Little Stalky is Thwarted by Gobbledygook

The more I do on the Internet the more I come across those weird verification codes that you have to type in before you're allowed to go any further.  And I find them infuriating.  I understand the need for them but honestly, do they - whoever they are - have to make them so hard to read?  Most of them are so jumbled together that I can't work out whether I'm looking at letters from the English language or some alien symbols from a far off planet.  So I often find myself squinting at these codes, trying to work out what the word is only to realise that it's not a word at all.  It's complete gobbledygook.  If it was a word I might have a better chance of getting the code right as I could give it an educated guess, but when I'm faced with "AgjRytt" the odds of me guessing correctly aren't great.  I will inevitably have numerous failed attempts, which result in much grumbling on my part, before I'm finally offered a code I can just about read.  Where the letters aren't conjoined in such a way that makes them look like someone sneezed whilst holding their pen.  The trouble is, by the time I've sorted the verification code out the website will inform me that my chosen password isn't confusing enough and I have to start all over again!

Little Stalky is Baffled by Monster Chooks

I've noticed, whilst doing my food shopping, that Australia seems to be home to some rather large items.  Salmon portions for example.  We never used to get salmon fillets the same size back in say Tesco or something.  Here they're huge.  So big in fact that we buy one portion, cut it in half and still have plenty for each plate.  But I guess that's all down to how the salmon is cut and here in Australia they're obviously more generous with their cuts.  But what about chicken breasts?  Surely a chicken breast is a chicken breast and that's that.  So how come the chicken breasts here are comically large?  Ginormous!  The chicken breasts we buy here are just massive.  They belong in the same category as those ridiculously over sized sweet potatoes.  I can only imagine that there are massive chickens roaming around Australia.  Monster chooks that would tower over their pommy counterparts.  This can be the only explanation for these crazy big chicken breasts.  What are they feeding these chickens?  Protein shakes or something!  The only thing that baffles me further is that we seem to find it impossible to buy a decent sized chook to roast.  They're all piddly little things that barely serve enough for a Little Stalky and her Mystical Roo.  So how come, if there are huge chicken breasts out there, seemingly taken from massive chickens, are we unable to locate a massive chicken to actually roast!  I am beyond confused with this one. 

Step Away from the Bronzer!

I've really got to stop watching day time TV whilst I do the ironing as it seems to send me into a frenzy.  This is never a good thing when holding a hot iron!  Today I've been watching that same woman who annoyed me before by announcing to the world that if you don't have curves you're not a real woman.  Well this same presenter has today been discussing the benefits of bronzer.  On men.  Now I'm not going to judge anyone who wants to wear bronzer and if there are guys out there who care that much about their tan then whatever but they'd pulled in this poor bloke and started to analyse his skin tone.  He was about fifty.  And a butcher!  And these stupid people are telling him he needs to where bronzer.  Why does he need to wear bronzer?  If he wants to wear bronzer that's ok but why does he need to wear bronzer!  They then start advising all of the men out there to start dipping into their girlfriend's beauty supplies.  I like to think of myself as a fairly open minded person but if I caught Mystical Roo dipping into my beauty supplies I think I'd be a little concerned.  Not only because he'd most likely be destroying my products but why should Mystical Roo be wearing make up.  Mystical Roo no!  Put the bronzer down.  There's already enough pressure on women to wear make-up and look perfect but now it seems men are being attacked too.  For not wearing bronzer.  When in the world did it become a frowned upon thing for a man to not be wearing bronzer.  Sometimes I think I must be behind the times.  But honestly, I don't care.  

Return of the Roach

Oh yes it's warming up over here and I found more evidence that summer is on the way in the form of a dead cockroach sprawled on my counter top.  Oh I shudder at the thought.  These particular beasties are huge.  Just monstrous.  And they appear as soon as the weather starts heating up.  It seems that they find there way into people's homes via the drains in the bathroom and then the invasion begins.  Every now and then you see one scuttling across the carpet and boy can those things move!  For seemingly ungraceful, large beasties, they're rather speedy.  I don't dare splat one of these things for fear that the resulting mess would not only cover the walls but also Little Stalky.  I kind of imagine they would spit out a smelly green goo or something.  Not only that but the size of these things would make me feel like I was killing an animal and then I would feel sad.  So, bashing the cockroaches is out of the question, which inevitably leads to a Little Stalky chasing a cockroach around the house.  Sometimes I'll arm myself with a magazine in the hope of getting some scoop action going on.  Other times I'll grab a glass with ideas of trapping the beastie before freeing it onto next door's balcony (joking!).  I think I've even tackled the situation with a broom.  The trouble is the cockroaches don't want to go back outside and seem to do everything in their power to stay in my flat.  They slip and slide their way off the top of the magazines, they zig zag across the floor at such speed that I become out of breath - out run by a cockroach; oh the shame - , and they're so big that some of the buggers don't actually fit underneath a glass.  Now that's just freaky!  Freaky and sneaky.  The cockroaches like to launch various sneak attacks which always result in a screaming Stalky.  Sometimes even a hip hopping Stalky.  And I don't rap, only when drunk, this is more of a hopping from one foot to the other as I react to seeing a cockroach hiding next to the toilet.  If I had skirts on I'd be flapping them.  I have learnt, however, that cockroaches do not appreciate my screaming.  In fact, as soon as I start screaming they seem to run around in circles in an attempt to escape.  So after pleas to Mystical Roo that a cockroach was guarding the toilet, refusing to let me enter and receiving little assistance I decided I would continue to scream at the cockroach until it left the bathroom.  Surprisingly this worked, though not before I looked like a crazy woman giving short bursts of scream in an attempt to rid my bathroom of the big black beastie.  And it's not just the household that these cockroaches invade.  They're everywhere.  We've been walking home from the pub of a night and all of a sudden something will shoot out in front of us.  Christ! Was that a cat?  Why no, it was a monster cockroach.  And they zig zag in front of your feet like they're trying to goad you.  Shifting in and out of the shadows like masked monsters.  And yes, coming back from the pub we may have had a drink or two, but I know they're out there.  Lurking in the dark.  Waiting to launch their cockroach attack.  But the one I found the other day, first cockroach of the season, was lying on it's back and was certainly not feeling well.  I have no idea what it was up to but something or someone thwarted it's attempts.  I didn't have to scream at it or anything.  Perhaps my cape wearing do-gooder, thwarter of demonic domestic devices is actually a cockroach crusader too.  A caped cockroach crusader!  I see I'm going to have to keep my eye on Mystical Roo.  I don't think I've ever seen them in the same room at the same time....

Summer Approacheth!

With summer approaching the birds are really out in force at the moment.  It's lovely to see and I'm still getting used to seeing exotic looking parrots and things just hanging around on the balcony.  Just a moment ago there were a couple of birds out there with major quiffs going on.  They were about the size of sparrows but had these little mohawks on their heads.  Amazing.  I really should get a bird book or something so I can identify all of these creatures.  So I'm happy to see all the birds out and about again but they're causing me some major confusion in the evening as they're still singing when it gets dark.  In fact last night they were still chirping away at about 9.30pm.  I associate birdsong with waking up, daylight, a walk in the park, Snow White.  Therefore to hear the birds chirping away whilst I'm in bed reading my book I have to wonder if I've somehow fallen asleep without realising it, woken up in the same position but with dawn breaking.  No, it's still the middle of the night.  I thought birds had some sort of curfew.  Like they had to be tucked up once the sun is down.  Obviously not!

