Little Stalky Loves her Snuggie

Now has anyone else seen the new Snuggie advert where they've created their own Snugtastic words and Snugtastic dance to the "classic" Macarena tune.  They have created the Snugarena.  And it's truly Snugtastic.  Picture the song...da, da, da, da, da, da macarena, la, la, la, la, la, la, la macarena, da, da, da, da, da, da Snuggie.  I love my snuggie!  Hey!  I do love my Snuggie.  Oh yes, I'm a Snuggie owner.  Though I must confess I haven't worn it to a football match or actually outside the house or anything.  I love my Snuggie but I don't love it that much.  I've noticed in the new advert that there seems to be all sorts of Snugtastic designs available now - leopard print Snuggies for those of us with a penchant for prints, skull and cross bones for teenagers who want something a little bit rebellious...whilst wearing their Snuggie, colours and patterns and all sorts.  It seems there's a Snuggie out there for everyone.  And the ideas of things to do in and with your Snuggie are endless.  Apart from keeping you warm I sometimes like to pretend that I'm a Jedi knight, with big sleeves and long robes.  I don't have a light sabre though so I guess I'm not a very good Jedi.  Can't even be trusted with a light sabre dag nabbit.  But imagine.  There could be Snuggie gangs and Snuggie dance offs.  I'd love to see a load of random people wearing randomly Snugtastic Snuggies launch into a random Snugarena in the middle of the street.  Fantastic.  I think I'd want to be part of the Snugarena.  Possibly hidden amongst the masses or on a brave day, leading the charge, proudly wearing my Snuggie whilst busting a move.  I feel that an impromtu Snugarena could really help to brighten someones day.  I think it would be contagious and everyone would start joining in, whether they owned a Snuggie or not.  Young and old, rich and poor, human and shark.  All come together in harmony for a most excellent Snugarena.  I can see the headlines now:  Small Town Gripped by Snuggimania.  Snuggiemania instigated by crazed Stalky.  Snuggiemania has gone viral.  Snuggies set for world domination.  Snuggie:  A Blanket Misunderstood.  Ok, I should stop now before I get carried away.  It's a Snuggie too far!

Little Stalky's Purple Sock

I miss my purple sock. I have two cool pairs of fluffy socks that keep my feet nice and warm in the evening and one is pink and one is purple and now one set…has been separated. I have one purple sock but the other has vanished. Disappeared into that strange black hole that seems to swallow socks. And sometimes pants but mainly socks. I wondered whether this might have been the washing machine taking one last swipe at me before it departed but I’ve investigated this notion and decided the washing machine has not stolen my sock. Having checked out the most devious household appliance and certainly the domestic device that despises me the most I then moved on to the tumble dryer. Possibly an ally of the washing machine but I’ve never caught them working together so I can’t be sure. The tumble dryer was not as easy to check out. Mainly because it’s fixed to the wall at a height that’s just out of reach for little Little Stalkys. I can reach my hand in and poke about but I can’t actually see anything in there. So I had a feel, nervous about what I might find and I must say whipped my hand out of there pretty sharpish when I felt something furry brush against my fingers. What fiendish and deadly Australian creature had crawled into the tumble dryer to await unsuspecting Stalkys? What cunning and evil presence had set up camp in preparation of the ultimate sneak attack? With Mystical Roo nowhere to be seen I was forced to venture back into the tumble dryer that was now a tumble dryer of potential doom. I gave a little jump but could see nothing in the darkness. I considered climbing atop the washing machine but decided my nemesis would probably see this as an opportunity to send me sprawling down onto the floor. Or perhaps into the sink. Down the loo? Regardless, assuming the washing machine would be happy for me to stand on it was not a good idea. I snaffled myself a coat hanger and used it to probe deeper into the tumble dryer of doom, listening for sounds of a fight. There was no movement from inside so I decided it might be safe for me to have another feel. What if my purple sock was hiding inside? Scared and alone. Missing it’s friend – the other purple sock. I had to go in. For socks around the world I had to go in. So I stuck my hand back inside, felt the furry unmoving beast and grabbed it! Pulled it back in one swift movement and saw…a sock! But not the sock. Just a sock. A Mystical Roo sock to be precise. I was pleased to have rescued a stranded sock but was saddened that the purple sock remained lost. So where next? Where could the sock possibly be? It’s not on the line. It’s not in the basket. It’s not in the ironing pile. It’s not in my underwear drawer. It’s not in Mystical Roos underwear drawer. It’s not anywhere! So where can this lonesome purple sock possibly be? There’s only one answer. The sock monster. I don’t know what it looks like, who it is or why it steals sock but I know the sock monster exists as sure as I know that eating more than three dried apricots in one sitting is a bad idea. The dreaded sock monster. Stealer of innocent socks and stalker of laundry across the globe! The one who nicks off with one sock and leaves the other sadly slumped in the washing machine. The one that plucks a dirty sock out of your laundry pile and leaves it on the floor just for you to notice once the door on the washing machine has locked and there’s no way to add that lone sock into the day’s wash. The sock monster. And now I have no doubt that the sock monster has my purple sock. The question is: Will I ever get it back? Somehow I doubt it.

Little Stalky Likes Some Stuff. Not Other Stuff

In moments of daydream I sometimes think about the things that I really like and the things that I really dislike.  And it's not always the obvious things that come time mind.  I like going to bed in freshly washed linen and waking up on a Saturday morning knowing that all the housework has already been done and I don't have a shift.  That's a great feeling.  I dislike waking up knowing the ironing pile is threatening to take control of the spare room, the washing up from last night has gone feral, I have a late shift and the weather has that umbrella thieving look about it.  That's a bad feeling.  I like it when Mystical Roo comes home and says to hell with it.  Let's have pizza.  And wine.  And a film.  Most excellent.  I don't like it when I can't get the end of the sellotape to come free from the rest of the roll and it ends up peeling in weird little clumps.  The toilet roll does that too you know and you end up with little bits of torn bog roll all over the floor.  Less excellent.  I like it when I can magically open a jar without the aid of rubber gloves.  I dislike it when the ring pull snaps off the top of the tin and I know the tin opener is broken.  I like it when a plan comes together.  Especially if it's a cunning plan.  I don't like it when I get a paper cut.  They hurt and bleed and you're randomly guaranteed to stick your cut finger into a pile of salt or vinegar or maybe even a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and you know that will hurt like hell.  I like buying presents for people that I know they'll love.  But it's a bugger when you see something someone will really love but don't have the money to buy it.  Or when you do have the money to buy something you can't find anything you want.  I like the way my eyelashes look when I put on my best mascara.  But I hate it when I sneeze mid application and a) poke my eye with the wand and b) get waterproof mascara smudged down my face.  Never a good look unless it's Halloween.  I like it when the grocery shopping has just been put away because I know there are treats stashed all over the place.  I don't like it when I get home and realise I've forgotten the key ingredient for the night's meal.  I like sneezing but I don't like getting a cold.  I like wallowing in the bath with a trashy magazine, a glass of wine and some strawberries but it's less fun when your mobile phone takes a dive to the bottom of the tub.  So in conclusion I can confirm that Little Stalky likes some stuff and not other stuff.  Enlightening isn't it.   

Mystical Roo or Mystic Moo?

