The Renaissance of Food

I'm sitting on my sofa, having just eaten far too much Green & Black's 70% cocoa dark chocolate, and I'm watching Nigella cook chocolate melty pot things on the tv. I love Nigella. She's fat, she eats far too much, but she's as happy as a pig in shit. And my love for her is growing by the second...

Today I realised that I have a slight problem. I've taken this losing weight thing to a whole new level of obsessiveness - very unlike me... I went to the pub for lunch, ordered a pizza, a healthy pizza, which would probably have been completely allowed in my diet plan, but I ate one piece and stopped. Half way through my piece of pizza I had the sudden thought that everybody was watching me eat. I assumed that thoughts of me and my pizza, and the rapidity with which I must surely be gorging on it, were flying through my friend's heads, and every one of them was most definitely thinking, "That Bazza - she is a fucking fat pig. Look at her stuff her fat face with that pizza. Fat cow."

So I stopped eating the pizza; even though I was hungry I'd managed to make myself not hungry by thinking these things. Then I was in a shit mood, depressed, miserable, feeling fat.

That's just not right! Wouldn't you agree? Fucking abnormal.

But to my benefit, I have some good friends who helped me to see what I've accomplished so far. So, with the knowledge that a) I look great, b) I'm not fat, and c) I should be proud of myself, I will sit back and watch Nigella - taking notes to ensure that I too can eat shit loads of amazing food, but still be happy.

And now I'll shut the hell up about food and dieting and challenges, because I feel that I'm becoming slightly obsessed... slightly more obsessed.

The Proverbial Towel

Last night I threw an almighty tanty, shortly before getting in my car, driving to the supermarket, and buying a whole chicken. After eating two legs and two wings, I felt a bit sick, and realised that I can't do it anymore.

I don't particularly want to lose any more weight, so all this food deprivation is just fucking stupid. I'm sick of walking into starbucks, seeing a muffin, wanting the muffin, but having to say no even though I've lost 18kg so far and should be totally proud of myself, and should treat myself.

I told my trainer this morning that I can't cope - that I need to eat like a normal person - that I need to say yes to the drinks invitations and stop being a boring fuckwit. And she told me to go to Hog's Breath, order a massive steak, curly fries, and bacon, and don't stop eating until it feels like my eyes are gonna pop out.

So today, my friends, I am going to eat pie. I don't care what kind of pie - bacon pie would be ideal, but any pie will do. I'm hoping that a feast of pie will help me to complete the rest of the 12 week challenge, maybe lose a little more weight, a bit of body fat, and generally help me to not go insane.

I fear that my colleagues think I've actually lost it. I have already thrown a tanty since being in the office this morning... so yes. Pie is needed. Bring on the pie.

The end...

Does anyone remember my post "Where have rd, th and st gone?" - well, I'm sorry to say that I have to report yet ANOTHER defilement of the great language that we call English.

I sent a document to a client, who shall remain nameless, which included a schedule of dates for a campaign. His job was to sign it and send it back to me. That's all - just sign... and send back. Simple? Apparently not. Apparently he was UNABLE to do just this, and he felt a compulsion to go in and ALTER my spreadsheet.

That's right folks - somebody in this world has the balls to assume that their data entry is superior to mine. FOOLS. What, I hear you ask, did he alter...? The DATE FORMAT.

He changed all of the dates, in MY spreadsheet, to the AMERICAN date format.

(For example: instead of the correct 23/08/07 it was changed to the incorrect 08/23/07)

It's a perfect example of the degradation we are witnessing every day - the decline of our language into the pits of Americanisms. Readers, this is a sad, sad day for the English Language. Made even sadder by the fact that he turned the spreadsheet into a PDF so I can't go in and change it back. Fucker.

Lazy.

I don't know how many of you are aware of this, but I thought I'd just talk a little about my job. Particularly, the severe ease with which I do my job. Now, this isn't me bragging about my superb ability to do my job, it's purely the fact that my job is so frickin easy.

My average day consists of this:
8:30 - 10:00: Check emails, chat to colleagues, get coffee, read news online.
10:00 - 12:00: Read work emails, spend roughly 15 minutes calling clients, analyse possibility of hitting targets.
12:00 - 13:00: Lunch.
13:00 - 15:00: Email friends, discuss evening plans with colleagues, Facebook, Blog.
15:00: Start packing up and thinking about going home, before finally sneaking out of the door.