Demonic Domestic Devices Thwarted by Cape Wearing Do-Gooder

After recently discussing the woes we face when using the devilish hoover of doom at work, the beast has actually been recalled.  I couldn't believe it!  I came into the office one day and saw a newspaper article that actually highlighted the dangers of the hoover of doom and how a faulty part meant there was a risk of electrocution!  My God!  I knew it was evil.  I knew it!  So we've stopped using the hoover of doom and there is now a little sign taped to it's head to indicate it is to be left alone.  I can see the anger simmering in it's plastic yellow body; it's chance to strike again snatched away.  I'm always careful when I walk past it, fearful that it might reach out and snag my leg or something.  But the floors still have to be hoovered and without an immediate replacement we've been using the hoovers from the laundry.  These are monstrous contraptions that you strap to your back, thus resulting in the previously referred to "Ghostbuster" look.  I'm happy with this look but those hoovers weigh almost as much as I do so it's a bit of a mission to lug around.  But these hoovers seem to behave themselves and so far have neither fallen to pieces nor zapped me with static electricity.  The only trouble is they're not so easy to just put down if you have to pause in your hoovering to assist a customer.  Instead you have to serve them whilst wearing your hoover.  This resulted in much smirking from a teenage boy who had asked me to get him some milk.  I'm more than happy to get milk.  But that day I had to get milk whilst wearing my hoover.  So off I trudge, outside into the shop, back out into reception, all the time wearing my hoover like a little hoover tortoise or something.  It's not the ideal way to get about but I guess it does the job.  So that's another evil domestic device that has been thwarted.  It makes me wonder if there is someone out there fighting for good.  Someone pure of heart and free of lint.  Someone willing to take on the machines that are bent on causing chaos.  Who is this heroic do-gooder and does he/she wear a cape?  I like to think so.  

Things That Go Bump...Next Door

Today I've been up to my Little Stalky cleaning antics, which usually involve much wearing of a tracksuit whilst listening to and dancing to my music.  I had a proper spring clean today and for some reason was overcome with the need to organise my wardrobe.  As you do.  I felt better for it though and discovered clothes I'd forgotten I even owned.  Some so old in fact that they've come back into fashion.  Good job I didn't throw them away!  The thing that did get me thinking was the discovery of three pairs of knickers in my underwear drawer that don't belong to me.  I know my pants and I'm certain that these rogue items are not mine.  This got me thinking, I must have somehow inadvertently stolen someone's pants!  I have no idea how this happened but I can only imagine that either El Kenco or Monster Noggin are missing their undies.  So ladies...I might have your pants!  After putting my wardrobe back in order I got on to the less interesting jobs of cleaning the bathroom and hoovering the floor.  With the hoover whirring, occasionally growling and my music at a decent volume I didn't initially hear the random noise that began vibrating through the room.  When I did, I jumped and thought it was my phone ringing.  I leaped for the phone, then the second phone - Little Stalkys require two phones; one is like a bat phone - but neither was making any noise at all, let alone vibrating.  I switched off the hoover and then proceeded to yelp in surprise as the vibrating noise swiftly turned into a rattling / banging noise.  On guard, I spun a circle but still could not identify the noise.  It was only when I heard the squealing of a drill next door did I realise that the neighbours were apparently partaking in a bit of DIY.  I didn't even know we had neighbours.  But obviously we do.  Loud, drill using neighbours.  Maybe they were retaliating against my music but it wasn't that loud.  The drilling continued for another five or ten minutes before vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared.  I'm glad because I'm pretty sure our neighbours were close to coming through the wall!

Little Stalky Goes to the Zoo

You've got to love trips to the zoo; especially in Australia where you get to see kangaroos and koalas!  Mystical Roo and I have been to a few wildlife parks and every time I'm drawn to the same animals.  I want to stroke the koalas and feed the roos.  Then I'm happy.  We actually went to Australia Zoo in Queensland where I was actually able to hold a koala and give him a cuddle.  It was amazing!  Here in New South Wales it's illegal to hold koalas like that but we still get to stroke them and look at them.  And smell them.  At the wildlife park in Nowra the koala dude insisted we all take a good whiff of koala.  Smell a koala?  Well, when in Rome...So we all sniffed the koala, who I must say smelt rather lovely.  He had airs of citrus about him mixed with a kind of cigar box smell.  Perhaps the koala had been eating lemons whilst enjoying a smoke.  Who knows.  We also got to hold a snake on that day, which was most excellent.  Rabby and I had our photo taken whilst Bear Z watched on in horror.  Snakes aren't everyone's cup of tea.  Mystical Roo is ok with snakes.  In fact, one tried to stowaway in his rucksack!  I think they'd made friends.  After cooing over the koalas I love to go and see the kangaroos.  They're seen as a kind of pest over here but I think they're adorable.  And so friendly!  Or pushy, in some cases.  They bounce straight on over and start looking at you with wide eyes in the hope of food.  One of them had a kind of yokel look on his face, with a strange jaw and sticky out teeth.  We didn't want to be rude but we had to put his food on the floor.  I think if he'd taken it from our hands he would have left teeth marks!  At one point Bear Z found herself surrounded by what can only be describes as a throng of roos.  She was thus named Queen of the Roos.  Some of them get a bit impatient with you and one roo, who shall not be named, actually nicked off with a whole bag of feed.  Greedy little bugger.  But still cute.  You can't stay mad at something so cute.  

Little Stalky Predicts the Weather

The weather was gorgeous yesterday.  Blue skies.  Sun shining.  Hardly a cloud in the sky.  And yes our air conditioning unit decided to break down but we try to ignore that.  Yet on this seemingly perfect day I can sense that a storm is coming.  If you could hear me saying this imagine me with a beard and pirate voice - aye there be a storm a brewing.  Yes indeed, Little Stalky can predict the weather.  What a lovely day.  Yes, but there's a storm on the way.  But how do you know?  Well, I looked at the weather website.  No!  I have a monster headache.  Or to be more precise I have a monster headache of doom.  And this is how I know a storm is coming.  These headaches build like the weather and reach an eye squinting level of intensity just as the rain starts to fall.  Yes it's cool that I can predict the weather but it would be even cooler if it didn't involve a monster headache of doom.  Perhaps hiccups or something less painful.  Or maybe even impromptu singing.  I guess that could be embarrassing.  And just to confirm everyone; I was right.  There was a storm.  My headaches can predict a storm as well as my hair can predict the humidity!   

Use The Other Door!

