Monday, 14 October 2013

A Post About Nothing

I Must Confess I have nothing to say. Absolutely nothing. Just so we're clear, I repeat: NOTHING.

Well, nothing interesting, anyway.

But that's never stopped me before.  So, in keeping with the Seinfeldian theme of this blog, I bring to you a rather riveting post about nothing. You're welcome.

I'm sure you're all bursting to know what is going on in the dim, dark recesses of my mind. It is well known that I am extremely deep, enigmatic and introspective. Always brooding, ruminating and contemplating the very important issues in life such as:

Why did Karen Carpenter have to pass at 32?

Why can't I have my cake? And eat it too?

What can I have for dinner? Especially when that pesky old Dinner Fairy refuses to show her luminous face. Hmph.

Why is Gilbert Blythe a fictional character? And why couldn't he love ME not Anne?! I have red hair!

In addition to such pressing issues, I am also constantly wondering why exactly is it SUCH a herculean task to keep a house consisting of approximately 7 rooms anything even remotely resembling clean or tidy? Therein may lay the answer....

If I am really being my usual happy, sunny, perky, cheerful, positive self - and we all know that's always the way I roll - there may be a few other things I would pause to pointlessly ponder over, such as:

Why am I so shy?

Why am I so introverted?

Why do I have Ass Burgers?

Why do I have dizziness/middle ear or some fictional thing I made up according to some specialists?

Why do I keep asking pointless questions?

I have been dutifully trotting off to see my counsellor. She gave me some information regarding an Adult Asperger's Support Group which was not terribly far from Boganville.  Therefore, I did not have an excuse to procrastinate about going to one anymore. But I did anyway. I put off making the call until after the school holidays. Finally, I pressed in the number. A robotic voice informed me: No one is available to take your call! Please leave a message after the tone. So I left one, tripping over my words and feeling foolish as I did so. That was nearly a week ago. Nobody has called back.

Meanwhile, I had an appointment scheduled with  my counsellor which was confirmed with a phone call from the centre. Half an hour later somebody else called back and said my counsellor isn't doing counselling anymore and would I like to make an appointment with somebody else?  This is annoying when you're a shy, introverted Aspie. Having to start over with a  new counsellor. Sighing, I agreed but she said she would have to ring back with an appointment time. That was days ago. Nobody has rang me back.

I suppose that means I have to go to the tremendous effort of ringing them again. If I get the machine again, I should leave a huffy. indignant message. Except I won't. Because I'm too nice. GAH.

Why can't I be a BITCH?  I went for a whole two paragraphs without a pointless question so I had to slide another one in. Shut up.

In other extremely fascinating news, I need to buy a new vacuum cleaner. I am going to get one on Thursday or Friday. This will probably be the most exciting thing I do all week. I was perusing the Bogan Box last night and thinking that it resembled a brothel until I realised that I have no idea what brothels actually look like. They're most likely MUCH cleaner than my house. I mean, just think about it. If you were going to have kinky, illicit sex you'd want to be doing that shit on freshly laundered sheets, right?

In the midst of all this excitement I managed to win Slapdash Mama Sarah's Blogaversary Competition! I've never won anything so this was quite thrilling indeed. She wrote a lovely poem about me or actually about Boganville I think, which was quite charming and you can read it here. Thanks Sarah!

Of course this leads me to another confession. In writing this poem, Slapdash somehow managed to 'out' me and reveal my darkest secret.

You may be shocked to discover that I am not really a bogan despite my Boganville address. GASP.

Oh okay, I outed myself in the comments (and every other week here in my own space, when I bang on about The Carpenters). Minor detail. Anyway, since I've really got nothing else to write about except the same old boring as batshit bogan shtick, I think we can all just overlook that and go with it, right? Besides, whether I'm really a bogan or not is debatable. I live in bogan territory and that alone is enough for some folk. So ner. Added to the fact that I write gibberish with dubious attention to grammar and phrases like so ner. So ner. NER NER NER NER!!

THIS turned up in my Facebook feed the other day.

 To the person who posted it, it worked. I am, quite frankly annoyed that nobody is with me on this cancel Christmas thing. It will be your own fault when you feel like poking your own eyeballs out from hearing Mariah Carey wailing about what she wants for Christmas for the billionth time. You've been warned.

Another thing that has been bothering me of late is the fact that I suddenly  remembered that a few months ago a lovely blogger presented me with one of those Leibster Awards or some such thing. Anyway, because I perpetually have my head lodged firmly up my posterior and I'm SUCH a space cadet I have forgotten who that lovely person was and not responded. So, whoever you were THANKYOU. It's not you, it's me, okay?