You see, it's the lamest attempt at a working day I've ever heard of. My question is, am I now destined to stay in this job for the rest of all time, purely because I've become so lazy that this is how I expect a working day to go? Or will my laziness eventually bite me on the arse and find me out of a job altogether?

I've been discussing this with colleagues (between the hours of 8:30 and 10:00) and they run their working day on a similar schedule. So, it's not just me. But who started it? Is this laziness contagious, and have I inadvertently infected my colleagues with this affliction? Technically, the person who's been here the longest (Roy) probably infected the rest of us with his laziness. Can I blame him?

Fuck it - let's blame Roy for our laziness. In fact, let's blame him for ALL the laziness we encounter collectively around the world.

Not Reading List

At the request of an anonymous person, I am re-visiting my reading list to discover just how dedicated and committed I am. The answer is, not very.

I started my reading quest with possibly the most difficult of all books ever written. The Dark Tower series by Stephen King started off beautifully: Books 1, 2 and 3 were easy to read, and quite addictive. Unfortunately, Stephen King appears to have suffered some kind of injection of boring when it came to writing Books 4, 5, 6 and most likely, 7. I have actually been turned off reading all together and fear that my ability to pick up a book anywhere, anytime, has left me.

So, in the spirit of not achieving what I set out to do, I shall now change the subject and talk about my weekend.

I spent my weekend in Bellingen, NSW. This town is small, leafy, quiet, and a little bit backwards. The perfect place to send your retiring father - minimal trouble can be caused, and minimal noise can be heard from my position of safety, 5.5 hours drive north. Now, while I did enjoy the lovely scenery, the cows, the smell of cow shit; I have to say that I feel I might actually be allergic to the countryside.

It only took 24 hours of breathing in the 'fresh country air' before my lungs gave out and I had an asthma attack. Now, that's just not right. I tried to immerse myself in the village community, and went to the pub in search of some people to chat to; I found a group of old men watching the football, which thought it highly amusing to tease me for 'talking slow like a Queenslander' - despite my protestations of actually being brought up in NSW.

So, I ended my weekend with a realisation that once you've lived in QLD for more than 1 year, you can't live anywhere else, or even visit anywhere else - but that also, you don't WANT to go anywhere else. So, I'll be sticking to QLD - I am officially a Queenslander.

New Year's Resolutions - Checking In

At this time of year, when I start to remember that it will soon be over, and I'll shortly be turning a whole year older, I like to look back at what I've not done, and really REALLY drive home the fact that I'm a lazy bastard. So, let's take a look at my Resolutions, as published on this blog, to see if I'm even close to achieving them.

"Resolution 1) Be more positive, and nicer to people. This one relates to not trying to run people over on pedestrian crossings, and not dreaming up ways to destroy Amnesty International and their infernal attempts at increasing the world's population."

Unfortunately, I have not achieved this one - yet. I've actually had more 'accidents' with pedestrian crossings this year, than any year before. As to the Amnesty International hatred, well that's still firmly entrenched I'm afraid. I don't think that's ever going to go away, and why should it? Damn them and their constant attempts to save the human race...

"Resolution 2) Go to the gym. This one WILL work - my personal trainer says so, and I'm paying her to say that so if she's wrong, I'll be sueing her tight little arse."

Well, she wasn't wrong - she was right. So does that mean that technically SHE achieved my resolution? Or was it me? Either way, I can give this one a big fat tick.

"Resolution 3) Stop talking about being a writer, and get on with actually doing it. Ooooh I'm achieving this one already! But no - I will be attempting to sign up on a course. At some kind of evening class institution - very unlike me, but that's the point."

Ummm - no. The most I've done is write my blog. My lord I was an optimistic fool in January. Sign up to an evening class - pah! What a crock of shit.

So, one out of three is ... quite bad. But I don't care. I jumped out of a plane for christ's sake. And oooh! I can use that as an excuse for almost anything! Bazza - have you written that presentation yet? No - I jumped out of a plane. Bazza - are you still in some dodgy Media Sales job? Yes - but I jumped out of a plane.