At work we have a rogue automatic door.  It seems to have a mind of it's own and refuses to yield to the rules of your average automatic door.  If someone stands in front of it it won't open.  If someone is no where near it, it opens.  If it's bored it stops halfway and refuses to budge.  It's just trying to do the opposite of everything it's supposed to do!  Naughty automatic door.  It's counterpart doesn't cause this kind of trouble.  This one is obviously the attention seeker!  So when the weather is bad and we can't be doing with the door opening at inopportune moments we lock it and put a sign on the door to advise our customers they need to use the other, more well behaved, door.  This sign is large, well printed, easy to read and placed at eye level of your average sized person.  Yet no one sees this sign!  It's like it's invisible.  Never before have I seen so many people ignore a perfectly obvious sign.  We see them coming, striding towards the door for whatever reason and from the vantage point of the office it certainly appears that they see the sign yet for reasons unknown they just stare blankly at the door in what seems to be disbelief.  How dare the door be shut.  Open door, open!  To be honest the door doesn't open at the best of times but there we go.  So they peer in at us and start knocking on the door.  And thus a weird mouthing, pointing scenario ensues that involves a bizarre mime with us as puppets and the automatic door and it's sign the puppet master.  We point at the sign but people stare at us blankly, then we make a kind of weird arm crossing motion to indicate the door is locked.  Still this doesn't work.  Then there's the kind of pointing, head cocking movement that is meant to tell the person they need to use the other door.  And then we mouth "use the other door" and then we shout "USE THE OTHER DOOR."  And finally the penny drops.  Something clicks and the person in question darts around to the other side and voila:  uses the other door.  Amazing.  The worst thing is when it's hammering it down outside and some poor bugger is hopping around in front of the locked door getting totally soaked.  Even Mystical Roo failed to see the sign when he came to collect me from work.  Why Mystical Roo?  Why did you not see the sign?  He simply could not answer.  Perhaps this sign has magical powers.  Perhaps the automatic door has mastered mind control.  All I know is that we need a new method to inform our customers that the door has been locked.  A loud speaker perhaps.

Super Furry Strawberry of Doom!

I'm a bit of a strawberry fiend and now that strawberries are on offer (or on special as my friends correct me) I like to indulge in a punnet on a regular basis.  For the ultimate strawberry experience I like to be super indulgent and have strawberries whilst in a big bubble bath, with wine and my book.  Most excellent.  So, whilst waiting for Mystical Roo to return from a business trip I was wallowing in the bath like a hippo, enjoying wine, book and aforementioned strawberries.  I love strawberries.  So, I'm munching away, munch, munch, munch when I reach my hand into the punnet and feel something that's not quite strawberry like.  No, not strawberry like at all.  My Stalky senses are tingling so I put the book to one side to stop myself from dropping it in the bath and sit up to investigate.  What rogue item has found its way into my strawberry punnet?  What foul beastie is lurking?  What the heckity hell has my finger just brushed?  Do I really want to find out?  Well, probably not.  There was no alien object lingering within.  Just a super furry strawberry.  A super furry strawberry!  I was horrified that this monstrous thing had been sitting amongst my other less furry strawberries and had to question how I had not seen this abomination when purchasing the punnet.  This thing had a full on quiff going on.  A white strawberry mullet.  A tuft of snowy tendrils.  It was disgusting.  I wasn't sure whether it was a good or a bad thing that the thing had gone white and not green.  Maybe white is worse than green.  Who knows?  I wondered whether this thing had infected my other strawberries?  Would I wake up in the morning with a sore tummy?  What if I hadn't been paying attention (as is often the case) and slipped that thing straight into my mouth?!  The consequences would have been horrendous.  I stared grudgingly at my white haired strawberry, longingly at the remaining non furry strawberries but decided my little feast had been ruined.  Knowing a white haired beast had possibly tainted my snack I could not face another bite.  I closed up the punnet and instead returned to my wine.  I think I had nightmares that night.  Perhaps I'll be forever haunted by white bearded strawberries.  

Bad TV Reception is Not My Fault

I'm starting to get frustrated at work with the amount of people who complain about bad TV reception.  I accept that poor TV reception can be an annoying thing, especially if your favourite show is on but honestly people, the whole town has bad TV reception and there's nothing we can do about it.  If it was something I could control then please, tell me off if I've done something wrong but I promise you there is nothing I can do.  I get bad TV reception at home so yes you're going to get bad TV reception in your tent.  And really, you're on holiday, you're camping - do you really need to watch TV that badly.  Talk to each other, play a game of cards, go out for a drink.  It doesn't matter!  Just please stop whining at me that you're going to miss your show because my hands are tied - as much as I'd like to I have no power over the TV signals.  If I did, we'd all be watching Scrubs or something and there would be no sport in sight.  So when you think about it, it's probably a good job that I don't have control over the TV signal.  It could be mayhem.  I try to do my best for customers, I really do, and I'll always go out of my way to fix any problems but I'm on the verge of breaking over the TV reception saga.  I want to grab some people and tell them there are more important things in life than watching TV.  When you're in a gorgeous park with mountains, the ocean, an amazing town, so much to see and do, does it really matter, does it honestly make a difference, if you miss one episode of Masterchef!  Step away from the TV and see the world.

Little Stalky Get's Cold Feet

When Little Stalkys are subjected to changes in temperature they in turn change colour.  And it's a little bit freaky!  It's mainly my hands and feet that react and apparently it's something to do with weird circulation.  That would be right; even my circulation is weird!  So if I have a hot shower or something my feet go really red and the veins in my hands pop up and make it look like I have man hands!  But when I get cold my hands and feet go purple and when it gets really cold my toes get really purple and my hands get orange spots.  It's most peculiar.  Sometimes my lips will join in and they'll turn purple too.  That's got me out of PE once or twice when I didn't like the idea of playing hockey on an pitch solid from the ice!  Miss, miss, my lips have gone purple!  Why you're right.  You must get inside immediately.  Yes, yes I should.  Maybe that's why El Kenco was the sporting genius and I was always in the B team.  But El Kenco suffers too.  I've seen her in the sea with very purple lips.  And it wasn't because she'd been drinking red wine!  Mystical Roo is often harassed by my purple feet and hands.  Not only are they a funny colour they're also really cold.  And when I get into bed with cold hands and feet the first thing I want to do is warm them up.  And what's the warmest thing in the bed?  Why that would be Mystical Roo.  Sometimes I feign innocence when he yelps in protest but we both know that I know.  Mwah ha ha.  Sometimes Mystical Roo doesn't mind so much.  If he's feeling hot or has a headache or something an ice cold Stalky hand on the forehead can be quite a good thing.  When I went to get my toes done and had to have evil toe injections the nurse had to actually massage my feet just to get the blood pumping so that the anaesthetic would get a move on.  It's like I have lazy circulation or something.  So, when the weather get's cold I become and orange spotted, purple Stalky!  We're very rare you know. 

A Hay Bale and a Half

I remember when we were younger we used to play in the farmer's field and climb on the hay bales.  I don't know what we used to do that was so much fun but we could lose hours in the hay bale field pretending that a tornado was coming or imagining the hay bale was a pirate ship or something.  Village folk.  We're a bit weird.  Anyway, I'm pretty sure the farmer had no problem with us in the field as we were good kids and didn't try to steal the hay bales or anything but there was this one dude, with a tash, who frowned upon us.  He and his tash; they frowned.  We used to hide from him when we saw his car coming by so that he wouldn't tell us off.  One time when he did catch up with us he gave us a lecture on how hay bales weighed a tonne and if one fell on us we'd be squished.  Scary yes, but I failed to see how a hay bale would fall on me when they were all sat on the ground and as far I as I could ascertain were not likely to be hoicked up into the air and above my head any time soon.  Random.  But the idea that a hay bale weighs a tonne has stuck with me to this day.  And I have no clue whether this is actually true.  Do hay bales really weigh a tonne?  Surely they vary in weight.  Who knows.  All I know is that I now think of tonnes as hay bales.  If someone says to me that something weighs two tonnes - and why this would come up in conversation is a mystery - but if someone says something weighs two tonnes I immediately think it weighs two hay bales.  I think in terms of hay bales!  This is not a normal thing to do!  I repeat.  Village folk.  We're a bit weird.  

