Smashy days are here again

MFC and I would like to move in together soon and we have been looking for places to rent. 

I found a place that looked OK; a little old, but within budget, and called the property manager up on Wednesday morning to find out more details.

WHAT A FREAKING MORON. 

We haven't had an an9ie SMASH encounter for a while, so you regular readers will be happy.

The twisty-turvy conversation we had not only made me late for class, but also increased my blood pressure by about seven million units. Let me re-enact the whole hilarious episode for you.

Ring-ring. Preliminary hellos and introductions and then I start to ask questions.

an9ie: I'm just calling about the property at XX Street. Is it still available?

Property manager dingbat (PM): Oh sure, we had a couple come through last night, but you can have a look at it. 

an9ie: O ... K. Can I ask some questions about the property? 

PM: Sure, go ahead.

an9ie: Does it have ADSL?

PM: (Long pause.) Ooh, I've never heard of that before. What is it?

an9ie: (You have got to be freakin' kidding me.) High speed internet.

PM: Wait, I'll just go and ask someone. (Longer pause.) I don't know, but the couple who were in there last were pretty old, so probably not.

an9ie: (Must ... not ... kill.) Well, is there a garden shed out the back for storage?

PM: There's a single lockup garage.

an9ie: (That was NOT an answer to my question.) So is there a garden shed?

PM: I don't know. I don't think so.

an9ie: (This is too hard. We're just going to have to find these things out ourselves.) Well, my partner and I both work full-time, so do you think we could come and see it around 6pm sometime this week?

PM: No, we don't have after-hours inspections.

an9ie: (Right, that's it, lady. I am going to hunt you down and make you into my next winter hat.) But you said you had a couple come through "last night"!

PM: Oh, that was at 4.30.

an9ie: (You think that 4.30pm is night time? Were your parents brother and sister?) What about the weekend?

PM: We don't do weekend inspections.

an9ie: (Is there anything you DO do, apart from waste precious oxygen?) OK, um, let me talk to my  partner and we'll try to arrange a time.

PM: OK.

an9ie: OK. B-

... and the beyatch hangs up on me without waiting for me to finish! GRAAAAAH. an9ie SMASH.

Six reasons to move interstate

We went to the airport last night to pick up my uncle, who was on his way home after visiting his children in Melbourne.

They told us his flight arrived at 11pm.

The arrivals board told us the plane was due at 11.40pm.

There were delays and it landed at 12.05am instead.

Oh, and then they had to wait for the flight to Sydney to leave, so the gate would be clear for the plane to dock. It was 1AM by the time the passengers left the plane. I could hear the airport parking fees ringing up in my head, ka-ching! Ka-ching!

I would have been irate but then he handed me a box with this logo on it:


and the following contents:


My aunt bought them for us in Melbourne. For some reason Krispy Kreme thinks Perth is unworthy of its fried goods, and there is a growing trade in over-the-border doughnuts as people beg and bribe relatives and friends to bring them back from the eastern states.

We cut each one into eighths, and they tasted as good as they look.

I think I'll go treat myself to another wedge now.

Introducing...

Mr Toki Wartooth Bun-bun (name reached by consensus after hours of negotiation).

I'm a bit shy at first ...

... but curiosity soon gets the better of me.

Model sheet. Side view. Heehee. Sorry, that was an animation joke.

Front view.

Mr Toki Wartooth Bun-bun is on top of the laundry bench in these pictures. I don't know how he gets up there, but he's usually sitting on the washing machine or behind the clothes baskets when we come in to say hello.

Such a handsome fellow with his sleek black coat. There is a tiny white stripe on his nose and faint white socks on each paw. 

MFC is going to do a little drive-around in his area on the weekend to look for "Lost Rabbit" signs, but he's kinda hoping he won't find any :)

Rabbits!

Two Sundays ago, MFC and I were driving back to his place when something black and shiny streaked past the car. MFC hit the brakes and missed it by a few inches.

It was a shiny black colour so we didn't think it was a wild, brown rabbit (the usual culprits around here who like playing chicken with your car). We hopped out of the car and went looking for the mystery creature (secretly hoping it was a puppy), but couldn't see or hear anything, so we continued up the driveway and forgot about it.