I've noticed recently that Mystical Roo and I have started naming a lot of animals.  I don't know when this started or why it started but as I write this I've just realised that we started referring to cows as Mystic Moos back in England and this is very close to Mystical Roo so could it be that Mystical Roo is actually a bovine creature?!?!?  Ahem.  Anyway, that's one thing.  Cows - also known as Mystic Moos.  I know it was El Kenco who came up with that one.  My God, anyone reading this will wonder if I just make words up as I go along.  Ahem.  Anyway (again) I was thinking about the random naming of various creatures as we wandered around the harbour over the weekend.  We saw the resident stingray chilling out near a boat and my immediate thought was, hmmm, what can we name this sting ray.  Should we call him Sting?  Should we call him Ray?  Is that all just too damned obvious.  Perhaps we should call him Fredericko just to be different.  Why am I assuming he's a he.  He could be a she.  Perhaps we'll call him Lois.  Perhaps he/she/it already has a name.  Perhaps I should consult Mystical Roo.  I don't think we ever came to a decision so the stingray continues to be simply known as - the stingray.  Mystical Roo refers to the seagulls as Steven.  As in Steven Segall.  That took me a while to get but in my defence I wasn't really sure who Steven Segall was.  I'm still not 100% sure but I believe him to be an actor of sorts.  So now whenever I see seagulls I don't see seagulls but Stevens.  We've even started nodding to the Stevens in acknowledgment of their presence and this is sometimes accompanied by an "alright Steve."  We've also named the lizards that live outside the flat.  These, I've decided, are normal lizards and not the stalking variety that bow down to a giant lizard/cat leader.  Normal lizards.  Whom we have named Eddie Lizard, Elizardbeth Taylor and Elizardberth Hurley.  We have colourful parrots that live in the tree and we named them Johns because apparently there's a snooker player called John Parrot.  Another fact that I was unaware of.  We've also learned that these so called parrots are not parrots at all but rainbow lorikeets.  They're still Johns though.  Honestly, who do you know with the surname rainbow lorikeet? 

Weird Stuff: It's Out There

Once upon a time I saw an empty motorised wheelchair flying along the pavement with no one controlling it.  But that's not the weird thing.  It was being chased down the street by a young man wearing a pink dressing gown.  And he was being chased down the street by another young man holding a video camera.  And he was being chased down the street by a dog.  Truly a random incident that really makes no sense.  One of those moments that make you raise an eyebrow, open your mouth slightly and silently word "wtf."  Or, "how very bizarre."  Other weird things I've seen include a toilet perched upon some rocks in the middle of nowhere, dogs wearing ridiculous purple cardigans and matching booties (though I'm sure some people think that's perfectly normal) and a suspicious congregation of lizards that appeared to be stalking me on my way to work.  Oh the adventures I have on my way to work.  Anyone would think I travelled there via an alternate universe or something, where the weather is out to get you with evil intentions to swipe your leopard print umbrella.  I did see a man wearing a shoe on one foot and a slipper on the other but that's fairly normal I'd say.  I also saw a monster lizard that I initially mistook for a cat.  Yes it was that big.  I've since decided it's probably the leader of the normal sized lizards that were stalking me.  He was a monster of a thing, lurking in the grass, still as a statue.  I thought I'd take a picture of it on my phone but didn't get close enough and the image came out all blurry.  I didn't hang around too long.  It's lack of movement was freaking me out.  So, weird stuff.  My conclusion is that there's a lot of it out there!   

The Pavement Polka

Walking to work the other day I was confronted by not one but two swarms of school children and I got to pondering (as often I do) about pavement etiquette.  I am a lone Stalky walking on the footpath with my little rucksack strapped to my back.  The rucksack isn't integral to the story but I feel it helps set the scene.  So, Little Stalky, walking along the path, rucksack firmly strapped in place, i-pod on, hands in pocket and then up ahead I see them.  The kids.  A swarm.  Nay, a throng.  A horde.  Children everywhere.  They're being led by what I could only assume is a teacher who has a look of single minded determination.  I will get these kids to wherever it is we're going and they will behave.  But this army of schoolkids has literally flooded the pathway and there's no space for anyone else.  This is not a single file situation.  So I monitor the situation as I approach and wonder if the teacher will attempt to move the masses to clear the path, though I've already decided that the simple solution will be for me to walk up onto the grass.  As we get closer, like a steam train hurtling towards a small bunny I notice that kids are all over the place, overflowing onto the grass and running around like lunatics and I wonder whether I risk getting swept away in a sea of small people.  I head for the grass, making my intentions known well ahead of time.  I've chosen my route and I don't want to be knocked over so please keep your distance.  We pass amicably and I come out the other side to a clear path.  Relief.  I can't help but imagine what would happen if the throng was met by a pram or perhaps a wheelchair.  Or a land dwelling, path using shark.  Then who would prevail?  Are there unspoken rules about who gets right of way?  So often we'll all drift happily amongst one another, dodging and shifting but avoiding collision.  But sometimes you get that weird moment where the pavement is practically clear, there's only two of you and yet somehow, even with masses of space, you manage to get in each other's way.  And then comes the dance.  This way, that way, this way, that way and still you can't manage to get past each other.  Then you both stop.  Possibly titter at the hilarity of the situation.  Then this way, that way, this way, that way until somehow you manage to shuffle past each other whilst feeling embarrassed at having done the dance with a complete stranger.  Or in my case, scared the stranger off by yelping in frustration.  Other times you can engage in a dance with a person who is unaware they have become part of a pavement polka.  The person heading in the same direction as you, just in front of you, with their back to you, not quite walking fast enough for you but managing to shift into your path just as you try to pass.  The person you want to poke with your leopard print umbrella and ask them to shift their butt.  This person might be entirely innocent, unaware that they're blocking the path of those behind them.  But beware.  This person might also be a gipper! 

Little Stalky Shakes her Fist at the Morning Shows

On weekdays when I find myself at home on my own I'll often have the TV on whilst I'm ironing or pottering and am confronted with all manner of morning shows.  Now I don't mind these shows and sometimes enjoy the stories that they cover but I'm sick and I mean really sick of the constant advertising that goes on.  I've honestly never seen anything like it and all I can think is how these shows have just sold themselves out.  The worst thing is the presenters introduce the ad like it's some sort of segment on the show, like they've brought someone in specifically to talk about an exciting new product.  Well that's just a lie because it's the same "segment" more than once a day, every day and on more than one channel.  I don't think that the woman advertising scary face freezing gel has really been wearing the same outfit for a whole month and was able to jet between studios to appear "live" at the same time as her doppelganger on the next channel.  It literally drives me loopy and once again I find myself shaking my fist at the television.  Really I should put a DVD on or something but I only want a bit of background entertainment and not something I need to focus on.  The trouble is, these adverts pop up every ten minutes or so and are usually preceded or followed by actual adverts meaning I've been advertised to for about 80% of the time I spent watching the television.  Bah!  What do people do who watch these programs on a regular basis?  Surely they must get bored to death of watching the same advert over and over.  Personally I change channel and I find myself ironing, picking up the remote to change channel, ironing, picking up the remote to change channel.  I end up surfing between three morning programs just trying to avoid the damned adverts.  If someone would just put on a show that didn't insist on showing me the latest delights of the Ab Circle Pro or whatever other crap they're trying to sell it would make me very happy.  No wonder I always end up on the kids channels.

Don't Mess with Duke

The other day we all happened to be at the unit and were chatting upstairs when a random car decided to pull into the yard.  We don't get many visitors so this random car caught our attention and had us all looking out the window to see who it was.  A young couple got out of the random car and stared up at us with grins plastered to their faces.  Who is this random smiling couple in their random car and why have they parked up in our yard?  Oh look, there they go, heading out of the yard and towards the shops.  Excuse me?  You can't just park up in a private business and then wander off.  I don't know what they were thinking anyway, it's a fairly industrial area and I would have been worried a random forklift might have come along and backed into my random car.  Ok so there aren't any random forklifts but there are lorries (or should I say trucks) that come by and large piles of stone that get left.  It's a bit cheeky to just park up and assume you're not going to get in the way of a businesses day to day activity.  Whilst we grumbled about the random couple and their random car Duke was already on top of the situation and heading downstairs to close the gate.  Ha!  Revenge gate closing.  Duke advised the couple that she would be closing the gate and apparently the response was - but we're going to the shops.  But you're going to the shops?  Then park in the shops car park, not ours, you cheeky little randomers.  Duke's reply was simple.  I'm still shutting the gates.  Otherwise the dog will get out.  And that's true.  We do shut the gates so that Sam doesn't go wandering onto the road.  Sam had since turned up at this point to pee in a bush, thus enforcing the point that we had to shut the gates.  The random couple grudgingly returned to their random car and swiftly moved on.  Of this random incident Mystical Roo remarked that he probably wouldn't have minded if they'd popped their heads round the door and asked if they could park up for half an hour or so but to just assume and smugly wander off is rude and we don't like rudeness.  And we definitely don't like random rudeness!  So, don't mess with duke, because she'll close the gate on your ass.  So there! 