When it Rains, it Pours...on Little Stalky's Head!

My God we've had some random weather here recently.  After the mental winds from a week or so ago we've now had mental rain.  And when it rains here it really rains!  Poor Mystical Roo was out on the balcony again unclogging the drain so that our front room didn't get flooded.  I think it rained all day and all night.  And of course Little Stalky was working and so had another fun trip in the pouring rain.  But remember everyone, I'm now prepared!  With waterproof trousers, waterproof jacket and amazing leopard print umbrella. I'm pleased to report that the umbrella made it safely to and from work and was not nabbed or attacked by any rogue wind.  No, yesterday it was pretty much just the rain and a lot of it.  I had a pretty successful trip to work and it was only my feet that got wet.  I know that my trainers don't seem to keep out the water but I thought I'd try it again anyway.  Save wearing plastic bags around my feet (and I know this has worked before) I didn't really have any other option.  I didn't walk into a telegraph pole this time but I did walk into a tree.  I really must learn to watch where I'm going but I have to hold the umbrella at such an angle that it obscures my view.  So I stumbled into this tree, wobbled a bit, muttered a polite hello to the tree and then continued on my way.  It was at this point I realised my waterproof trousers had started foaming.  Foaming!  I have no idea where this foaming has come from.  I can only assume that it's washing powder or something.  So yesterday I turned up to work foaming at the legs.  How delightful!  I also met some ducks on the way into work, which was cool.  I nodded my greeting to these ducks whilst chuckling to myself at how it was lovely weather for ducks.  I'm so witty.  The ducks accompanied me a short while before becoming distracted by something more interesting.  Typical ducks.  I think my colleagues have become accustomed to my turning up at work kitted out in wet weather gear and leaving puddles in my wake.  I'm not sure if they noticed the foaming at the legs but no one said anything.  I'm going to have to look at those trousers.  They'll no doubt be used again in the near future and I don't want to become the foam girl or anything.  Who knows, next time I might become enveloped in a huge ball of foam.  Surely that can't be a good thing.  

Little Stalky Does Battle with the Frozen Chook

I seem to encounter a lot of drama in the kitchen.  And I'm only a little bit of a drama queen myself so something else must be going on in there.  From epic battles with various containers of food, to exploding soda water, I always manage to get myself in a pickle.  My latest adventure in the kitchen involved a batch of frozen chicken breasts.  The same chicken breasts in fact that had previously leaked all over the floor at Woolworths.  They were in a big pack and I needed to get two out for dinner and so I reached in to grab them but they were stuck.  Wedged in between a previously made lasagne and a bag of frozen peas.  How hard can it be to pull a bag of frozen chicken from the freezer?  Quite tricky as it turns out.  They were in there really tight and I had to engage in a kind of tug of war with Little Stalky on one end and the frozen chicken on the other end.  I think the odds were in favour of the frozen chicken as I was at a lower angle and quite frankly have the strength of a gnat.  But I gave it my all and in the end prevailed.  But not before the frozen chicken had the last word.  I only wanted the two pieces but the rest of them seemed determined to come out too.  I had to pry them apart with a pair of scissors and some bashing on the counter top.  I returned the remaining chicken breasts to the freezer but kept them away from the lasagne and frozen peas.  I have my suspicions that if I leave them all together too long they'll start conspiring to develop a counter attack! 

Hoover of Doom

The latest household appliance I've done battle with is the hoover of doom.  And this isn't my hoover because I have a rather nifty Dyson who I get on with very well.  No, this is the evil hoover of doom that lives at work.  And I hate it.  We all hate it.  Never before I have I met such an awkward piece of equipment.  I wouldn't even know where to start when describing how bad this hoover is.  Firstly it's impossible to move.  It's like an old Henry Hoover but it's square and just refuses to move in a straight line.  It weaves around like a drunken piece of plastic, smashes into things and flatly refuses to go around corners.  It's like a reject from Robot Wars that does nothing but go round in squiffy little circles.  When you finally manage to get the beast on the move it then decides to fall to pieces.  It's connected in two parts with the hose thing connecting to the square plastic box and then the sucky bit attaching to the hose thing.  But the sucky thing won't stay put.  You'll be happily (or rather not so happily) hoovering away and then splat, the whole thing falls apart and drops on the floor.  You can hear people hoovering, then you hear a clunk, then you hear cursing followed by a dark muttering.  We've tried sellotaping the thing in place but that doesn't work.  I've now opted for jamming it into place with brute force and I don't have much brute force so it only works for a little while.  So you might think this hoover of doom is actually just a gormless piece of rubbish but it's actually a conniving machine that's bent on destroying office morale.  That's what it is.  Because whilst it's wobbling behind you, falling to pieces in your hands it's also zapping you with static electricity.  It zaps us all so hard that you can actually hear the crackle of energy in the air.  The whole thing turns into a circus.  Pull the hoover along, it won't go in a straight line, knock over stack of paper, crash into a wall, trip over a colleague and then splat it's broken in half again, curse and grumble and mutter and reattach the damned thing and then zap! you're hit by the static electricity which then causes louder cursing followed by more muttering and grumbling.  It's no wonder we all look so disheveled after doing the hoovering.  I want the old hoover back that we used to strap to our backs.  With a headset on to answer the phone and a hoover strapped to my back I used to think of myself as some sort of administrative ghost buster.  I looked so cool.  I'm not sure where that old hoover actually went to.  I bet the new hoover of doom somehow orchestrated it's demise.  How devious.  I can see I'm going to have to watch my back with this one.

Little Stalky Spreads the Word About Rogue Washing Machines...Whilst Getting a Hair Cut

Being the lazy Little Stalky that I am it often takes me ages to get round to going to the hairdressers.  I've never been that fussed about getting my hair done but I have to maintain a certain level of appearance so I finally got round to booking myself an appointment.  I actually live above the hairdressers so really I don't have an excuse not to go.  I've recently started having colour put in my hair and that's turned my hair appointments into two hour long sessions!  Mystical Roo must wonder where I've disappeared to.  So I natter away to the hairdressers who always make me feel like I have a very deep voice.  The hairdressers are lovely, very friendly but they do all have very "girly" voices.  It makes my English accent sound very low and masculine.  I know Monster Noggin has told me that she feels the same.  Maybe with English accents we just have a different tone.  Or maybe we just sound like men.  Anyway, I was enjoying getting my hair washed as they always give you a little head massage that's nice and relaxing but the moment was pretty much destroyed by the woman next to me telling her hairdresser about her scab.  Nice.  I guess there's a certain element of responsibility for the woman to warn the hairdresser about her scab but the level of detail that then followed was in no way necessary.  I think all of us were willing her to stop.  But she never did.  I then became distracted by the washing machine in the room next door.  My ears perked up when I heard it bouncing and rattling much like our rogue ex washing machine.  I did what any responsible Little Stalky would do and warned the hairdressers of rogue washing machines and their purple sock stealing ways.  After that I was returned to my chair where two hairdressers started to blow dry my hair.  I felt very important; like a model or something.  Maybe they just wanted to get me out quickly in case I started gabbling on about demonic washing machines.  I was out within two hours and must say it was nice to have my locks looking fresh again.  I can confirm the do was a success because when I stepped out onto the pavement I got beeped at by a passing lorry.  Who knew that lorry drivers had such high appreciation for a good haircut.

