Showing posts with label Shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shopping. Show all posts

Monday, 2 April 2018

Foods I Dislike

Most weeks I schlep out to the shops with my parents to have coffee and do a bit of shopping. On one such occasion, we were unpacking groceries into the boot of my parents car. We heaved bag after bag until there was no more room. 

"Christ, we must EAT!' my mother remarked. I laughed and agreed. My life is a non-stop round of food food FOOD.

Thinking about what food to buy, buying the food, putting it away. Preparing the food, cooking the food, serving the food. Then doing this all over again infinitum. As much as I love food, it can get a bit repetitive and dreary at times.

I know, I know. First world problems, for sure. I am certainly grateful for the abundance of food available to me.  That I never have to go hungry.

Luckily, there are not too many foods I dislike. I was rather more picky as a child. This was the result of being thoroughly spoiled by my mum's superb culinary ability. I swear she could have been Margaret Fulton or someone, only BETTER.  As a child,I turned my freckled nose up at the inferior offerings others presented me with.

Store bought cakes or apple pie? Poison.

Chunky hearty soups? Yuck.

Tinned spaghetti? The HORROR.

If only such an attitude had persisted into adulthood. I'd be svelte and smug instead of plump and sheepish. These days I'll pretty much eat anything that isn't nailed down. And let's be real, probably try to prise off anything that IS nailed down.

Well, ALMOST anything. There are a select few foods that even this glutton isn't too thunderstruck about.

Such as:


Stringy, bland, chewy and just plain BLAH, celery must be one of the most joyless foods nature provided. Naturally, celery is good for you. Low in calories, packed with anti-oxidants, and supposedly, calming for the nervous system. So the internet tells me, anyway. Must be true, right. 😉

In short, a healthy snack option.  A shame I'd rather snack on my own toe nails. I CAN eat it disguised in a stir-fry, soup or coleslaw, but it's still not my favourite. As for munching on a stalk for the sake of it  - it's a definite NO from me.


Often teamed with the above celery is this delectable delight. Except it isn't. Delectable, that is. Or delightful in any way whatsoever. I'm not going to describe what it reminds me of. You can probably guess. In a bid to be healthy, I foolishly purchased a tub of this chunder. Oops, I said it...

It's now languishing in the fridge. I need to chuck it out NOW instead of avoiding the inevitable. Why do torture myself?


I just don't like them. They're too... fishy...

Surprisingly, I quite like canned tuna, and even salmon. But sardines make me shudder. And just to make it worse, you can also buy them swimming in tomato sauce. Bleerrrggghhh.

Maybe I just haven't tried fresh ones. I don't know. But for now, it's not just a no. It's a HELL, NO!


These little fart balls from hell are no doubt packed with nutrition. I don't care. Put them in front of me and I will pout and refuse to eat them with the sheer determination laced with disgust of your average three year old.

Nope, nope, nopity NOPE.



I must admit I have a bizarre love/hate relationship with this staple of good old-fashioned Aussie hamburgers. Once in a blue moon I crave and covet some beetroot with the intensity I usually reserve for cakies. Then, just as quickly, it absolutely revolts me. I cannot even bear to look at it, swimming in a sea of it's own crimson blood in a container in the fridge. Inevitably, the container ends up spilling and resembling  a murder scene, and I'm left wondering why I bothered indulging my short lived craving.


More farty goodness. Don't get me wrong, a good old baked bean jaffle with cheese can be just the thing on a bleak winter's day when you feel like pretending  it's still 1978. Just me?

Then, inexplicably, it's just NOT.  Baked beans are another love/hate kind of thing for me. Sometimes they hit the spot. Other times they hit the garbage can. Fast. 

There you have it. The foods I dislike. 

There are probably others, but why waste time and energy on them when there's cake and chocolate in the world. That's what I say.

What about you?

What foods do you dislike?

Monday, 15 February 2016

What's In My Handbag plus Shopping SUCKS

My TITS are in my handbag. That got your attention, didn't it? Okay, not my tits exactly, but my pretty pink Ipod that my brilliant imaginary friends Posski and Randa gave me was christened TITS. Perfect.

This is all leading up to today's confession, which is, most surprisingly:

What is in your handbag right now?

Allow me to tell you:

TITS (aka pink Ipod)
A purse. Sadly one that doesn't contain much cold, hard cash. Sigh
A book.
A tattered Fill-In. They're sort of like a lazy person's crossword, because they give you the answers and you fill them in in the right spots corresponding with each other. 
My adult colouring-in book.
My pencil case with pencils, pens and textas. (See above).
My lip balm. 

Normally I might have a brush, but I don't need those right now. I'm baldy. HAWT.  I now have a small collection of large handbags and a large collection of lovely hats. Awesome. 

That's about it. These items are essential for my long, boring chemo treatments and copious waiting in doctor's waiting rooms for appointments. This is pretty much my life right now.