Brilliant.

Holy Crap!

I JUMPED OUT OF A PLANE!!

No... wait. It's better than that...

I HUNG OFF THE WING OF A PLANE AT 3500 FEET AND THEN LET GO!!!!

Oh yes I did!! I am totally pumped - it's unbelievable. I've got a bruise the size of Singapore on my right wrist, and I feel ever so slightly sick at the thought of what I just did, but it was the most holymotherofgodexciting thing I've ever ever done.

Now, I got it all on film, and I have the DVD in my possession. I've watched it twice already. And I'm going to find someone, somewhere, that can show me how to put the video on the web. I have a feeling it's got something to do with Real Player or something... ANYWAY - my point is that you will soon be able to witness my jump for yourself!!!

I was originally going to do a tandem skydive, but then the man told me that there's more chance of things going wrong with a tandem, and that a Static Line Jump gives you more control and it's way more exhilarating. So, because I'm a glutton for punishment, I went for the Static Line.

I think I might have actually passed out for about 2 seconds, just after I let go of the plane... not sure. Maybe my brain was so overloaded that it just had to shut down for a second or two. I remember climbing out onto the platform under the wing, then hanging onto the wing, and swinging out, and I was just hanging above a 3500 foot drop, and I was thinking, "Holy shit I can't let go but I've got to." Then the only thing that made me let go was gut wrenching loss of my personal preservation instinct. I just thought: "Bazza - let go of the plane. You may die, but at least you'll have done it wearing the coolest white boiler suit and a red stackhat."

I had to do a crash landing cos I lost all the strength in my arms and couldn't pull the brakes on the parachute, but I didn't get hurt cos they trained me how to do it. And then I was just rolling around in a field of little yellow flowers pissing myself laughing! Ha.

I can't believe I've done it. Right now I feel like I could do absolutely anything! So, to avoid doing absolutely anything, I'm having an early night.

Maybe it's me...?

So what determines a person waking up in a shitful mood? Is there really a possibility that at some point in the night I was bitten on the arse by the grumpy fairy...? Could it be that simple? I can find no other way of explaining how I feel right now.

Yesterday I was on top of the world, and finished off my day of joy by watching a very gruesome, angry, violent movie which sent me to sleep in a haze of happiness. So, what happened in between then, my haze of happiness, and now, my cloud of doom...?

Maybe it was Colin miaowing outside my door, wondering why I wasn't up with the sunset as usual, at roughly 5:30 this morning. Are there kitty calendars that I could purchase, so I can point out to him; "Look Colin, it's Saturday tomorrow. So, how about you sleep in, cos mummy will be." How convenient.

Or perhaps it was the dream I had last night - I won't go into details, for fear of exposing the identity of a certain someone, but it wasn't pleasant. Maybe this dream was exposing inherent fears that I haven't discarded yet - perhaps I'm not completely over this guy? Or perhaps it's the realisation that this is going to be a long old process, and I was naive for thinking that it would only take a week to get rid of the hopeful misery that was my life last weekend.

Alternatively, it's possible that my first thought of the morning, after "Colin shut the fuck up miaowing at my door", is indicative of my fowl mood at present. That was, I remembered what I'm doing tomorrow. The Skydive. Yes, I had a flashing image of my own death, plummeting from the sky at god-awful speeds strapped to the front of some incompetent man with his life in my hands. It's not a pleasant thought - especially when followed by a brief flashing of my life before my eyes and a shock realisation that although I'd be physically strapped to another person, I would effectively be dying alone.

Hmmm, have I made my mood worse? Maybe. And yep, I've got exactly 1.5 hours to kill before my weigh-in for the 12 week challenge this morning, and I can't eat anything or drink too much for fear of adding on weight prior to the scales... Oh! There we have it folks! The source of my bad mood appears to be the disruption of my usual Saturday morning routine of muesli and coffee in front of Rage followed by a stint at the gym with my ipod. Damn - I forget how entrenched I am in a routine. I should really make more effort to adhere to it at all costs. And to think I was beginning to blame myself...

Evolution

You may remember my post, titled 'Big Girl', where I was complaining about a recent decision, and the rejection that ensued. Well, I think I've realised what my problem was.