Little Stalky's Purple Sock: The Mystery is Solved

It's been an exciting weekend for Little Stalky.  After helping (sort of) Monster Noggin move into her new house I was excited to be finally getting a new washing machine.  You'll remember that the old washing machine snuffed it a while back but I'd like to assure everyone that Mystical Roo and I have been washing our clothes.  We don't smell.  Not anymore.  So after doing my bit with the move - I did help carry the TV - we came home with the new washing machine.  Oh the sheer joy!  It's ridiculous how excited I was.  So, the new washing machine arrives and we, or rather Ammy and Monster Noggin, bring it in.  I can already feel the tension as the old washing machine eyes up it's replacement.  I need to get in there quick and make sure the old one doesn't start giving it ideas.  The last thing I need is another nemesis.  But I think the old washing machine resents the new one.  It might have hated every minute here in the flat but it had it's place and I think took a certain pleasure in wreaking it's own unique havoc.  Now it shall wreak havoc no more!  No more.  It was drawn out of the laundry room without too much struggle and Mystical Roo led it down to the garage where it will await disposal.  I feel a small pang of sadness, maybe even a touch of regret at how things were left between us but this quickly dissolves when I see what the beast has left behind.  Not only was it jumping around, trying to escape, making as much noise as possible, it was also creating a giant pool of rust whilst leaving black marks on the tiles.  I was greeted by a pool of orange muck.  The washing machine's parting gift to me.  But this was all quickly forgotten.  Because it wasn't just a mess that had been left behind.  The removal of the rogue washing machine had revealed something quite wonderful.  In fact, I remember the words of Ammy and Monster Noggin as they revealed that a sock had been left behind.  A sock?  Why, could it be?  Could I hope?  Dare I?  I was cautiously stood beside the new washing machine when I asked - is it purple?  Both Monster Noggin and Ammy confirmed that the sock was indeed purple. A sock?  That's purple?  But is it the purple sock.  I rushed to the door and there it was.  The purple sock!  My purple sock!  It was curled up in the corner like a poor disheveled lost soul, soggy but otherwise clear of rust.  My poor purple sock.  I retrieved my little sock and returned it to the laundry pile where it will await a wash.  I must confess to having gently laid it atop of pair of Mystical Roo's jeans before giving it a little pat.  Oh purple sock it's good to see you again.  So it wasn't the sock monster after all.  It was the rogue washing machine.  It stole the purple sock from me in one last act of revenge.  But I wonder, at the end of it all did the rogue washing machine feel a sense of remorse for it's actions.  Could it have taken the purple sock with it?  Did the rogue washing machine actually intend to leave the purple sock behind as a way of saying sorry.  Was this the grand gesture I'd been waiting for?  Perhaps I'll never know.  But the the purple sock is safe.  The rogue washing machine has been banished and the new washing machine has arrived.  Perhaps a Little Stalky and her washing machine can finally be friends.  Only time will tell. 

Moving a Fridge Using a Tiny Skateboard

Monster Noggin will be moving house this weekend and we'll all be on hand to help.  I'll be assisting in the form of carrying small and light boxes whilst admiring the new house and the ocean view.  I'm not much good at anything else.  And it's not that I don't want to help, it's just that I tend to become more of a hindrance than anything else.  Everyone puts me to shame when it comes to heavy lifting; Monster Noggin, Ammy, Duke.  It won't be long before Squishy can handle more than me.  I just seem to mess it up.  I hold things at the wrong angle and lose my balance, I trap my fingers, I stumble up and down the stairs.  Basically I'm rubbish.  Ammy and I tried helping Mystical Roo bring our fridge up the stairs once and that was a terrifying experience.  Mystical Roo had most of the weight and me and Ammy were guiding the fridge from the bottom but all I could see was this huge fridge and was convinced it was going to squish us.  After that my assistance was no longer required.  It should be fun trying to move Monster Noggin's fridge as that thing's a beast.  I remember when we first tried to move it into the flat and the only way we could do it was by manoeuvring it onto a tiny skateboard before shimmying it over to the lift.  I can't remember if we sent it up on it's own but I think anyone at the other end would have been surprised if they'd been waiting for a ride.  Why hello, I'm a giant fridge.  So I wonder whether we'll be enlisting the assistance of that tiny skateboard again.  Maybe we'll have a better plan this time.  Either way I know I won't be involved.

Grocery Shopping: The Saga Continues

In the continuing drama that centres around my Woolworths, things have taken another turn for the worse in the form of dodgy salmon and squiffy sour cream.  Squiffy!  Mystical Roo was on a mission for salmon and so headed to the deli counter where the gent who served him threw in a second piece for free.  How delightful!  It was the last one there and there was no point in packing it away for the night so give it away for free.  What a nice thing.  Or not so nice.  When you cook it up for dinner and realise it's off!  Who gives away bad fish.  It's just not cool.  Ok, so maybe the dude didn't realise the fish was squiff but still.  I'm getting a little bit frustrated with all of the dodgy food we buy from the supposed "fresh food" people.  Mystical Roo served up some sour cream with our fajitas and I took one taste before making a face after realising the cream had gone off.  I checked the sell by date and realised it was 5 days past and commented to Mystical Roo how we'd obviously forgotten how long we'd had it.  Oh no.  Mystical Roo purchased said sour cream earlier that day.  How can they sell sour cream that's 5 days past it's sell by date!  Previous to that I'd bought a bag of onions and 4 of them were rotten.  Bah!  I'm feeling a letter coming on.  We were shopping the other night and the chicken we'd selected started leaking juice all over the floor.  We asked for a bag and the checkout girl obliged before glancing down and asking whether the floor was wet.  We confirmed it was.  She rang the bell and advised she'd have to get that cleaned up otherwise someone would sue them.  Not, someone might fall and hurt themselves or, gross there's chicken juice on the floor, just, someone might sue us.  I despair!  This supermarket really needs to sort it out.  We'd go elsewhere but there's only the one in our town.  What they need is that trolley dude running the show.  Now there's a man who would get the job done.   

Little Stalky Encounters a Blockage

Well it was very much like walking through a tree graveyard on the way to work today.  After the horrendous winds from Sunday there were branches all over the shot and the carnage only grew the further I went.  It created quite the obstacle course for a Little Stalky and her rucksack.  Initially there was just the odd branch here and there but as I turned the corner onto one street the entire pavement was blocked by a massive tangle of branches.  I wonder what's left of that tree if so much of it is piled on the side of the pavement.  I considered this mighty pile of wood with typical Stalky curiosity but decided that to climb it would be foolish, to go through it would be impossible, to go under it would be unnecessary so I took the sensible option of going round it.  This meant I had to go onto the road but with an average of maybe one car in ten minutes I figured I'd be ok.  I skirted the barricade successfully and neither me, nor the rucksack, nor the leopard print umbrella were affected.  I continued my walk to work without encountering any other such blockages but there were still a fair few branches lurking.  That wind really did a number on the poor old trees.  I'm a little bit nervous because more wind has been predicted for tomorrow.  I'll be interested to see just how windy it intends to be...