Drive Through Bottle Shops

In Australia we've learnt that you don't buy your alcohol in the supermarket but at specific "bottle shops."  It took a while to get used to the fact that there was no wine aisle in Woolworths but now it feels normal to head over to the bottle shop instead.  One novelty that I still get excited about is the drive through bottle shop.  A drive through bottle shop!  It's the most fun thing ever.  For those of you who don't know what a drive through bottle shop is, it's just like any other drive through, except you order alcohol instead of food.  You just pull up and don't even have to get out of the car if you don't want to.  The staff load up your car with what you want, you pay and then away you go.  Simple.  Our drive through bottle shop is actually closer to home than the standard bottle shop and so on occasions we've done the rebellious thing of walking through the drive through.  I pretended I was in a car though and even made little motoring noises but I don't think Mystical Roo was too impressed.  We must have been driving a European car I think because I was stood to the left of Mystical Roo and I was definitely driving.  He was just the somewhat embarrassed passenger.  So, drive through bottle shops are multifunctional.  You can drive through them and walk through them and turn up in your invisible car.  No one bats an eye. 

A Postie and a Pooch

Duke and Bob-a-Roony own Sam the black Labrador and he gets to go to work with Bob-a-Roony, Mystical Roo and the rest of the gang.  Sam is the sweetest dog in the world and seems to love hanging out at the unit whilst everyone is at work.  He's recently slammed society's expectations by befriending the postie.  A dog and a postie?  Can it be true?  Why yes, yes it can.  The postie comes by on his scooter and toots his horn.  Sam is straight out into the yard and waiting patiently at the gates.  When the postie arrives his eyes literally light up and the tail goes into overdrive.  We've seen their exchange from a far and watched as the postie pulls up next to Sam, Sam gives the postie his paw and they shake, the postie gives Sam the mail, gives Sam a pat on the head and then the postie heads off as Sam returns to his master with the day's post.  Amazing.  He doesn't eat it or anything.  Sam and the postie have developed quite a relationship and I imagine look forward to their daily "chat" but the other day...it was not to be.  Not everyone is fond of dogs and so sometimes, when there's a meeting, Sam will be asked to chill out in the upstairs office.  On this day, I was also chilling in the upstairs office.  Apparently not everyone is fond Little Stalkys either!  So, me and Sam were chilling upstairs, Sam was stretched out by my feet whilst I worked on the computer and then we heard it.  The toot.  And I'm not talking about Sam fart.  No, it was the beep of our friendly postie, looking for his pooch pal, armed with the day's mail.  I watched in heart wrenching silence as Sam rushed to the window and put his paws on the window sill.  The postie drove into the yard and looked around, unsure of where Sam had gone and then... their eyes locked and they both knew.  Today, there would be no paw shake.  No pat on the head.  Because Sam was upstairs and had no way down.  The postie drove off and a sadness hung in the air as Sam dropped back down to the floor before heading for his bed.  I swear, it was the most emotional day ever!  I only hope that these two are reunited sooner rather than later lest the heartache continue.  A postie and a pooch:  may their friendship stand the test of time. 

It's Another Woolworths Adventure!

After various trips to a certain supermarket *cough* Woolworths *cough*, I've decided that some of the staff are really random.  Some are really nice.  But some are really random.  I've never shopped anywhere where I've felt so undervalued as a customer.  Some of the staff don't even say hello to you, don't even look at you and just continue their conversation about who's sleeping with who as they shove your shopping into a bag and cackle like harpies.  My God.  I've worked in Woolworths (though the English version, which now no longer exists - but I promise that wasn't my fault) and even at sixteen I had a better concept of customer service.  Today when I went shopping by my Little Stalky self, I was standing in "the basket" queue and when one of the checkout assistants became available she started waving and shouting at me.  Not, hello can I help you, or, would you like to come over to this counter.  No, it was more like, oi you, are you stupid - can't you see that I'm free.  When I sheepishly approached the counter she gave me a withering stare and I couldn't help but feel like I was in trouble.  She continued her previous conversation with a colleague and said two things to me.  Rewards card?  Cash out?  That was it.  Not even in a sentence.  And she was so gruff I thought that I should have been answering yes ma'am no ma'am.  I had to stop myself giving her a salute before I left the store.  The night previous to this Mystical Roo and I had been doing our weekly shop and when we got to the checkout we got the chatty girl.  She's nice enough and has served us a few times but she doesn't half go on and has a bad habit of shouting to her friends over your head making both of us jump in surprise.  Last night she was complaining that she'd had a long day and should have been finished five minutes ago.  This she tells to Mystical Roo who hasn't taken a holiday in 18 months.  She's preaching to the choir.  At the other end of the scale, the best Woolworths worker and possibly the hardest working man in our town is the dude who collects the trolleys.  We seem him all the time and I wonder if he ever gets a break but then he does seem very content in his work.  He's always smiling, humming and seems to take great pride in his trolleys!  When me and Mystical Roo were loading up our shopping the trolley dude was stood patiently waiting for our trolley and took it from us when we'd finished.  Now that's service!  Then he saw a stray trolley rolling away and he literally sprinted after it and brought it back into the folds.  He's like a shepherd caring for his herd.  The trolley dude is cool. And he could certainly teach a few people a lesson!

Revenge of the Demonic Soda Water

My plan for sneaking up on the demonic soda water has failed.  And in retaliation for my attempts, the soda water has in turn, snuck up on me!  Poor unsuspecting Little Stalky.  I was innocently ambling around the kitchen, making dinner, washing up and generally pottering when I decided I would make a drink for myself and Mystical Roo.  Without really thinking about I grabbed a bottle of soda water that had  been sat in the cupboard.  So, pour some lime cordial into the glass, chuck in a few ice cubes, grab the soda water, turn to Mystical Roo to make a comment, unscrew the lid and SPLAT!  Soda water everywhere.  And I mean everywhere.  The bottle practically flew out of my hands it was so out of control.  It was like a fountain of streaming water, an explosion of fizz, a torrent of liquid.  An uncontrollable beast that was taking it's revenge because for reasons unknown I had let my guard down.  Damn me and my trusting nature.  I was soaked.  There was water all over the counter top, water all over the floor, water all over me.  I was not impressed.  And all of this because I hadn't been paying attention.  After all my efforts to conquer the crazed soda water!  But it saw a weakness and took it's chance to launch it's most soaking attack to date.  But I'm back on guard now and won't be caught out twice.  We'll meet again and next time I'll have the last laugh.  Watch this space!

Little Stalky's Sweet Tooth

I really miss English sweets.  And sometimes chocolate.  It might seem random but the sweets and chocolate out here are totally different.  Not bad.  Just different.  And as much as I like the sweets here (or should I say lollies) we're in serious need of Rowntrees and Maynards.  Ah fruit gums, how I miss you.  There isn't even an equivalent - no fruit gums, no wine gums, no fruit pastels.  There are no challenging sweets - the super sour type that make your mouth go a funny shape, or the mega chewy ones that require a mini pick axe just to remove from your teeth.  I'm sure I heard (from an episode of The Simpsons I think) that English sweets are quite hardcore compared to those in Australia and America.  Maybe that's what I miss.  Maybe the Australian sweets aren't extreme enough for me!  You can find English sweets out here, in fact the other day I caused a minor disturbance in a gift shop because I'd discovered a tube of fruit gums, but they're crazy expensive.  This tiny tube of fruit gums cost nearly $4.  And did I buy them?  Why yes I did.  But grudgingly.  And then I did a little dance because I was so happy.  I made those little fellas last for several weeks before I finally scoffed the lot.  And they were so good.  Maybe if I buy enough of them the price will come down due to popular demand.  Maybe they'd just run out of stock and I'd have to wait weeks for some more.  Maybe I need to set up a super stalky sweet fund!

