web-goddess

At long last, I’ve managed to upload all the pictures from our trip back to the States in November. I even scanned in the official wedding shots from our big day in Vegas! You can also see us play in the snow, eat various deep-fried novelty items, and tour San Francisco in the freezing cold. Fun, huh?

Wow, Mary-Helen won one of the big Tapestry Craft gift baskets we were raffling off last week! I swear I didn’t rig it; I wasn’t even here when they drew it. But how cool is that? Obviously, being one of my knitting buddies makes for good karma. (Well, if you can consider a big basket full of lurid novelty wools “good.”)

A Man and his Barbie
The Snook and I took advantage of the post-Christmas sales today to do some “manly” shopping. (It was manly both in our no-nonsense approach and the type of items we bought.) First stop was DJ’s to cash in our wedding gift vouchers for some new knives. The Snook had his heart set on Global, so that’s what we got: the roast slicer, the vegetable knife, and the 10cm paring spear. Then we headed to Barbeques Galore to finally fulfill the great Aussie dream of owning our own barbie. We ended up with the Billabong model. Here’s the Snook grilling our inaugural round of snags. Of course, we also threw some prawns (i.e. shrimp) on later. They were delicious. (And I don’t even like seafood!) So now we’re embarking on a Grill Fest. Anybody got any tried-and-true BBQ recipes they want to share?

What a horrible tragedy. I was interested to find out if the top end of Australia registered any big waves, but apparently we’re safe. This MetaFilter thread pointed me to first-hand accounts of many Asian bloggers in the area.

We ended up having a much happier holiday than expected. It started when we got special package in the mail from my Mom. It was a Christmas ornament that played a pre-recorded message from my little brother Joey: “Merry Christmas to Mr. Snook and Kristy. We love you!” I started bawling as soon as I heard it. We spent Friday relaxing and getting ready for our feast over at Amy’s today. We even made some very special gingerbread cookies. Can you guess what the shape is? (I bought the cutters at an op shop a few years ago. Some disgruntled Aussie tourist must have gotten rid of them.) On Christmas Day the four of us headed out to Taronga Zoo to visit the monkeys and the meerkats. Snookums and I had a close encounter with a koala and recorded our very own special holiday message for Joey. (He likes koalas.) Then we headed back to Amy’s place for a Mexican feast complete with two very Aussie desserts: homemade summer pudding and pavlova. Whew. I’m stuffed. I’m looking forward to two more days of relaxation before I head back to work…

The notion that a size 16 actress is such a “fat pig” as to star in a taboo-busting play about fat acceptance just churns my stomach. You know what separates me from that actress? About two inches of height. I had no idea I was exposing the Snook to such societal ridicule. (She says with sarcasm and bitterness…)

Bah, humbug.
I’m just not in the holiday spirit. I wonder why. Could it be – oh, I don’t know – the old man who shat his pants in the store yesterday? Apologies for being crude, but I’m still really not over it. And I’m not exaggerating. I was helping a nice man pick out a Christmas gift for his daughter when the old fella, who’s been in the store before, walked up with some tapestry wools in his hand. He was sweating and shaking, but he’s always been a bit weak and I’ve had to get him a chair before so he could rest. This time, the customer and I both recoiled in horror. He stank. It was an ungodly smell. In retail you smell a lot of stinky people, but he was the worst ever. He mumbled something as he set down his wools and returned to get more. The customer I was helping had basically fled to the other side of the store. I rang up his sale and he gratefully fled outside. Then the old guy returned. He put down another handful of wools and gasped that he needed a chair. I ran for a green plastic lawn chair that we had sitting near the framing department. As he collapsed in it, I noticed that his shorts were extremely dirty. “Could he…? Nah.” I thought. “He’s just old and smelly.” I rang up his wools while standing as far from him as possible. I handed him his change as he staggered to his feet. Then he turned and headed for the door. My jaw – and those of my co-workers – dropped. His gray shorts were completely covered in crap, and he had it smeared all down his calves too. It was horrific. Bridget and I ran for the paper towels and Windex, which was all we could find. We wiped down the chair as best we could and took it downstairs to be disinfected. Three hours later I swear I was still smelling poo everywhere.

And how was your holiday shopping experience?

Your Honor, I stand accused of disgusting myself.

Exhibit A: I went in search of a “LOVE THE O.C.” t-shirt after the Snook told me he spotted them in the Imperial Arcade. I told myself that I would only wear it “ironically,” but everybody knows that’s a lie, right?

Exhibit B: I hesitated once I determined that the vile Supré had the shirt for sale, but ultimately I went in anyway. I tried not to look directly at the jelly shoes or camouflaged ra-ra skirts.

Exhibit C: I spent fifteen humiliating minutes searching through racks of XXS sizes to find the one single Large tank top in the whole bloody store.

Exhibit D: I paid $20 for a shirt too small to wear out of the house. (But not too small to flaunt on my DeskCam.)

Exhibit D: The salesman adamantly refused to let me leave without a flaming pink reusable Supré shopping bag which I then had to carry all the way home, thus announcing my shame to all the world.

Your verdict?

JK Rowling says: “It’s done.” Sweet!

So, I tasted Pocari Sweat.
On Sunday I went to joint blogger birthday party for Andrew and Eva out in Centennial Park. Since Andrew had e-mailed me after my last mention of Pocari Sweat to express his love for it, I figured a couple cans would be a good birthday present. Needless to say, he was pretty happy and he decided to share the joy by giving me a taste. I was hesitant. Plucking up my courage, I took a sip. My initial reaction wasn’t exactly positive, but I definitely wouldn’t say it tasted like “bodily fluid” either. I’d probably describe it as like a lemonade or Solo, but without any sugar. Kinda like a really crappy Gatorade. So while the taste isn’t totally vile, I still think the international marketing concept could use some work…