You see, I have never really allowed myself to feel anything but a slight warming to a human of the male variety. That warming was usually displayed in manners of the flesh, and all emotion was void. This time, however, I somehow managed to allow that affection to surface - and it shocked the shit out of me, and sent me into a spiral of crap that has only recently blown over.

So, that much we know - now moving forward, I have learnt that I really should just be congratulating myself on a job well done. I now know that I am capable of feeling something more than the physical side of men, and I will use this power to venture onwards into what will hopefully be a happy, and not completely single, life.

I feel grateful for the person in mind, for allowing me the opportunity to utilise my feelings, and now I'm happy for the relationship to evolve. The decision has been made, the relationship has evolved, and after pushing all things sexual to the side, maybe it will turn into something better than it was - a friendship.

This may seem a bit deep; it doesn't happen too often on this blog; but I feel that I've now become a better person. (In a purely selfish way, of course.)

Where have rd, th and st gone?

I'm thinking I can blame the American's for this one, but I'll have a good think about it first. So, where exactly have the suffixes rd, th and st gone? Shall I put this into context? Ok:

Person A: Hey there, how ya doing? What are you doing on Saturday?
Person B: Hey I'm good thanks! Saturday - hmmm, let me think... What date is that?
Person A: Um, I think it's September 15.
Person B: You mean, September 15th...?
Person A: That's what I said - September 15.

NO - that is NOT what you said, Person A - you clearly neglected to put the 'th' on the end of your '15' - it's unforgivable god damn you!!

Seriously - it's everywhere. My colleagues do it (Roy is the worst offender), my boss does it, people in the street do it, and crucially, people on the NEWS are doing it. Oh yes - this shocking misuse of the english language has infiltrated our airwaves and infected our homes. I'm near certain that it's the American's who started it with their September 11 malarky, and we, the gullible and easily led race that we are, have taken it on board.

But, the thing is, I refuse to believe that we are that easily changed - surely there must have been someone somewhere who said, "Ok people, let's save ourselves a few milliseconds here and there and leave the rd, th and st off our dates. Ok? From....NOW." I missed this announcement, and even if I had have witnessed it, I'd have complained outrageously.

You see, it doesn't sound nice. It doesn't save time in the grand scheme of things. And, most importantly, IT MAKES YOU SOUND AMERICAN. Who in their right mind would want to affiliate themselves with a race of people so fucking lazy that they've taken the u out of colour, and the u out of glamourous (and then go and put it in a song (fergie) where they actually spell it out for all the world to see that they're fucking stupid).

I fear that all is lost. I've tried to carry on with my rd, th and st, but to no avail. People actually look at me funny, as if I'M the one who's fucked about with the suffixes. I don't know what to do about it. Maybe a petition? Maybe a letter to someone?

God damn it - I just need to know that we're not turning into Americans!! Help me... please...

Yes, you protest too much.

I think I've finally reached saturation point with protesters. I'm not limiting my anger to any group in particular - just people who protest in an organised fashion. Let's take, for example, the people who protested against the war in Iraq.

I remember being at Uni in London at the time, and there was a major protest planned, and of course the students were getting riled up and excited about the prospect of appearing to know what they're talking about outside of their chosen discipline. The protest was starting outside my accommodation - opposite the University of London Union were roughly 10 million people, all waving flags and banners about war, oil, bush etc. I chose not to participate - my reasoning was that a bunch of people waving and shouting about things that they don't have an empirical knowledge of, and therefore can't possibly comment on, was going to be a complete waste of time and resources, and most importantly, would not stop the world leaders from going to war, because they'd already decided that they would.

It turns out that I was right. Funny that.

I remember the abuse I got from fellow students, assuming that I was pro war just because I wasn't marching against it. Well I'd like to say something now; fuck you fuckers - who looks like a complete prick now? Hmmm? Who? YOU - THAT'S WHO. All you fucking idiots that protested against it and convinced yourselves that you were 'making a difference' and 'making your voices heard' - you were wasting your time. Nobody listened to you then, and nobody's going to listen to you now.