OTBC

It's the start of football season in England and this results in a happy/sad Mystical Roo.  He's happy because the football has started but sad because the coverage here in Oz isn't great.  Poor Mystical Roo.  I do feel for him because he's a big fan.  With the start of the season I've somehow been drawn into a game of fantasy football.  My team, the Little Stalky Super Squad, aren't doing that great at the moment, but then, what do I know about football.  Not a lot.  I tend to choose players based on names I recognise and whether or not I feel sorry for them.  I had to have Robert Green as my keeper because there's something adorable about him, even if he's been losing me points (shaking my fist).  So I've picked my team and now I'm just going to leave it and see what happens.  Mystical Roo will monitor the action and tell me how well I'm doing.  Our team, Norwich, I think are doing ok at the moment.  They seem to do best when they're not being televised though, so I've come to the conclusion that they're camera shy.  Mystical Roo is not impressed that their best performances are the ones he doesn't get to see.  I'm a Norwich supporter by association I suppose.  Mystical Roo is a fan and so therefore by being his Little Stalky I become a fan too.  I even have my own shirt.  Though I insisted on getting a man's one because I like them to be baggy.  So I've gone from knowing nothing about football to knowing a little bit about football, from not caring about anyone to actually being happy when Norwich win.  I've been to a couple of matches and did enjoy the atmosphere.  Especially when we won.  I had hoped to see Delia though and remember watching the Canary mascot with a certain amount of envy.  How I wanted to wear that canary costume.  I imagine Mystical Roo would be proud...or maybe slightly disturbed.  Anyway, here's to a good season that results in many wins for Norwich, thus ensuring a happy Mystical Roo.  OTBC! 

Little Stalky Wonders About the Wind

Well it's been mighty windy here today.  So windy in fact that I started to wonder whether we had a hurricane coming in.  My better informed Australian buddies were quick to advise me that this is quite normal for August.  Quite normal!  Christ!  If I'd been caught at the wrong angle today then I would have been whipped off into a tree.  Yes indeed the walk to work was a struggle.  There was no rain or anything today and that makes for a much happier Stalky but I think I had to use twice as much energy just battling against the wind.  At one point I kept drifting to the left of the pavement and couldn't work out whether the wind was really that strong, whether the head cold had caused me to become majorly off balance or whether somehow, I had become drunk.  I imagine it was a mixture of the first two.  I'm fairly sure I wasn't drunk.  I definitely should have whipped out the earmuffs for today's journey as my little ears were rather red by the time I got down to the holiday park.  You wouldn't think you'd need earmuffs in Australia but then you wouldn't think that wind like this was the norm either.  At one point the wind was so fierce that it was opening the automatic doors, whipping through reception and stealing paperwork as it went.  Damn paperwork stealing wind.  How dare it!  The trees were rocking, people were being blown about.  I half expected a caravan to come floating by.  Somehow the ducks seemed to be getting on ok, though I don't know how.  They must be experienced.  Hardcore ducks!  So my colleagues reassure me this is normal weather but honestly, the amount of Ozzie tourists who came in to ask me about the wind.  Is this normal?  Apparently.  Isn't this normal to you?  No.  Eeek!  I was half tempted at one point to go outside with a couple of bin bags and see whether I could take off.  Maybe I was drunk afterall...

Demonic Soda Water

After sampling the delights of a lime and soda water drink I told Mystical Roo that I wanted to stock up so that I could have this tipple at home.  Got to love a bit of fizz and this makes me feel more grown up than having squash.  A simple drink to make - just a splash of lime cordial, ice cubes, topped up with soda water.  Simple.  Or so you would think.  But NOT when you've got demonic soda water of doom.  No.  Then it's not so simple.  We've been under attack from the demonic soda water of doom for a while now and no one seems to be able to tame the beast.  When the first explosion of fizz soaked poor Monster Noggin we thought it had just been because the bottle had been rolling around in the car.  But what about the second time?  Highly suspicious.  And then, Mystical Roo got a soaking and we all know that things like that never happen to Mystical Roo.  Then I got a soaking.  And yes, things like this happen to me all the time and perhaps should be discounted but this was like the fourth bottle in a row that had decided to explode in the kitchen.  We weren't even buying the same brands!  When I next bought a bottle of soda water I felt prepared for the battle I knew was ahead.  I'd seen the beast at work and knew it couldn't be trusted.  So my intention was to gently unscrew the lid, softly, softly, slowly, slowly, let the gas out (of the bottle - not me) bit by bit.  But this proved to be easier said than done.  Just the tiniest of twists would send the soda water into a frenzy.  It was bubbling away like soda water possessed!  There was no stopping the torrent that would ensue.  So I accepted my soaking and just went for it.  Sure enough soda water came shooting out from all angles.  I'm pretty sure some even hit the ceiling.  Perhaps I was wrong to take the softly, softly approach.  Maybe I angered the soda water and whipped it up into a rage.  So that battle was lost but the war continues and I refuse to back down.  I will have my soda water.  Maybe I'll try a sneak attack.  Wandering innocently into the kitchen, perhaps even whistling a jaunty tune, open the fridge with a yawn, reach for the milk, yes the milk, reach for the milk and then HA HA! snatch that soda water out of there so quick that it doesn't have time to react.  Unscrew the lid and pour!  Mwah ha ha haaaaa.  A cunning plan that could no doubt prove effective if only I could unscrew bottle caps without having to call for the assistance of Mystical Roo.  In which case we might have to team up, take on the demonic soda water together and fight the injustice.  Or maybe we'll just have to start wearing waterproofs in the kitchen. 

Little Stalky Ponders a Zombie Attack

I was walking to work and randomly got to thinking about the potential for a zombie attack.  This thought was actually brought on by the random man who appeared to be ambling towards me from his driveway.  Being the super ninja Stalky that I am, I'm always on high alert when walking on my own - even if it is 9am in a pleasant residential area.  But you just never know when you might run into that damned land dwelling shark.  Any hoo, it turned out this man was actually ambling towards his newspaper and not towards me and most likely had no intention on feasting on human brains.  Most likely.  But still, it got me thinking.  So, zombie attack.  This is what I ponder all the way to work.  Would I be able to spot a zombie?  I'd like to think so.  If the film depictions are correct then there should be a certain element of slow walking, arms outstretched, dribble and a slightly glazed look.  Ok so I figure I know what a zombie looks like, though you have to admit there are those of us out there who might fit that description of an early morning before a cup of tea.  Anyway, zombie spotted, how would Little Stalky deal with the situation?  Maybe I'd go into crazy attack mode.  Maybe not.  I'm not really sure how one is supposed to deal with zombies though I think it's something to do with taking out the head.  Hmmm.  Perhaps then I would go for the run and hide scenario.  That's probably a better and safer plan.  Wait for the zombie to move on and then go in search of other non-zombies to hang out with.  My God, what if I ran into a land dwelling shark zombie?  Do animals get turned into zombies?  That's a whole new problem to deal with.  What if I came across a zombie, riding a zombie horse, holding a zombie dog and wielding none other than a land dwelling zombie shark?  The mind simply boggles.  Thank God I got to work in decent time otherwise I could have started imagining all kind of crazy zombie scenarios.  Would have given myself nightmares!

Little Stalky Gets Sick

As mentioned before, this household is sometimes prone to serious bouts of man flu.  And if you remember it's not Mystical Roo who is the sufferer but Little Stalky.  So...I'm ill and it sucks!  What is it about getting sick that means illness will always clash with something you were looking forward to.  Like going on holiday or something.  I managed to get ill on Mystical Roo's birthday, which super sucks because not only was I looking forward to enjoying a day with Mystical Roo but I absolutely must NOT complain because it's Mystical Roo's birthday and I'm meant to be looking after him.  I didn't do too badly and tried to keep my snotty tissues to myself.  Now the last time I got the flu I went to the chemist in search of some lemsip.  They actually gave me some amazing chemist own tablets that knocked that cold right out of my system.  I was confused at the time as to why they were asking for my address details when I bought them - apparently there had been some drug pedalling going on, but really, cold and flu meds?  Most random.  Well maybe now I understand why.  Those tablets were hardcore!  I mean, they really did the trick and I felt heaps better but I was away with the fairies.  I was lying on the sofa feeling decisively out of it.  So I have these amazing tablets but knew I couldn't take them because they'd knock me out and I didn't want to spoil the day.  Now today I know I have to collect Monster Noggin and Ammy from work and there's no way I would drive with those things in my system so I'm still holding off.  It's probably a good thing to be honest.  I'm not that sick, I'm just feeling sorry for myself and I shouldn't take them unless I get really bad.  I'll see how I feel when I get up for work tomorrow.  It could be a fun day in the office! 

