...And Back to Reality.

This was my weekend.

And it was lovely.

I'm not a beachy sorta girl. I hate the sun (and the inevitable sunburn on my milky skin). I hate feeling like I'm trapped in an emery board. And the sticky, stinky salt everywhere.
But it was lovely. And I'm absolutely exhausted, so that's all for today. Big week starting tomorrow! Best to kick it off after getting a good night's sleep - but then a half-hour kip on the couch would still be better than last night's effort, sleeping on uneven ground in a sleeping bag full of sand (and a squirming Squirtle) in 3-degree weather.

(How's my photog skills, btw?! I'm very pleased with how some of my pics turned out. Will post more another day for your viewing pleasure.)

Things That Grind My Gears (Part One)

Private Facebook profiles.


Because how on Earth am I expected to snoop into your 'private' affairs when I have to first send you a friend request, thereby alerting you to the fact that I want to bother with you in the first place?

Erg, you shit me.

Bliss.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AQHv-fhHq9Y

There is something about this video that makes my heart fucking *swell*. Apart from the fact that Jared Leto (*sigh*) actually looks remarkably like a human in this one (is he... DANCING? Really?! Oh, he's even more dreamy than I had dreamed!), the pit footage is incredible.

This video takes me back to some of the happiest moments of my life - those carefree hours when you cease to be yourself, and instead become a tiny, insignificant cell in a living, breathing entity. I can smell the sweat. Feel the hair in my eyes. My whole body goes numb, I do not move on my own. It's like swimming. Are my feet touching the ground? Fuck knows, I'm numb from the knees down and the bruises from flying elbows will be a lasting reminder of this ecstasy.
I lose myself in the music, in the power that surrounds me and washes over me. One of the best feelings in the world can only be found in a moshpit. It's love, love that you can feel with every single sense you possess - the taste, the smell, the sound, the touch, the sight.

I missed out on seeing 30STM when they toured last month - they didn't come to Brisbane and no fucking way could I afford to go to Sydney, especially not after doing this at Lady Gaga in March (which was fucking unbelievable, by the way). I'm spewing that I won't be able to make it to Soundwave next year... fingers crossed they do some shows of their own and I might be able to catch them on an overnight trip (please?). It looks like they put on a fucking amazing show and I'd love to be a part of it.

I wish I could write more at the moment, but it's 1am, 8 degrees and my fingers are losing all sensation. I need a hot shower and some coconut oil... and some dreams of the hot, dirty mess of moshpits I've been in. Better than sex, you guys... seriously.

FUAF.

I despise being a woman.

A Case of the Mondays.

I do not have what most people would consider a 'real job'. But I go to bed every Sunday night dreading what's to come, and wishing that Mondays would just curl and up and fucking die.

Today is one of those days. There is no 'Hump Day' at Casa Glamourcide, but 'Slump Day' lurks menacingly over the end of the weekend striking fear into the hearts of those who would prefer Sundays (or even Saturdays, seeing as all the shops are closed on Sundays here) to stretch on forever, and it's almost a guarantee that the Boss, the Rugrats, and I all wake up thoroughly miserable.

I had to be roused from my slumber no less than four times this Monday morning, as stated in my previous post. My sunglasses have disappeared into the black hole that claimed my car keys some months back. My jeans are beyond filthy and therefore I had to bare-leg it in shorts, and it's overcast and chilly today. Munchkin was not impressed at being woken and not being permitted to watch cartoons as I needed to get her dressed for daycare. Squirt would have preferred to stay at daycare instead of coming shopping, so she had a yelling fit and bit my shoulder hard enough to draw blood.

Waaaahhhh. I do not like you, Monday, and I blame all of this morning's blahness on you.



However, it is not yet lunchtime, and things are slightly improving. I found the Boss's keycard in my wallet, and purchased a new lingerie washbag. Sunglasses were on sale at Just Jeans and I found a pair that is nearly identical to the ones I had stuck on my head just yesterday, but cannot find anywhere. And I just found out that a friend of mine is pregnant so I'm very excited for her and her partner and this new little baby's siblings.

In conclusion... Mondays are not always all bad.
This Monday isn't, anyway. I won't hold my breath for next week, though.

Hmph.

Things I fail at.

- Returning phone calls/emails promptly.
- Avoiding sugar.
- Keeping plants alive.
- Remembering to feed the dog on a daily basis.
- Handling physical exertion.
- Keeping my mouth shut.
- Housework.
- Resisting the urge to buy shoes when they're on sale. It doesn't even have to be a decent sale, and I don't have to like the shoes. They are shoes, and they are on sale, they must be purchased.
- Math.
- Getting out of bed in a timely fashion (the Boss woke me up no less than four times this morning. This is not an uncommon occurrence.)
- Standing by my parenting philosophies in the face of a Category 5 tantrum.
- Keeping promises that involve updating my blog. ;)

The Challenge.

Big, big trouble, Glamourduuuude. It's a good thing your spawn can actually scream for attention, because if they were as mute as your blog, they'd have starved to death long ago.
You selfish, selfish bitch.

So, I propose a challenge to myself. This one's a doozy.

ONE entry, EVERY day, for AT LEAST 30 days.

That's right - 30 whole entries (which I assure you right now, will consist of absolute nonsense, avoid at will!) by this time next month. No other rules, no set topics, just DO IT!

For the record, this entry doesn't count. So, I'm starting tomorrow - before I hit le sack tomorrow evening, I promise to have posted something, ANYTHING that I can dedicate at least half an hour to. Blogging is kind of like sex (if you're a nerd, obvs) - the more you have, the more you want. The less you bother, the less you want to bother. Get me? Good. Suggestions for future topics are more than welcome, hit me with your best shot (no, I will not EVER cover 80's music, except to say that it is terrible and I don't believe the world would be any worse off if all music from January 1980 to December 1989 were to for some reason be erased from existence and memory).