Stalky Against the Machines: Sofa Rage

I'm currently having a moment where technology is driving me fruit loopy.  And I know I shouldn't complain, especially as I'm relying on technology to share this post with you all but honestly, things are about to get thrown.  And I mean big things.  If I could throw a sofa, I probably would.  I like to think of myself as a fairly tech savvy kind of gal but today I've been pushed to the edge by computers and internet connections!  Gah!  I feel much of my frustration comes from having a limited amount of time to do all the things I want to do and realise that the one thing standing in my way of doing all the things I want to do is a stupid internet connection that keeps conking out for no apparent reason.  No apparent reason!  One minute it's connected the next minute that little egg timer appears that tells me my page isn't going to load up.  Gah again!  Now normally I try to solve these things by myself with a bit of restarting the computer etc, etc but today I was straight on the phone to the internet people and was quickly being talked through various processes to try and get things working again.  The thing is, I don't think the woman on the other end of the phone really understood what I was saying and if I'm honest, I don't think I really understood what she was saying either.  And then, just to top it all off, my phone starts beep beepity beeping at me whilst I'm trying to listen to the woman.  And now we all know what beep beepity beep means don't we?  Yes, it's low battery.  And the charger is on the other side of the room.  And the laptop doesn't like to be unplugged because it's battery is old and useless.  So I give the phone a bit of juice to get it going, apologise to the woman who seems very confused by what I'm up to before running over to the other side of the room where the laptop is plugged in and then furiously unplugging random plugs to free up not one but two sockets for my phone charger.  You see, the phone charger is a weird shape and will not, I repeat will not, happily sit in amongst another plug.  Oh no, that beast needs two spaces all for itself.  So I've unplugged God knows what, got the phone charging, got the laptop charging, am sat on the floor talking to the woman and then two minutes later there's a new kind of beeping in my ear and the line goes dead.  I look at my phone in exasperation only to be greeted by a little flashing message advising me that the call has failed.  The call has failed.  Unbelievable.  The wrath of the machines as they once again gang up on me.  It's at this point that I gave up and made myself some beans on toast.  So, if there's an unexpected absence in posts you know it's because various items, including the laptop, have been thrown out the window!

Wild Weather...Part 3?

Who knew that Wild Weather would have so many sequels!  Apparently the weather is pretty wild where I live.  So on Sunday I was woken up to the sounds of my windows rattling in their panes as huge gusts of winds ripped through our town.  Bloody wind woke me up before the alarm clock did!  Bah!  But this was some serious wind.  This isn't just leopard print umbrella stealing wind.  This is the type of wind that will nick off with a whole shop full of leopard print umbrellas!  I've honestly never seen anything like it.  The trees were swaying, the windows were rattling and the ocean was huge.  Somehow there were surfers out in the swell but I don't know how they could see a thing because the spray coming off those rollers was immense.  There wasn't a bird in sight.  And then, as I sat eating my lovely high fibre breakfast, I see some sheets flying past the window, twirling round and whipping towards the sea.  Someone's not going to be happy when they realise the wind has stolen their linen.  Obviously they don't have the hurricane force pegs that we do.  And I'm serious about that.  Our pegs were advertised as hurricane force.  We bought them because Mystical Roo is drawn to anything yellow and green but obviously hurricane force pegs is what you need out here.  So I was working on Sunday and Mystical Roo kindly drove me down to the holiday park so that Little Stalky was not blown away.  The ute was rocking in the wind and I wondered how things would be going at work.  Not great apparently.  The wind, which we now know reached up to 100km/h had taken down numerous trees in the park and was causing chaos throughout.  We had vans crushed, cars crushed and even a few people hit on the noggin with low flying branches.  Luckily no one was seriously injured but there was quite a lot of damage.  Things were being ripped off of caravans and the phone was hot with callers describing bits of van hurtling by.  For a few hours it was just mayhem and then at lunchtime, as if by magic, the wind simply vanished.  It had dished out it's tree felling wrath and then buggered off leaving us with a lovely sunny day, blue skies and a lot of firewood.  Bloody wind. 

Bedtime Adventures

Sleep can be a funny old thing.  Sometimes I'll drift off to the land of nod where I have pleasant dreams and wake up feeling refreshed.  Other times my mind goes to a darker place and I rise feeling less than perfect.  I dream every single night.  I also have a history of talking in my sleep, shouting in my sleep, screaming in my sleep and even sometimes getting up to do things in my sleep.  Sometimes I remember my nightly escapades whilst other times I remain oblivious.  It's the strangest thing when you wake yourself up with your own voice and realise you're in the middle of a sentence.  I've woken up with the strangest notions; one of the weirdest being the idea that if I don't find my tap shoe, which I believe is hidden in my tissue box, I'll fail my test.  I actually realised what I was doing halfway through pulling out wads of tissues, shook my head in confusion and then went back to sleep.  Very bizarre.  I know I've got up in the middle of the night convinced that I haven't taken off my make up, even though I have, gone searching for make up wipes and started to wash my face again.  When I did that I couldn't remember what I'd done until I saw the face wipes on the side and I suddenly had memories of the previous night.  I guess most of the time it's just harmless but I've scared myself in the past sitting bolt upright in bed and gasping for air.  I've also scared Mystical Roo.  He's heard whimperings from me as I have nightmares (probably about land dwelling sharks or something) and has said he's heard a terror in my voice that freaked him out.  The worst time was when I woke up the household screaming.  This was when we first moved to Australia and were all sharing a house.  I screamed at the top of my lungs that night and only realised what had happened when I woke to find myself curled up at the end of the bed and Mystical Roo standing by the light switch with a look of shock on his face.  Apparently I'd screamed twice and flung myself to the end of the bed.  I even woke Monster Noggin up who was on the other side of the house.  That was embarrassing.  And I still don't remember what caused my cries.  Perhaps memories of the pirate ship...But it's not just me who has these nighttime adventures.  Mystical Roo has also been known to talk in his sleep and take midnight strolls.  He's not quite as vocal as me but he has woken me up once or twice and in a sleepy state I've had a nonsensical conversation with Mystical Roo whilst he's been asleep.  I think he was upset once about my defence tactics in a game of Risk but I can't be sure.  I've caught him wandering around a few times and once I was woken up to find him fiddling with the drawers underneath our bed.  It scared the crap out of me.  I remember asking him what he was doing, to which he replied he was fixing the drawers.  Obviously.  Why wouldn't he be fixing the drawers at one o'clock in the morning.  The drawers weren't even broken.  I also caught him in our walk in wardrobe and on questioning him I discovered he was looking for the light switch.  I tried to explain that the light switch was next to the bedroom door and not in the wardrobe but my message didn't seem to be getting through.  In the end I went and flicked the switch myself to which I got a smug, told you the switch was in here.  Yes.  I wonder what would happen if Mystical Roo and I decided to start sleep walking at the same time as one another?  Without a conscious person to control the situation, who knows what crazy adventures we could get in to!     