Stalky and the Ridiculously Oversized Sweet Potato...of Doom

I don't know what's happened to the sweet potatoes over here at the moment but they're huge!  Gigantic.  Massive.  They're so humongous that they have an aisle in Woolworths all to themselves.  And this wasn't a gradual thing or anything.  One day they were normal sweet potato size and then the next, giant sweet potato freaks of nature.  They're monstrous.  If I was shopping on my own then I'd have to get a trolley just to push one of these bad boys around.  So tonight I'm doing sweet potato wedges with the salmon and it literally takes me fifteen minutes to get through one of the sweet potatoes.  Just peeling it was a mission.  It's so heavy that my wrist starts to hurt from holding it and it's so wide that I can barely get my hand around it.  The pile of peelings left behind was a little orange mountain.  Then I try to chop the monster potato.  I'm not good at chopping in the first place, so this is just impossible.  I think I got the knife half way through the potato before it got stuck!  And then it wouldn't go up or down.  What am I supposed to do with that?  I bash it a little bit but I think the monster potato might actually break the chopping board.  I finally got the knife through with much wiggling, a lot of cursing and by standing on my tip toes to get as much weight behind it as possible.  Potato madness I tell you!  What are they feeding these things?  If they grow any bigger we won't be able to get them through the door!  At least Mystical Roo is guaranteed plenty of sweet potato wedges tonight.  That beast loaded up two trays full!

Stumbling Stalky

Slipping over is one of those things that suck when it happens to you but makes you giggle when it happens to someone else.  I guess that's why we trip over in the first place - it's karma for laughing at someone else's tumble!  I fall over all the time; I just seem to trip over my own feet.  I've fallen over in the street, at school, at work, I've fallen down the stairs, I've fallen up the stairs.  I've fallen over on the spot.  Everyone falls over - it's how you handle it that counts.  It's normally better if you're with someone because then you can both have a laugh about it.  If you're on your own then you can have a laugh about it but then look like a crazy who is laughing to herself.  No, if you're on your own the best thing you can do is get up as quick as you can and carry on like nothing has happened.  I took a huge dive in a club once when me and Mystical Roo had just got together.  That was massively embarrassing, even though Mystical Roo claims to have seen nothing.  I remember walking onto the dance floor, feeling my foot slip in someone's spilt drink (this is why there's no drinks on the dance floor people!), flying up in the air and landing on my bum with a big bump.  Luckily for me I had two quick thinking friends who literally grabbed my arms and pulled me up again.  I had to confess my fall to Mystical Roo after not being able to sit down properly because of the big bruise on my butt.  Not cool.  I don't think I've ever seen Mystical Roo fall over, or even stumble.  I wonder how he remains immune.  Hmmm.  Maybe it's the geek in me that means I'm always falling all over the place.  At least I'm practiced in embarrassment and normally manage to get out of things with some pride intact.  Except when I fell down the stairs and started crying.  But no one was there to see so that's ok.  And it really did hurt!  Now that's another thing I've seen people do.  They trip, they fall, they sit, they fake an injury!  Now that's just drawing more attention to a bad situation.  Don't fake an injury.  It won't make people forget the fact that you just fell flat on your face.  It will make them remember it more!  The funniest thing I saw was a woman who tried to cross a track when a run was taking place (refer to previous post - this is never a good idea)  She didn't actually take out any of the runners but she did manage to trip on the edging and sprawl across the track.  Then she promptly started shouting at her husband because it had obviously been his fault that she'd fallen.  That's right, fall over and then blame someone else for your clumsiness.  Shame on you!  Everyone does it (apart from Mystical Roo apparently) and unless you really do hurt yourself you just have to move on.  Particularly if you've landed in a pile of poop.  Then you need to move on super fast and find yourself a change of clothes!

Sun, Sea and Sand

Here in Oz we're heading back towards summer and whilst that means sun, sea, sand and BBQs it also means braving the beach in your...bikini.  Is there a woman out there who doesn't dread this?  Yes.  That lady who walks out of the ocean looking like no less than a Goddess.  Hair tousled but not too tousled.  Bikini perfectly in place.  Bronzed skin with no dodgy tan lines.  Dolphins swimming by her side, squirting strategically aimed fountains of water so as to enhance her glory.  Who is this woman and where does she live?  I want to ask her a few questions.  Maybe she's a mermaid.  That would certainly explain the dolphin activity.  But seriously, is it possible to look even remotely passable on the beach?  I've yet to achieve this.  The beginning of summer is the worst as I'm so pale the light is literally reflecting from my pasty skin.  Add the fact that I'm a bit over enthusiastic with the suncream and you've got full on snowman girl!  Er, Stalky, you've got a little something...everywhere...all over your face.  And even though I slather myself in the stuff you can guarantee that I've missed a random strip and will end up with a weird red triangle of sunburn, which will then proceed to go brown and then I'll be left with a random triangle for the rest of the summer.  No one likes a random triangle.  When are triangles ever good?  The Bermuda Triangle?  Hello!  Any hoo, I've stopped trying to do anything to tame my hair now.  The hair knows when there's humidity in the air and nothing will stop the inevitable frizz.  Nothing!  Add a dunking in the sea and you know the battle is lost.  Salt water, sand, maybe even a crab or a bit of seaweed - with this combination nothing is going to get the hair under control.  Just go with it and ignore the sideways glances.  I've also decided that it's impossible to be even remotely glamorous whilst in the sea.  Firstly there's the horrible walk from the safety of your towel to the beckoning ocean.  Walking across the beach, trying to avoid any random pits that have been dug by small children, holding things in place and willing your bikini bottoms to stop riding up your butt!  The sand is hot of course so you have a kind of weird chicken walk going on as you burn the soles of your feet.  But then when you get down to the water you remember it's actually quite cold at first and so have this kind of shivering dance going on where your shoulders go really high and you try and pull your body up and out of the water.  This is always accompanied by some sort of high pitched squealing.  Note, it's often the pommys who have trouble getting in the water whilst the ozzies just dive straight in.  You'd think we'd be used to the cold.  Usually a big wave will actually force you in and you realise it's better to get a bit deeper so that you can hide in the water.  It's not so bad once you're actually in.  So you're happily bobbing about, scanning for seaweed, fish, sharks, bobbing about, scanning for sharks, bobbing, scanning for sharks, bobbing and then WHAM!  Where the hell did that big-ass wave come from.  And where have my bikini bottoms gone.  Noooooo!  You've then got a few seconds to rearrange your bikini so that you don't scare small children, push the hair out of your face and ascertain whether that really is salt water coming out of your nose or genuine snot.  Ok, so continue bobbing, scanning, bobbing and then decide you're scared of the waves so want to get out.  Alright, so Goddess right, I can wade out of the water with beachy hair, bikini in place and I won't trip over.  Crap.  But the wave will knock me on my face.  So here's a realistic image of someone coming out of the surf.  Hair all over the place, pasted to my face in a way that makes me wonder if I've somehow grown a beard.  Bikini skewed but thankfully covering everything it should be covering.  A bit of seaweed stuck to my leg.  And hmm, my bikini bottoms feel somewhat heavy.  Oh yes, there's a big pile of sand hanging in there.  Where does this sand come from!  Where!  It makes you look like you've done a big poo.  No one wants to look like they've done a big poo.  Ok, so back in the water, jiggle the bikini bottoms, get the sand out.  Sand out!  Then hurry back to the towel, dodge a child, sit down and let the sand stick to your wet pasty body.  I can sit here and dry in the lovely sun, my hair is already beginning to refriz and sea water continues to drip from my nose.  I look glorious.  And then you've got Mystical Roo who just dives in the ocean, strolls back out looking like James Bond and returns to the towel looking effortlessly cool.  What the hell?! 