And that brings me limping to the end of this pointless post about nothing. Stay tuned for the next post when I'll actually blog about SOMETHING. Or nothing again. You never know. Ahem.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

'                                      Should  I really ask another pointless question? Oh look, I did!

Thursday, 3 October 2013

An Open Letter To 2013

Dear 2013,

First of all, four words.


Okay, that was five words. I have more.

It seems like only yesterday that I welcomed you whole heartedly with my usual quiet night in wild, crazy party, eagerly anticipating everything that you would bring. As fireworks exploded in a frenzy outside (nothing to do with NYE, just a typical night in Boganville) I mapped out an exciting year filled with amazing experiences, opportunities and achievements.

There I was, picturing myself six months down the track, slim, sleek and superior having succeeded in sticking to that major health kick/diet/fitness extravaganza we all aspire to on January 1st. This was the year. It was all happening. No excuses. After all, I was turning 42 and I would finally know the answer to The Meaning Of Life. It's 42, right?

Therefore, I was poised to possess all the wisdom of the ages come January 15, 2013 when my 42nd birthday rolled around. Wrong.

Instead, I remained as clueless as ever. By August I all I had achieved was high cholesterol and blood sugar levels. Classy.

Additionally I was certain that 2013 would see us finally living in that McMansion in Boganville Heights but we remain firmly ensconced in the Bogan Box like happy little sardines. Or not so little sardines in my case. Ahem.

Apparently it already October. That cannot be right. That means that Christmas is around the corner despite my frantic efforts to officially cancel it for this year. Nobody seems to be taking any notice and I'm afraid that the next time I venture to the shops there will be tinsel everywhere and Mariah Carey warbling about all she wants for Christmas. MAKE IT STOP!

I mean, for goodness sake, 2013, couldn't you have just let the Autumn months linger for a bit longer this year? The leaves are all pretty, it's sunny through the day and cool enough at night to sleep which is a win/win situation for everyone. But now we're heading into Summer which means not only will it be Christmas but also frightfully hot and we can't have that or I'll whinge just like I whinge when it's too cold. At least I'm a consistent whinger. That's something.

I simply can't understand why, when there is so much technology these days that nobody has found a way to stop time. Seriously, 2013 you are just moving along frightfully, awfully, alarmingly, shockingly, astonishingly, amazingly and any other word you can bung 'ly' on the end of, fast.

Yes, I am well aware that an abundance of adverbs is the sure sign of a lazy, novice writer but I've never pretended to be anything else, have I? So ner. I'm going with it.

Furthermore, I had envisioned 2013 as the year when I would finally be able to write one of those smug, posturing end of year Christmas type posts/letters bragging about how completely fabulous, marvellous, stupendous, momentous and any other word you can bung 'ous' on the end of, the year had been for us.

Instead you will be stuck with my usual self-deprecating drivel. You're welcome.

Frankly it's all your fault, 2013. You have left me NO TIME to achieve anything. Okay, so I've had a whole ten months. Or nine months and 3 days. Minor detail. Ahem.

There is only approximately 80 something days until Christmas and in that time I have SO MUCH happening. Mr 4 becomes Mr 5 in a month's time and begins Kindergarten orientation. Right after he 'graduates' from pre-school. When did that start happening? Four and five year olds graduating complete with cap and gown?

I could have sworn he was only a baby five minutes ago. In addition to this, Mr 12 will be heading off to High School in 2014. While my heart will burst with pride, at the same time it's all a bit disconcerting that they are growing up so quickly and I just need to hit the pause button for a while. It's making my head spin.

At this rate they will all be grown up and become young men and I'm not ready. What on Earth will I blog or tweet about without my little men? I might have to actually get a life! Scary.

When I was a little girl 2013 seemed so far away and futuristic, now it's nearly over. I was certain somebody would have invented a time machine by now. Sigh.

I know you won't listen, 2013. You will be done and dusted practically before I finish typing. My head will spin right off my shoulders and I will spend months trying to catch up, still writing 2013 when it's 2014 just so you can continue to mock me. You win.

I'm off to try to frantically do ALL THE THINGS in less than three months. You have forced me to think about Christmas shopping in October. Who does that? Intelligent, organised people, you say? See? You're already mocking me. It's Mocktober. In fact, I've decided I'm over you, 2013. Bring on 2014.

2014 will be sensible and crawl along at a snails pace, right? Or I'll just start the whole mess over again...*sobs*

 Yours Regretfully,


Linking up with Robo for The Lounge.

                                 Are you getting into the Christmas spirit? Or is 2013 spinning out of
                                                                 control for you?