Spring has Sprung

It was the first day of spring on the 1st of September and what a day it was.  It's like everything knew it was spring.  I stepped outside the flat on my way to work and was immediately hit with a warm breeze.  A warm breeze?  And it was positively muggy outside.  I'd put my jacket on because of the cold August winds I'd encountered recently but regretted it straight away because it was so warm.  I know the girls at work told me the winds would stop once August was out of the way but really?  The 1st of September?  The first day of spring.  How is the weather so organised?!  I must confess I had a bit of a sweat on by the time I arrived at work and made a mental note that it was time to get the shorts out.  Prior to my leaving the flat I had noticed a lot of bird activity but hadn't, at this point, pieced together that it was the first day of spring. The Johns from the fruit tree out front had made an appearance and I could hear them squawking away.  Then I noticed a huge cockatoo chilling on the balcony opposite to ours.  I never realise how massive these birds are until I see them up close.  They're really big.  And their yellow Mohawk style quiffs puff up when they caw.  They're also really noisy and like to make a huge show of their presence.  Look!  I'm over here!  Look at me!  I'm a cockatoo and I have a big yellow quiff.  After a while a few more arrived and the whole thing turned into one big cockatoo convention.  Someone must have said something offensive though because they all took off rather suddenly.  So, the birds are out in force and the weather has taken a turn for the warmer.  Lovely.  But spring isn't all about warm winds and cockatoo conventions.  Sometimes it's about the bugs.  The bloody bugs.  I was at work until about 7pm, by which time it's become dark outside.  A couple of us were just chilling in reception when the automatic doors open and a huge swarm of insects come swirling through.  My first instincts are to flee.  I'm not scared of bugs but these look like huge bitey mosquitoes and Little Stalkys don't react well to being bitten by huge bitey mosquitoes.  In fact if you've ever seen my feet after they've been bitten by huge bitey mosquitoes you'll know that they swell up to look like crazy hobbit feet.  Crazy hobbit feet!  With the amount of bugs that have just flown through the door I figure if they all take a nibble then I'll essentially be reduced to one big swelling.  And that's not cool.  Having witnessed the crazy hobbit feet my colleagues reassure me that although these are big mosquito type creatures they're not the biting variety.  I figure they probably know best but we still reach for the bug spray.  The bugs are literally crawling everywhere.  They're on the ceilings, the walls, the computers.  Everywhere.  We get some spray action going and it's not long before the beasties start to drop.  In the end we have big mosquito type creatures all over the floor.  Yuck.  I've never seen anything like it and then the first day of spring and wham!  Bugs everywhere.  So spring has well and truly sprung.  Looks like it's time for me to whip out the bug repellent!

Little Stalky's Adventures at Alton Towers

Did you know that Little Stalkys don't like theme park rides.  Not one bit.  Yet I've been to Alton Towers twice.  For those of you who don't know, Alton Towers is one of the biggest theme parks in England and is host to many terrifying rides.  Now I'm not scared of heights, I'm not scared I'm going to fall out of the roller coaster, I'm not scared the roller coaster is going to break down, I just hate the flip flop feeling in my stomach when I'm sent hurtling around a track.  So, my first trip to Alton Towers was a few years back and I figured I could go on some of the smaller rides and see what I thought.  Mystical Roo and Monster Noggin seemed determined to get me on Nemesis but I knew that was never going to happen.  Instead we arrived and they decided to get me to go on Air, a roller coaster where your legs dangle below you.  A roller coaster with loops.  I eyed this roller coaster with a suspicious gaze before looking trustingly at my companions.  First ride of the day.  We'll ease you into it.  This ride is boring really.  Yeah, it's so slow that we just talk all the way round.  In fact, it's just a great way to see the park.  It's like you're gently gliding above the trees.  What a fool I was to ever trust!  I should have trusted my instincts instead, as I stood in line for that dreadful ride.  People are screaming, people are going in circles.  Surely this can't be good.  I remember waiting for our turn as the carriage pulled in, looking at Monster Noggin and Mystical Roo who smiled encouragingly.  The harness clamped down over my shoulders and it was only then, when the chairs started to tip forward so that I was face down to the ground that I realised this was a bad idea.  A really bad idea.  I've broken out into a cold sweat just writing this.  I try to block out my memories after that moment.  I have vague recollections of dizziness and horror as the roller coaster whizzed around, up and down.  I know I was screaming.  I know Mystical Roo and Monster Noggin were laughing.  I'm fairly sure they've regained feeling in their hands now but my nails were digging in rather deep.  I got off that ride with a wobbly sensation and vowed never to do it again.  Gentle glide over the park my ass.  Honestly!  So our next adventure was on the swinging pirate ship.  How bad can it be?  It's just like a giant swing.  Look, there are small children on there and they're smiling.  Ok.  So, we get on the pirate ship.  Sit at the back as apparently this is the best place to be.  It starts swinging.  I start screaming.  In fact, I remember having to force myself to stop screaming because the aforementioned small children were turning around to see what all the fuss was about.  I went foetal at that point and practically slithered off the seat as I tried to crawl underneath Mystical Roo.  I'm fairly sure I had a tear in my eye as I willed that damned boat to stop swinging.  I should have known better, what with my seasickness and all.  A rocking boat?  What an excellent idea.  After that I decided I was best off carrying bags and eating sweets.  Both of which I think I did rather well.  After that day I discovered that the only ride I really enjoyed was the river rapids.  Just the right amount of thrill for a Little Stalky and no seasickness!  So the next time I went to Alton Towers I was happy to carry bags, eat sweets and take rides on the river rapids.  And this time I had Duke to keep me company.  The only problem was...the toes.  A week or so earlier I'd had a lovely operation to remove ingrowing toenails on my big toes, was bandaged up and under strict instructions NOT to get them wet.  So I'm wandering around Alton Towers in flip flops (or thongs if you're Australian) with two bandaged toes sticking out and the only ride I want to go on is the one that's guaranteed to get them wet.  Yet somehow I reason that they won't.  We're inside the boat after all and I'm not going to fall in the water.  How wet can they get?  Very wet apparently.  Big whoops.  After a boogie on the dance machine in the arcade Duke has to find me the first aid shed as my bandages are starting to unravel.  Bad, bad Stalky.  We find a nurse who kindly re bandages my toes for me and we leave the shed wondering how we can get back on the ride without getting the bandages wet again.  Perhaps we should have just left it but we had a mission and were determined to find a solution!  We ended up in a gift shop and decided to purchase some rather fetching plastic ponchos.  These would surely protect us from the splashes of the rapids.  Yes, but what about the toes.  And then an ingenious solution.  Why not wear bags over my feet?  In fact look, lets ask the sales assistant if we can please have two plastic bags.  The sales assistant obliges and I have two bright red plastic bags to wear on either foot.  But how to fix them in place?  Sellotape?  String?  Staples?  Hmm.  And then we realise Mystical Roo has left us with a pair of socks.  Why?  I simply cannot remember.  All I know is those socks were put to most excellent use.  So, bag on foot and then sock over the top of bag and voila!  You have a crazy look.  We headed back to the river rapids and received numerous amused glances.  I was wearing a colourful plastic poncho, no shoes and over sized socks from which peeps of red plastic bags were poking out of.  Who says I put fashion before practical!  As ridiculous as I looked it solved the problem and my bandages stayed dry the whole time.  Duke and I spent the rest of the afternoon going round and round the rapids in matching ponchos.  Most excellent!