Revenge of the Leopard Print Umbrella

Oh my God, I missed out on a serious snaffling opportunity!  Lurking in the flat awaiting the return of Mystical Roo I hadn't even considered a mission to the post box; unbeknown to me there was some serious snaffling treasure out there!  When Mystical Roo did arrive home he was holding many exciting looking letters and...a box.  A box!  I'm not sure where the box actually came from because that certainly wouldn't have fit in the letter box.  I assumed all the exciting post would be for Mystical Roo what with it being his birthday soon and all (my he's getting on a bit now), but nay, there was exciting post for Little Stalky too!  Woo hoo!  I love exciting post.  There wasn't a bill or a bit of junk mail in sight.  Possibly the best post day ever.  The best post day ever and I failed in my snaffling duties.  Honestly!  When I discovered the box was for me there was definite confusion followed by elation.  A box?  For me?  Why would there be a box for me?  Because the weather Gods wanted to set things right and replace the cool leopard print umbrella that was so cruelly snatched away from me!  Oh yes.  Inside the box was a brand spanking new leopard print umbrella.  And it rocks.  My walking to work action pack will be complete once more.  The umbrella will find a new home tucked in the side of my rucksack, ready to be summoned in the event of precipitation.  But I won't make the same mistake twice.  Oh no.  If there is high wind then I'll be using the hood only.  I can't risk a) losing another cool umbrella and b) being whipped away into the trees Mary Poppins style.  But where did this mysterious umbrella come from?  Did Little Stalky blog fans read of my plight and want to make things right (love a random rhyme). And if so, how did these fans get my address?  A mysterious umbrella indeed.  But it's ok because I do know who sent me the umbrella - my number one fans - and I thank them because it was a totally cool surprise!

Spooky-Ass Car Park of (Possible) Doom

On Sunday Monster Noggin and I decided to accompany Mystical Roo on a trip to Bondi where he would be running the City to Surf.  Being a good hour and halfs drive and with the race actually starting at 08.30, this led to my being awake at an ungodly hour of the day.  Yuck.  I'm not really a morning person...or a late night person for that matter.  I like my sleep.  What can I say, I'm a bit koala like.  So I stumbled out of bed, threw on some clothes, stole Mystical Roo's jumper and ambled to the car.  No breakfast, no make-up, no nothing.  I did brush my teeth though.  When we got to Bondi we let Mystical Roo out and agreed to meet at the "meeting point".  Yes, the meeting place, the place where people meet, how hard can that be.  You remember Stalky, the place we met last time.  Yes, last time.  Meeting place.  Anyway, Monster Noggin and I then went in search of somewhere to park, which isn't easy when 80,000 people have descended on Bondi to do some running.  Crazy folk.  We went round numerous streets and roads, being lazy and trying to park as close as possible before we came across a big P sign, indicating parking was nearby.  Worth a try I suppose but we were doubtful seeing as how everywhere else was packed.  The sign led us down a narrow road into a dubious looking area but sure enough there was another sign indicating underground parking.  We drove down the ramp into a completely empty car park.  Highly suspicious.  Why is it empty?  What's the catch?  We read the parking sign multiple times just to make sure that we weren't missing anything.  Free parking?  Check.  Time restrictions? 2 hours, hmm we'll risk it - I've yet to see a parking inspector the whole time I've lived here, car park open?  8am to 10pm.  Public parking?  Why yes indeedy.  Surely this is too good to be true.  I imagine that the door to the underground car park will suddenly rumble shut, trapping us with some crazed troll bent on stealing handbags and possibly shoes.  But the door does not rumble shut.  We check the sign one more time before happily heading off in the direction of the beach feeling might pleased with ourselves.  Yes it's a spooky-ass car park, but it may not be one of doom.  We figure we'll find out when we get back.  If the car is gone then we know it was a car park of doom.  Anyway, Monster Noggin and I grab a spot of breakfast and then take a place in the crowd to try and spot Mystical Roo.  He's wearing a pink bandanna so hopefully we'll spot him but there are a lot of people running and it's surprising how many Mystical Roo doppelgangers there are out there.  Monster Noggin has seriously dodgy eye-sight so I guess she has an excuse but I live with Mystical Roo so I should really be able to recognise him.  The first few runners come through, looking sweaty and exhausted and then a few minutes later the hordes arrive.  I'm scanning the crowds with narrowed eyes and Monster Noggin has the camera poised for an action shot.  When we do spot Mystical Roo we both whoop and cheer, wave and Monster Noggin gets a few shots.  Then we head off in the direction of "the meeting place".  At first we're unsure of how to get to the other side of the road seeing as how it's being blocked by runners.  One things for sure we're not going to try and cross the flow of people.  Imagine if you got in someone's way and like wrecked their time.  The guilt!  I know that if I tried to cross I'd stumble or get distracted by something and then cause a 17 person pile up.  It would make the news and I'd be known as that stupid pommy girl who wrecked the run.  I shudder at the thought.  So we make our way around the runners and not through the runners in search of the Mystical Roo.  So the meeting place eh?  Meeting place?  Oh yeah the meeting place.  Monster Noggin assumes I know where this is. I assume Monster Noggin knows where this is and then I remember that Monster Noggin wasn't with us last year.  Oh crap.  Little Stalkys are not known for their navigation skills or their paying attention skills or their organisational skills.  It'll be fine.  We'll just walk in this direction and we'll bump into each other.  How hard can that be amongst 80,000 people.......Half an hour later there is still no sign of Mystical Roo.  He has nothing with him apart from the running clothes he's wearing and my i-pod.  I have his jacket.  He must be freezing.  Oh poor Mystical Roo, I've let you down again.  Me and Monster Noggin wandered the crowds for maybe and hour and still found no sign of Mystical Roo.  When we finally did discover the "meeting place" it was so jammed with people that we actually couldn't move.  Maybe we should have tried a bit of crowd surfing at this point but I'm not sure how well that would have gone down.  Especially as most of the crowd was made up of runners who'd already knackered themselves out.  We decided to get to higher ground, that way we could survey the crowds whilst making ourselves obvious.  I wished I'd bought a fluorescent jacket with me or something.  So we made our way to the skate board park, Monster Noggin becoming only slightly distracted by the lifeguard tower we passed.  We stood randomly atop the skate park for maybe ten minutes before deciding to return to our original spot.  Trying to think what Mystical Roo would do we figured he might return to the place he'd seen us last.  Turns out he'd seen us standing atop the skate park and had cut through the crowds to find us.  When a hand went to grab the jacket I was holding my first instinct was to run away but then I realised it was a Mystical Roo hand, attached to none other than Mystical Roo.  I was so relieved!  He got a big cuddle.  I then had to admit to both Mystical Roo and Monster Noggin that I had no idea where this so called "meeting point" was.  But I gave you a leaflet.  There was a leaflet?  Hmmm.  Happy to have located Mystical Roo we go back in search of the car.  When we arrive back at the spooky-ass car park of possible doom we discover the car is fine.  Just where we left it.  Phew.  So it was less a spooky-ass car park of doom than an excellent car park of happiness.  The three of us headed home to the sound of triumphant music and the sun setting over the hills.  Actually it was lunchtime and there was loads of traffic.  I got a bag of jelly beans though and Mystical Roo was on TV so it's all good!