Nothing much to report there except I had Cycle 3 of chemo last Wednesday and so far it's treating me kindly. Furthermore, I am nearly finished!!! Hallelujah! One more Cycle on the 24th and I'm DONE! 

Of course, then I will get my genetic test results back and find out what the next step is.  I am only very slightly petrified about this. Gulps.

So in order to keep my mind occupied I've been doing some of the afore-mentioned things in my handbag, reading, fill-ins etc. Additionally I've written some very dodgy poems. I won't share all of them with you (you're welcome), but this one made me giggle. I hope you do, too. 

Here goes:

SHOPPING SUCKS: A touching poem 

By Yours Truly

Shopping and cooking are a mystery to me
Yet often I drool over a recipe I see
Optimistically I set off, finding myself here at the shop
Where I frantically search for the list I forgot

It's laying at home, mocking and derisive
For even IT knows I am never decisive
Then I ponder and think, what items did I jot?
Do you think I remember? No! I cannot! 

Do I need coffee? Do I need tea?
What is the difference between camenbert and brie?
I know I need milk, but don't know what kind
We all prefer different types, you will find

The boys prefer THEIR milk to be fully-leaded
But the way that my dodgy cholesterol is headed
I am resigned to the boring old skim
Mickey Blue Eyes? It's 'light' milk for him! 

Of course I'll buy bread, but definitely NO CAKE!
Why? Because we all know I'll eat it, for goodness sake!
Did I need plain or self-raising flour?
I become more annoyed and perplexed by the hour

 I heave my clunky trolley through the brightly lit aisles
Wondering if other folk suffer all these trials
Up aisle one, down aisle two, three and four
My head is aching and my feet are so sore
Coles FM is droning on, I can't take it anymore! 

If I have to endure 'easy listening' for so long
PLEASE at least play a Carpenters song!
Then suddenly, while overwhelmed by choice
I DO blissfully hear that unrecognisable voice

Unperturbed, along I start singing
Impervious to the peeved looks I am bringing
I'm the weird woman who croons as she lingers
For slightly too long near the Birds Eye Fish Fingers

Abruptly I snap out of my Karen reverie
Feeling foolish, all eyes are following me
I must hurry up, get straight back to my task
Finish the shopping , get out of here FAST! 

There are three ravenous boys, all of whom I must feed
Even if they refuse the five serves of veggies they need
It has to be done, so on I endeavour
This is fun! RIGHT. Said no one, EVER!

Then a family reunion is starting to thrive
Conveniently clogging up most of aisle five
How will ever get out of here alive?
But I must keep going, so onwards I strive

Alas, it seems that even this isn't enough
It's just not my day. I must have no luck!
I spot some one I know, there in full sight!
An introvert's awkward and most irksome plight

I stop in dismay, watching like a hawk
Petrified I'll be cornered into difficult small talk
But when I turn to make my escape
Again I have made the most ghastly mistake

What else can go wrong? Yes, I know, I know! 
But it's torture for me in the confectionery row!
Mars Bars seem to tease me before my very eyes
As if they too know they would head straight to my thighs

Then ALL the chocolates join in and chant their evil chorus
Buy us! Eat us! Buy us! Eat us, Ness! You know you just adore us!
I'm forced to flee from the lane of all things yummy
The last thing I need is a bigger, rounder tummy

Leaving the chocolate's taunting refrain
I then reach the aisle of my ultimate shame
Yes, for me cleaning products cause genuine pain
Gumption, Ajax, mops and Pledge-Grab-Its
Remind me of all of my slovenly habits

These items will transform me into a Domestic Goddess!
Just buy us! We're brilliant! They insincerely promise.
Besides I'm aware that all you need is bleach
But how do you stand the smell, I will beg and beseech? 

Weary and bewildered, I randomly fill my trolley
A very impractical and most unwitting folly
I have had quite enough, I just can't pretend
It's time to bring this shopping thing limping to it's end

I trudge to the front in order to pay
But why is there only one cashier open today?
Once in line, the cashier is quite chatty
The endless yakking instead of packing is driving me batty

Then of course comes the inevitable price check
Isn't this all just a big pain in the neck?
Eventually my load is all finally scanned through
Then comes the terrible thing I must do

I reach for my purse and feel my hand quiver
As I hand over copious cash, a kidney, a liver
Arriving home, I unpack my all my food
And briefly relax my jittery mood

I'm pleased and relieved I've completed my feat
Then the boys arrive home and with these words they greet:

MUM, THERE'S NOTHING HERE TO EAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Do you enjoy shopping?

What's in your handbag right now? 

Monday, 9 March 2015



I’ve never been good at making decisions. Sometimes I find myself agonising over the simplest of things.  Deciding what to have on a sandwich becomes this epic debate in my mind, fraught with fear and self-doubt. Should I have tuna or cheese and tomato? Perhaps a good old-fashioned curried egg and lettuce would suffice? Then again, there is left-over chicken in the fridge!  There are just too many choices!

Plus, what if it my sandwich filling choice just doesn’t delight my taste buds on that particular day? I’ve already consumed the calories! What a disaster! See? I knew I would choose the wrong thing! 

