a date. Well, I guess Buddy2 got one of these messages, and I was one of his matches (note: he isn’t one of mine). So he clicked on my picture and noticed that I’ve been active lately on the site. So, I guess he hasn’t been. Oops.
 
He emailed me to let me know that he isn’t upset by this, but sad. Apparently, after just two freaking dates, he thought things were more serious than I do. I’m still checking out other dudes on my way to meet him… he’s picking out fucking china patterns.
 
Now, I do realise that this could be something wrong with me. I shouldn’t find him less attractive just because he likes me. And don’t even start in on me… I’m not scared. I just don’t trust that someone could get so involved so quickly. Especially someone who could like me that quickly. I pride myself on being a bit caustic and a bit of a bastard. Maybe that isn’t coming across because I have to write everything down. And writing down all the extra swear words I would normally use to distance myself is just too much of an effort when trying to communicate with a pen and paper.
 
I’ve emailed him back tonight to let him know that I do think he’s cool, but I don’t think he should be thinking about honeymoon destinations just yet. We’ll see how that goes. I tried to not be an asshole about it. But sometimes I’m kind of an asshole.
 
Other than that, things are pretty quiet on the dating front. I’ve been more wound up with work and flat-hunting to pursue much more meat at the moment. EW! I can’t believe I just referred to dating as "pursuing meat". I probably deserve to be Cursed….

>Stairless step

>

I hate it when I’m walking up the stairs in the dark and I think there are more stairs than there are. And I do that last step where there is no stair. Do you know what I’m talking about?

At least I didn’t spill my tea!


Original Comments:

Carey wrote (on 12/03/08):

lol, you drink tea…
you are so british

Stairless Step

 
I hate it when I’m walking up the stairs in the dark and I think there are more stairs than there are. And I do that last step where there is no stair. Do you know what I’m talking about?
At least I didn’t spill my tea!

>You can’t rush honey, honey

>So, I do this weird thing where I put honey in my coffee. I know, I know: Honey goes in tea. Well, it goes in coffee too. I have this (probably misguided) notion that honey is better for me than sugar. I guarantee it is better for me than artificial sweeteners. Even though it does come out of a bee’s bum.

Anyway, I am at work and just got up to make myself a cup of coffee (with honey) as the weather is horrid today and killing my vibe (which isn’t good as it is, seeing as how I have to work). I thought some warm, comforting (and honey-sweet) coffee might perk up my mood.

Well, I get to the coffee station (we have nothing so glamorous as a “break room”) and the honey is nearly empty. So I’m standing there, waiting for the last of the honey to slowly drip out of the container. At first I was impatient about it as I hate waiting for anything. But then I realised that the honey was making me think of summer – it is the colour of sunshine and smells like flowers. Also, what was I in a big hurry for? To get back to my desk and continue grinding away at a training presentation? So instead of being impatient with an inanimate object (which I often am), I decide to chill, enjoy my three minute break, and think of summer.

So now I am back at my desk, enjoying my coffee, and thinking about summer despite the monsoon outside the office windows. It has become a much better day.

You Can't Rush Honey, Honey

 
So, I do this weird thing where I put honey in my coffee. I know, I know: Honey goes in tea. Well, it goes in coffee too. I have this (probably misguided) notion that honey is better for me than sugar. I guarantee it is better for me than artificial sweeteners. Even though it does come out of a bee’s bum.
 
Anyway, I am at work and just got up to make myself a cup of coffee (with honey) as the weather is horrid today and killing my vibe (which isn’t good as it is, seeing as how I have to work). I thought some warm, comforting (and honey-sweet) coffee might perk up my mood.
 
Well, I get to the coffee station (we have nothing so glamorous as a "break room") and the honey is nearly empty. So I’m standing there, waiting for the last of the honey to slowly drip out of the container.  At first I was impatient about it as I hate waiting for anything. But then I realised that the honey was making me think of summer – it is the colour of sunshine and smells like flowers. Also, what was I in a big hurry for? To get back to my desk and continue grinding away at a training presentation?  So instead of being impatient with an inanimate object (which I often am), I decide to chill, enjoy my three minute break, and think of summer.
 
So now I am back at my desk, enjoying my coffee, and thinking about summer despite the monsoon outside the office windows. It has become a much better day.

Thus endeth the feast

>I feel as though Friday’s Feast has started recycling, so I’m opting out of doing it. It was fun for awhile, and a few of them really made me think, but I don’t find them as helpful as I once did.

This may mean less blogging though. Sorry about that…

Thus Endeth the Feast

 
I feel as though Friday’s Feast has started recycling, so I’m opting out of doing it. It was fun for awhile, and a few of them really made me think, but I don’t find them as helpful as I once did.
This may mean less blogging though. Sorry about that…