Little Stalky the (not so) Wise

Of the new experiences encountered in Australia, one of my least favourite has been having my wisdom teeth removed.  One because it's not a very pleasant experience and two because it costs a shed load of money.  Why did the wisdom teeth decide they needed to come out after we'd moved to Australia.  Why couldn't they have come out in England.  Why did they want to come out at all!  I guess there's only so much wisdom a person can carry around with them, but still.  So after crippling Mystical Roo with the news of how much the procedure would actually cost, we booked it in and got those teeth taken care of.  All four of them.  I actually had a horrible cold just leading up to the day of the operation and wasn't sure it was going to go ahead but apparently it wasn't in my chest so it was fine.  If you ever have a nasty cold and can coincide it with having your wisdom teeth removed, the antibiotics and stuff will shift that thing out of you in no time.  I felt fine after the op - apart from the mouth of course.  I'm not very good with needles, pain, anything that's going to make me feel uncomfortable and unlike the time when I had ingrowing toenails removed (I'm charming aren't I) Mystical Roo was not allowed in with me and I had to be left...alone.  Well, alone with the nurses and surgeon and anaesthetist.  They were all very lovely and friendly and my accent once again became a talking point but nothing could stop the inevitable freak out that would occur once I saw those needles.  Not cool!  They ended up giving me laughing gas, just to get the needles in to put me to sleep.  That stuff rocks.  Everything was wonderful after I'd taken a few deep breaths and I went under giggling to myself and possibly drooling.  When I awoke I was just really thirsty because the cotton balls that had been shoved in my mouth were absorbing all my saliva.  I remember watching the nurses walk by as if in a dream and asking for a drink.  At this point I was eager to get home but I had to lie still for quite some time.  It was fairly boring but at least it was over.  The dude in the bed next to me didn't react well to the anaesthetic and woke up shouting and disorientated.  At this point, when the nurses were nice and busy, I decided I needed to be sick.  I don't like to make a fuss but I had to interrupt.  Excuse me I believe I'm going to be sick.  Yes, you look rather pale.  Yes, I did.  And yes I did.  Felt much better afterwards though.  I was very excited to see Mystical Roo when he came to collect me and didn't really realise how dosed up I was until I went to stand up.  Mystical Roo guided me back through the waiting room and to the car and I couldn't help but giggle.  I'm pretty sure I was waffling like a drunk but don't recall much of what I was saying.  I do know that I was dribbling.  When we got into the car I was fascinated to see that my mouth was fairly bloody and my teeth were covered in red gore and slime.  I looked like a zombie who'd been feasting on human remains.  This amused me and I remember thinking it would be a fun idea to smile at young children when we were stopped at the traffic lights.  I can't remember whether I got told off for this but I probably did.  When Mystical Roo went to the pharmacy to collect my prescription I was told to wait in the car and not harass any more people.  I think I spent the time alone talking to myself.  When Mystical Roo returned we were discussing something that had annoyed us and I'm fairly sure I was going to kick someone's ass.  That comes out really well when you can't open your mouth properly and have slimy teeth.  Lovely.  We returned to the house where Mystical Roo had been instructed to keep an eye on me.  I was fed soup, through a straw before eventually moving up to choc pots.  With the pain killers doing their job nicely the most frustrating thing about my recovery was not being able to eat properly.  Man I was craving some pizza that week.  But now the wisdom teeth have gone.  Where to, I do not know.  Maybe I should have asked for them back.  I haven't had anything to offer the tooth fairy for a while and I want to see what she pays nowadays.  Could have used that money to put towards the op!

Mystical Roo: Modern Day Hero?

I'm not really an accident prone person, no, that would be El Kenco, but I do have a habit of finding myself in somewhat random situations that normally require the attention of Mystical Roo.  Setting my oven mitts on fire for example.  I guess a normal person would chuck them in the sink or something, but I just seem to stare blankly at the danger before screaming for assistance.  How did I set my mitt on fire?  I'm not really sure.  But I guess it was something to do with the gas stove I was cooking on.  On seeing the flames, I didn't even take the mitt off, I just yelled at the top of my voice.  As usual, the heroic Mystical Roo came to the rescue, multi-tasking by removing the mitt, chucking it in the sink, all the while scolding Little Stalky for being such a numpty.  What are you doing?  The sink is right next to you.  Plonker.  In a less dramatic turn of events I happened to be bathing the rabbit in the bath tub upstairs.  Rabbit's don't like to be bathed but I had been advised to do so by the vet as the bunny had poo stuck all over his butt!  Said bunny was not impressed with bath time and as I leant over the tub to massage poo out of his fur (yes I had poo on my fingers) he decided to make a bid for freedom and leapt over my head and landed on my back.  Oh my God.  I freak out.  Convinced the rabbit is going to jump off of my back, land on the wet floor and break a leg I desperately try to reclaim him.  But have you tried to grab a wet rabbit who is perched on your back?  No amount of yoga is going to allow that to happen.  So I'm stuck.  I can't move because the rabbit will fall.  I'm bent over the bath tub, poo on my hands, poo up my front and now, undoubtedly, poo on my back.  Excellent.  And the rabbit is just sat there.  So then I start calling down to Mystical Roo.  He has the TV on so doesn't hear me.  I call again, a bit hysterically now and Mystical Roo no doubt starts to wonder what crazy dilemma I've gotten myself into this time.  I hear him coming up the stairs and remember him saying something along the lines of "what the?!".  Little Stalky bent over bath tub, covered in poo, covered in water and the rabbit perched happily on my back.  Mystical Roo cups the little bunny in his hands and pops him on the floor.  Little bunny is thrilled to have escaped bath time and plods on down the stairs before promptly ignoring me for the next few hours.  I remain covered in poo.  Nice.  A chair fell on my head once, which I guess would explain a few things, and Mystical Roo was there in a flash to console a sobbing Stalky and provide ice for a big bump on the noggin.  He's also released me from the clutches of various items of clothing that I've become entangled in, taken over the chopping of onions when the tears simply become too much, carried my bags for me even when doing so means being seen with a huge zebra print, pink trimmed, suitcase.  Soon, he will defend my honour against the tyrannical manager of our gym.  Truly Mystical Roo is a modern day hero.   

Movie Mayhem

Mystical Roo and I like our films and will try and get to the cinema when possible for the full movie experience.  Recently we (and no doubt other cinema goers) have been suffering at the hands of the dreaded teenagers.  Not all teenagers.  Just the dreaded ones.  The evil ones who seem to go to the cinema for no other reason than to annoy the rest of us.  They tend to lurk in groups, a mixture of boys and girls and can usually be spotted towards the centre of the auditorium.  I honestly don't know why these people buy tickets when all they do is talk through the film whilst getting up and down, walking back and forth through the aisles and generally making a nuisance of themselves.  Tickets aren't exactly cheap so why would you spend your hard earned pocket money (ha!) just to talk through a film when you could have done that outside and away from the rest of us.  The trouble is it seems that there is very little that can be done.  You could politely ask them to be quiet but no doubt not get a response.  Shouting abuse results in louder abuse being thrown back in your direction, sometimes accompanied by popcorn or possibly a shoe.  There are no attendants to whom you can turn and when you do go and speak to a member of staff they turn out to be teenagers too.  Not necessarily dreaded teenagers but teenagers who aren't going to do much about their rowdy peers.  Most of the time we'll grudgingly put up with the noise but we have walked out before and gotten our money back.  There are some films that require a certain element of quiet for you to be able to fully appreciate the atmosphere it's trying to create.  And I'm a bit deaf anyway so I can't be doing with background noise.  We've actually started watching films based on who we think might be in the audience.  Then, if we decide it's one that may attract the dreaded teenagers we try and plan a time when they'll hopefully all be tucked up in bed.  Or terrorising old ladies in the street.  Who knows.  We went to watch Toy Story 3 the other night and were apprehensive about watching a "kids film", for fear or screaming children running amok.  In fact the kids put the teenagers to shame and were all really well behaved.  It just goes to show that you don't have to be a child to be childish.