Little Stalky: Freaked Out or Freak?

I wear rubber gloves when washing up for three reasons.  One.  I like to protect my hands from going all wrinkly and stuff.  Two.  I can have the water very hot, which I figure must be better for killing germs and what not.  Three.  I'm seriously freaked out by things that float around in the water.  I do NOT want anything in there touching my hand.  Eugh, eugh, eugh!  Mystical Roo finds this laughable but I don't care.  My hands are not going in the sink unless they have rubber glove protection.  On a grander scale, I'm talking about the ocean here, I don't like it when things brush against my legs.  Seaweed being the main culprit.  That stuff just sneaks up on you and wraps it's slimy tendrils about your person.  Not cool seaweed!  Not cool.  No one likes to be snuck up on.  I think I'm still traumatised from our trip to Tobago where a crab nipped my foot.  That's scarred me for life.  Now I can't go in the sea without waiting for something to grab me from the depths below.  Bloody crabs.  I'm also freaked out by loose hairs.  I don't care about hair that's actually attached to a person or a thing but hairs without a home?  Run away!  This is why I have to obsessively hoover the bathroom floor because I hate seeing random hairs stuck to the tiles.  Yuck.  And the weirdest thing about this weird weirdness?  It's mostly my hair that I end up hoovering.  And still it freaks me out.  I also have a thing about the feel of paper against my teeth.  Now you might ask, Little Stalky, why are you eating paper?  But I'm talking about tearing open a paper wrapper with your teeth, or shoving an envelope in your mouth because your hands are full.  The feel of paper against teeth is for me like someone scraping their fingernails down a chalk board.  It literally sends shivers down my spine.  Other things that freak me out are frogs, fish, fish with legs and that advert with the scary dancing babies...Ok now I've shared my crazy with you all, I'm off to do the dishes.  With my gloves on! 

Little Stalky Investigates Random and Unidentified Noises

Today I was sat in the house on my own when I heard a random and unidentified noise.  A kind of beep beepity beep.  I sat up like a meerkat and looked around to try establish where the mysterious noise was coming from.  I could think of nothing that made such a noise.  I was mildly intrigued but not enough to bother to actually interrupt what I was doing.  So I continued to read my book and then a few minutes later it comes again.  Beep beepity beep.  What the hell?  I'm not worried as I don't think this beep beepity beep can belong to anything that devious.  I've got the remote controls in my sights and the washing machine has been out of action for a while now so I know nothing is sneaking up on me, but what is this random noise.  Back to the book and more reading but it's not long before the beep beepity beep is back beeping at me again.  What the heckity hell?  My curiosity gets the better of me and I start to search for the beep beepity beeper.  However, the beep beepity beep is not a continuous noise so I can't follow the sound.  I start rooting around my rucksack and find my phone blinking at me.  Low battery.  Beep beepity beep.  Well honestly.  Why didn't you say so.  My poor phone.  It must feel very unloved by me sometimes.  I retrieved my sleepy phone from the bag and gave it some juice.  That soon stopped the damn beep beepity beep.  I honestly had no idea that my phone made such noises.  Maybe it was frustrated with me and so found it's voice.  At least the beep beepity beep was a normal noise.  I've come across other random and unidentified noise that has put me into full on super Stalky ninja mode.  I was in the bathroom a few weeks ago and I was convinced there was someone in the house.  This led to much ear pressing to the door and hushed breathing.  I was debating whether I should wait in the bathroom until Mystical Roo returned before realising that maybe the someone in the house was Mystical Roo.  But should I call out?  Hmm.  In the end I became bored of lurking in the bathroom and ventured out into the hallway.  It turns out there was no one in the house.  It was just the wind.  That damned wind again.  When I was younger me and El Kenco came home and thought we heard someone upstairs.  It was actually just creaky floor boards or something but still, we were fairly sure something weird was going on so proceeded to head upstairs with a roasting fork.  As you do.  I seem to be very suspicious of random and unidentified noises.  I'm not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing.  I suppose the washing machine was a noisy beast and I was right to be suspicious about that!   

Little Stalky Smells Fish

I was chatting to Mystical Roo and Monster Noggin about going to the gym and I started remembering various embarrassing Little Stalky moments.  The type of moments that still make you cringe, even many years down the line.  Like flying off the back of a treadmill and landing on your face.  The worst thing about that was it was through my own complete stupidity that I ended up taking a nose dive.  When preparing to take a break from the treadmill whilst it's still moving at full speed, be sure to remove both feet at the same time.  Don't take one off and leave the other on.  Because if one foot goes shimmying to the end of the treadmill, you can be sure that the rest of your body will try to follow.  Not cool.  But this is not the incident I was thinking about.  This incident started with dinner.  Back in England, the night before the gym session in question, Mystical Roo was cooking dinner.  It was a smoked mackerel I think but that doesn't really matter.  All you need to know is that fish stunk.  Really stunk.  And my pre-packed gym bag (I'm organised like that you see), coat and scarf were sat just outside the kitchen door in the hallway.  When you cook and eat stinky fish it isn't always obvious how stinky it is until the next day because you kind of become used to the smell.  I didn't realise how stinky it was until when I was sat at work with my gym bag under my desk and even then I didn't click what it was.  I remember sitting behind the computer and wondering who was eating fish for dinner.  Then it occurred to me that this fish eater was eating fish at a peculiar time of day.  When the fish smell continued to linger it still didn't occur to me that I could be responsible.  I spent a whole day at work with my stinky gym bag, which had absorbed all the fish smell from the previous night's dinner and I had no idea it was me.  God knows what my colleagues must have thought.  That maybe I was unclean?  Or had a fish stashed somewhere for mysterious and possibly sinister reasons.  Why didn't someone tell me the fish smell was lurking around me!  Dude, you smell like fish, or something along those lines would have done the job.  I guess everyone's too polite.  Anyway, I spent the day with my fish smell before heading upstairs to the gym.  I changed into my tracksuit and stuff but wasn't really paying much attention before I entered the gym.  I went straight to the cross trainer, casting a mistrusting gaze at the treadmill and hopped on.  Only then did it click.  Then, surrounded by fellow gym goers and in a small space.  Then I realised that the fish smell was me.  I was smelly fish girl!  Oh the shame.  The smell seems to grow with every move I make and I can feel eyes glancing in my direction.  As everything falls into place I want to protest and explain.  I want to prove that I'm not unclean.  It was the fish!  The dinner from last night!  I'm not unhygienic.  And then what to do next.  The longer I stay, the more I will inflict the fish smell on everyone.  But if I leap up and disappear after less than 2 minutes on the cross trainer, everyone will know that I know that they can smell the fish smell.  Maybe I could fake an injury or perhaps extreme lack of fitness.  A bad idea as this will possibly result in another nose dive.  In the end I can't take the fish smell anymore and I bolt.  But with dignity.  Slowly and with my head held high.  Yes, I smell of fish.  I'm fish girl.  But I'm leaving now and we shall discuss it no more.  I returned home that night and informed Mystical Roo we would never be having that fish dish again.