So, if you're planning a protest, or thinking about joining in on one, have a good, long, hard think about it. Personally, I'd suggest that if you want to 'make a difference' in this world, the only viable way of doing so is to a) grow a brain that's at least 1/4 functionable, b) read up on whatever it is you're looking to protest about so that (and here's a foreign concept for you) you actually know what you're talking about, and c) get a degree in politics, somehow get into politics, and get a job as prime minister and stop wasting the time of the normal people in this world who realise that as a human being who doesn't sit in office, you just have to learn that nobody gives a shit what you think about anything.

Big Girl

Every now and then, as humans, we inevitably do something which fucks everything else up. For example, let's say you have an uncontrollable urge to tell someone that you're thinking a certain thing - the telling of this thing isn't necessarily that bad, or wrong in any way, but for some reason the whole world turns to shit once the words have left your mouth.

I recently let my guts fall out of my mouth - quite literally - to a very important special friend of mine. Yes, I had inadvertently turned into a big fucking girl, and felt the need to tell all. Since this event, the following things have happened:

I felt astoundingly rejected.
I felt decidedly angry.
I realised it was all my fault.
I cried for 24 hours.

Now, it's not all doom and gloom. Although I know it's going to take a while for the tears to completely subside, and for the uttered feelings to go away, (perhaps they'll never go away completely), but at least I am now in the position where there is some positivity on the horizon.

Yes, I will survive. I will eventually stop blaming myself. I will move ..... on .... perhaps. Urgh.

In the meantime, I'll be spending a stupid amount of time in the gym (2 hours of intense cardio this morning. woo.) and spending the rest of the time NOT under my doona weeping quietly to myself.

The Course... concluded.

I have now finished the Course of High Impact Improvement, and I am now a person with high impact.

Yes, those who pass me in the street will now fall back with amazement at my sheer presence. I laud over my passers by, I look down on thee, I allow thee to worship me, I am Improved.

The extent of my improvement has led me to question previous assumptions - such as the relevance and purpose of lollipops. I asked for a lollipop, and I got said lollipop, but did I need the lollipop?? No, my followers, no.

My taste for lollipops has matured with my sense of impact. Now that I am a better person, and can effectively gain whatever I want within a blink of an eye, I feel that I don't need anything. I am possibly, completely fulfilled. And the addition of lollipops to my life, outside of my usual sweets, seems wholly unnecessary. I appear to have lost my sweet tooth, and am happy with my lot. Much like the child who fills their pockets with candy when the shop owner's not looking, runs from the store to eat their bounty, only to find that after a few delicacies they really don't need anything more than the original lolly - it's sugary sweetness and precious perfection is totally acceptable and adequate in its truest, finest and most singular form.

I am fulfilled, in the world of lollipops, I am satisfied with my sugary stash, and I don't need anything more than the knowledge that I have, in fact, found true enlightenment.

Feel my satisfaction - share my fulfillment - bathe in my impact...

The Course... again...

I am proud to present to you, oh avid reader, the wholly improved and perpetually sustained, Bazza.

That's right, I'm on another course. Some of you may remember the epic journey of The Course; when I was sent on a journey of inexplicable proportions to the land of the south and the world of self improvement. Well, apparently I have not been improved enough, and have been sent on another course, with the view to emerging a completely better person.

That's right folks, I am now on a Course of High Impact Improvement. Going one step better than the course of Life Improvement, this course aims to develop your skills so much so that you're constantly finding yourself in a position of authority and control, over every situation of social interactivity. I am half way through the course, and already I'm finding that my skills of persuasion are at an all time high. I merely have to suggest something in a very subtle manner, and my wish is granted.

You see, the majority of this course is all about presenting something to people, and persuading them to do something. So, for example, let's say that you wanted something. Um, maybe, a lollipop. Let's say that you REALLY want the lollipop, you know that it's presently out of your reach, and you need to put something into action in order to obtain said lollipop for your own private purposes. Ordinarily, I'd have scooted around the issue, and maybe alluded to the fact that at some point in my life I would quite like to have that lollipop, but after my course of High Impact Improvement I know exactly what to do. And yes, I asked for that lollipop, and I got that lollipop. Simply put, I can now get whatever the hell I want.

I am enlightened, I feel improved, I feel greedy. I feel like now I will never feel neglected or without again. I am fulfilled... to a point. I wait, with baited breath, to find out what I could possibly learn tomorrow, on the second day of the course...