The Washing Machine Departs

Woe is me, the washing machine has finally snuffed it.  We've been arguing for a while now and it's been trying to escape the laundry room ever since we moved in but now it's had the last laugh.  The washing machine is dead and it didn't go quietly either.  I tried to appease it but it was out of control and I had to flee for fear of my life.  Now there is silence and the war has ended.  But really, are there any winners?  The washing machine chose to self destruct rather than accept another load of pants belonging to Mystical Roo.  It's a sad day for Little Stalkys and washing machines alike.  Why couldn't we have just sorted out our differences.  Now I'm forced to deal with my loss by compiling a spreadsheet to establish the best deal for a new washing machine.  Too soon?  Perhaps.  But if I don't take action then who knows how long we'll go before I can put on another load.  What if Mystical Roo has to turn his pants inside out?  Or worse, go commando.  There'll be chaos.  Utter chaos.  No, the spreadsheet is a necessary evil.  So I say, fare thee well washing machine.  You never liked me.  You were more than likely out to get me and were certainly in league with the remote controls.  But you did your job.  And if it weren't for you then we'd be walking around wearing bags.  There will now be a gap in our lives...specifically located in the laundry room next to the sink and underneath the tumble dryer.  And we won't be able to fill that gap...until we've found a suitable replacement.  Let's hope the next washing machine we own is somewhat less aggressive! 

Mystical Roo Jumps in Cow Pats

As a child I don't think you realise how hard your parents work until you're an adult yourself.  Now I don't even have kids, just a generally well behaved Mystical Roo, and I already feel the pressure of keeping the house tidy, the fridge stocked up, the clothes ironed etc, etc...So I would like to take the time to say thank you mum and dad.  Thank you for giving me and El Kenco the best childhood.  I would also like to apologise for leaving my shoes lying around, for dumping my school bag and various junk on the table, for leaving wet clothes in the wash basket, for leaving wet towels on the bed, for randomly jumping in cow pats.  Because now I get it.  And it's really annoying!  But Mystical Roo is well behaved and doesn't really do any of the above.  Except for jumping in cow pats.  Disgusting. 

Learning the Lingo

Whilst living in Australia for the past 18 months I haven't picked up any sort of accent but I have started to use Australiaisms.  Like "no worries" and "no drama", got to love that one.  This is pretty much where it stops though.  I'd like to make use of "fair dinkum" but I'm still not 100% sure what it means and wouldn't want to offend anyone by using it in the wrong context and am fairly certain it would sound ridiculous coming out of my mouth.  It's like my Australian buddies trying to get me to say "G'day".  Unless this is said in an ozzy accent it just sounds stupid and I will not be attempting this again as it causes those around me to roll around laughing.  Bah!  Most of the time communication is fine and I only occasionally get mocked for my pommy accent - most often when asking if anyone wants a cup of tea.  Apparently I sound very English when I say tea.  But every now and then the Ozzy/Pommy divide rears it's head and there is major confusion.  A nasty paper cut required a plaster (yes, another Stalky boo boo and it really was bleeding!) but asking for a plaster only generates raised eyebrows as my colleagues enquire as to why I require a plaster cast for my finger.  No, they correct me, I need a band aid.  A band aid?  I asked for a plastic wallet and it took much describing on my part for my co-workers to ascertain that I was actually after a plastic sleeve.  We've argued on numerous occasions as to why I won't refer to flip flops as thongs and when someone phoned to say they'd left their pants behind I thought we'd be looking for a pair of knickers!  Sweets are not sweets, they're lollies.  So I ask, if sweets are lollies then what are lollies.  Lollies.  Lollies are lollies and sweets are lollies.  The mind boggles.  So what's an ice lolly?  An icy pole.  Or an ice block.  Thank God ice cream still means the same thing.  Crisps are chips so what are chips?  Hot chips.  Chips and hot chips.  What about hot crisps then?  Ha!  But honestly, I do want to integrate into society and embrace the Australian culture.  It's just taking me a while to get my head around the various idiosyncrasies.  It's an interesting experience learning the lingo and I wouldn't want to be wandering around making a fool of myself.  It was only the other day that we learnt that "Root" has a whole other meaning in this country.  Good to be given the heads up.  So I'm trying to use the correct terminology, especially at work, especially when talking to young children who think I'm mental when they ask me for an icy pole and I stare back at them blankly.  I like to think I'm passing some Englishisms onto my friends.  They now know the meaning of "billy".  To be a billy, when one is on their bill.  I think they rather liked that one.  Who knows, maybe together we'll come up with a weird new hybrid language.

Wild Weather (Part 2)

I think today has been one big blur of previous Little Stalky adventures all melded into one big Little Stalky escapade.  Alas, Woolworths does not feature.  So the wild weather continues to batter the coast and there's been thunder, lightning and gale force wind (though not a hurricane as I previously imagined).  We woke up this morning to find our balcony flooded where branches blown free in the night had clogged up the drain.  As much as I'd one day like a swimming pool, one appearing on the balcony was not what I had in mind.  Poor Mystical Roo (he being the no nonsense hero) waded out to unclog the drain.  Luckily I hadn't left out the washing this time and there was no danger of escapee pants.  After discovering that a) mum's are always right and b) Mystical Roos are always right, I learnt from past experience and made sure I was togged up for my walk to work.  Water proof trousers, water proof jacket, umbrella, trainers and rucksack with items inside of rucksack wrapped in plastic bags for extra protection.  Go practical Stalky!  Yes there was more thievage of items belonging to Mystical Roo and I looked like a street urchin again but there we go.  First, to the letter box where snaffling Stalky is on the hunt for post.  To my horror I realise that the rain has swept into the letter box and soaked the two exciting looking items in there.  One, most likely a DVD and two, a letter with handwriting that certainly belongs to one of my grandparents.  Why couldn't it have been wet bills.  Or wet junk mail.  Damn you sideways rain!  My snaffling skills were not strong enough this morning and I was unable to get my hand in deep enough to retrieve the items.  Now I have to wait for Mystical Roo and his key before I can establish how much damage has been done.  After feeling sad about wet post I trudged towards work and decided to call the gym (that's a whole other story which involves much fist shaking).  Halfway through the phone call the heavens opened and rain started pouring on my head.  Now I was prepared with hood and umbrella but I was on the phone and only had one free hand.  So I tried to pull the hood up but I've stolen Mystical Roo's jacket and it's so big that it actually just keeps getting blown away from my face.  Must save the hair!  Can't turn up to work looking like a scarecrow (again).  I end the phone call and put the phone in the pocket of the raincoat but the zipper is stuck and I can't get it shut.  As I scramble to get my umbrella from the side pocket of my trusty Stalky rucksack I start to wonder whether a puddle will drown my phone in the pocket (it's already had one dunking in the bath you know!)  There's nothing I can do so just hope it will be alright.  I finally get the umbrella up and running but the wind is so strong that I can barely hold it in place.  I start zig zagging down the road with my head down and hair flying all over the place, desperately trying to keep my brolly in check.  I try to get the hood to stay in place but it's just too damned windy and I'm blinded by hair, umbrella and general squinting.  I can't actually look up at this point as I'm walking into the wind and rain and have to keep the umbrella in front of me like a shield but I figure I'll see feet before I walk into anyone and then WHAM!  Not a person.  A telegraph pole.  I've walked into a telegraph pole.  I hope no one saw.  Not that anyone would recognise me because at this point all you could see of me was green raincoat and leopard print brolly.  I plough on, determined that I'll make it to work without ending up in a tree.  The worst part is turning the corner and heading down the hill which leads down into the valley.  The wind was literally howling in my ears and I actually screamed.  Then I had to laugh because I was randomly screaming.  The laughter quickly stopped when my umbrella snapped!  It snapped.  What kind of freaky ass wind snaps a person's umbrella.  I was highly traumatised not only because my poor withered umbrella was now offering very little protection from the elements but because it was a really cool umbrella.  It was leopard print!  And it had survived nearly two whole years with me.  I haven't thrown it out yet.  I still hold some hope that Mystical Roo will fix it for me, though I don't know how.  I actually thought I was going to be late for work because I was walking so slowly.  I just couldn't get up any speed against the wind - it was pushing me backwards!  I arrived at work leaving puddles in my wake.  Who knew that trainers weren't water proof!  My socks were wet but my pants were dry.  What a drama!