This probably explains why cheese and tomato sandwiches were my staple diet for many years. It eliminated the decision making progress to opt for the same thing time after time. If I really wanted to be totally wild and crazy I might mix it up by having toasted cheese and tomato. I’ve always been cutting edge.

This cutting edge tendency is probably apparent in my choice of attire. Boring, bland and predominantly black sums it up. Therefore, the amount of time I spend ruminating and pondering over what to wear is patently ridiculous. Who cares what I wear?  As long as I’m covered and clean that’s all that matters.

This doesn’t stop me from wasting an inordinate amount of time fussing over my outfit. It seems that I must be under some sort of grand illusion that I’m a celebrity about to be hounded by the paparazzi each time I leave the house. It’s as if I’m making the important choice of whether to wear the Prada or Gucci instead of the Best & Less or Big W. Often, I mix it  up and team Big W garments with Best & Less ones because, you know, that cutting edge thing again. And do you know what? Except for all the times I’ve been mistaken for Nicole Kidman*, this hounding by the paparazzi hasn’t happened yet! 

Don’t even get me started on grocery shopping. It’s the stuff of nightmares for a scatterbrain like me. So many aisles, so many decisions! I do take lists but still get confused once I’m in the supermarket and all those rows upon rows of choices are around me. Suddenly, things appear in my trolley that weren’t on the list. Of course they are always organic kale and herbal tea, not chocolate or cakies.  No way.

I mean, do you know how long I’d spend agonising over whether to get the Maltesers or Mars Bars? It just seems easier to get both. Ahem. Except that these days I’m on Weight Witches, so I just walk very fast past the confectionary aisle. Then I get to the check out and there they are, right in front me. Sigh. Life can be cruel sometimes.

Anyway, I spend so much time agonising over these mundane decisions it may have prevented me from making any reckless, life-changing decisions that I’ve come to regret. I’ve never taken illegal drugs, gambled away my life savings or robbed a bank.

Yes, there is an infamous mullet-perm in my past but a) it was the 80s, and b) it’s provided ample entertainment as fodder for this blog. So let’s give it another whirl.

I should regret this hairs style- but I won't. I know
you're laughing. You're welcome.

There is one mild regret lurking in my past. Rewind back to around 1992 or 1993. By this time I had ditched the mullet-perm for an attractive poodle perm. Like I said, I’ve always been cutting edge and classy. I was in my early 20s  and working at the State Library. Somehow, on my meagre pay I had managed to save a sizeable chunk of money. I was able to do this because I lived with my parents and didn’t have a car or a social life. This totally confirms my cutting edge status. Shut up.

In the back of my mind I had some hazy idea that I was saving the money to eventually buy a car or go overseas. There were two problems with this grand plan; a) I didn’t have a drivers’ license, and b) I didn’t have any friends to drag overseas with me. The idea of taking off on my own never occurred to me. I was still a tragic Mummy’s girl and ridiculously shy.

Luckily however, around this time I ended up joining Rootaract. Uh, I mean, Rotaract and thusly acquired something resembling a social life. Consequently, I met Mickey Blue Eyes.  My parents were in the process of planning a trip overseas to the UK. It crossed my mind that I had the cash to go with them. I quickly dismissed this thought as absurd. After all, mature, worldly, hip 22 year-old Mummy’s girls who lived at home and proudly owned an entire collection of Carpenters albums didn’t go overseas with their parents!  This would totally tarnish my now legendary cutting edge persona!
Case in point: The Carpenters were totally retro-cool in 1993! There was even an alternative tribute album recorded in their honour! This confirmed that I was ahead of the game and cooler than anyone gave me credit for. To my 22 year old mind I couldn’t risk the damage to my ultra-cool character. It would just be sad and pathetic to go away with my parents. Besides I would have to be parted from Mickey Blue Eyes for a whole month! We were still at that stage where we actually missed each other if we weren’t together every day.

Of course, 20 or so years later I’m wondering why this was even an issue. I see the  man all day, every day. Every. Single. Day. What was I thinking? A  month was a blip in the ocean in the scheme of things.

And the sad truth of the matter is, I would have enjoyed going overseas with my parents much more than going on some Contiki tour with a bunch of raucous, drunken twenty-somethings. Sad, but true.

So I guess what I’m saying is, if I could rewind back to 1993 I would have gone overseas with my parents. But it’s all good, because we’re currently in the process of obtaining our passports so I’m sure we’ll get there eventually. Except now we’ll have three lovely children to tag along just to make it extra special. This should be tremendous fun. I mean what could be worse: going overseas with your middle-aged parents when you’re young or waiting until you’re middle-aged and going with children? This is a totally rhetorical question, just in case you were trying to figure out the correct answer.

Oh well, I suppose I had better leave it there and go and decide what to have for lunch. After all, it could take a while.


 *OK, so I've never been mistaken for Nicole Kidman. But it could still happen! HMPH!

What decision would you change if you could?