Tonight MFC was on his way home when the black thing streaked past his car again. He stopped and looked in the bushes, and found a little black rabbit! It didn't run away into a hole, but hopped around in a wishy-washy "I don't mind if I get caught" way. It only took a few minutes for MFC to swoop own on it and carry it back to the house. So it looks like the little guy could be someone's pet that has escaped (or been dumped).

MFC called me after he'd settled the rabbit in the laundry with some water and a jumper to lie on. Apparently it's a little thin and has some healed scabs from being attacked, but apart from that, is pretty healthy. It's also quite friendly and doesn't mind being picked up (unlike that demon, Mao. "Hand-reared" my ARSE, you stupid pet shop!)

MFC: We should think of a name for him.

an9ie: Him? How do you know it's a boy?

MFC: Because when I chased him, he grunted, and then squirted pee at me.

an9ie: LOL!

an9ie: Maybe we can call him Bun-bun!

MFC: I was thinking of something a little more grown-up.

an9ie: MR Bun-bun?

MFC: Something that doesn't sound like a three-year-old thought of it.

Time for a hearing test

My mother pops her head into my room and says:

"Angie, would you like some semen sponge cake?"

an9ie: WHAT?!? (Walks into kitchen.) I really hope you said, "cement sponge cake". (Looks suspiciously at baked goods on plate.)

Mum: CINNAMON! CIN-NA-MON SPONGE CAKE!

Time to shift some pounds

Yes, I know we're on the metric system in Australia, but "pounds" just flows better in a sentence. (I also like to use terms that help my American readers feel at home. Hi guys!)

You know how in the Nancy Drew books they always, ALWAYS describe poor Bess as "plumply pretty" and George as "athletic" or "tom-boyish"?

Well, I'm a Bess who desperately wants to be a George. I saw a video of myself at the zoo (we could have all sorts of fun with that one, so I'll just let you use your imaginations) and the camera really does add 20 pounds. So plump an9ie here looks like she could paint herself grey and then creep into the elephant enclosure, and no one would notice.

If we had no cameras, there would be more happy women in the world.

I think I'm going to join a religion that forbids people from taking my picture, because they might capture my soul.

Take that, technology!

An evening with the Candyman

So MFC and I watched Candyman last night. We were pretty excited for most of the movie because we thought Gillian Anderson was playing the lead character (Helen Lyle).

Eventually, we found out that Helen was played by Virginia Madsen, who looks uncannily like Gillian Anderson. Perhaps not so much now, but in Candyman, wow, they could be twins.

We didn't discover this fact until the end credits, and kept saying things like, "She looks different in X-Files. Has she had a nose job since then?" and, "OMG! We're seeing Scully's boobies!" (Well, that's what I was saying. MFC just kept going, "Mmm ...")

This is what happens when you do not pay attention to the DVD cover.

It took a bit of cajoling from MFC before I agreed to watch the movie with him. As you all know, I have something of a love-hate relationship with horror. I love reading it (and sometimes, watching it, or at least reading the spoilers over at themoviespoiler.com--warning! This site is addictive!) but I am unable to withstand the mental trauma that my imagination doles out later.

I mean, I was doing so well, falling asleep with the lights off, and not worrying about ceiling demons or vampires in the back yard or serial killers in the front yard or soul-eaters in the mirror.

an9ie: Fine, I will watch Candyman with you. But you have to promise not to scare me before or after the movie.

MFC: Sure.

an9ie: I mean it. No creepy whispers, no waiting outside the toilet door and making scratching noises, and no hiding behind the corner waiting to jump out at me.

MFC: Deal.

(4 minutes later ...)

Eerie whisper: Aaaaangie ... What's that noise, Angie? Ooh, it's getting louuuuuder.

an9ie: YOU COULDN'T HOLD IT FOR FIVE MINUTES, COULD YOU?

Philip Glass composed the soundtrack for Candyman, and the man is a master of suspense. I am such a sucker for those quiet moments where the character (and you) are just minding their own business, and then BAM, something scary happens. And the music is such a huge part of that.

So most of the evening involved me providing a lot of entertainment for MFC, and ended up sounding like this:

(Silence and then - BAAH, someone pokes their head through the window.)

an9ie: AAARRGH!

MFC: *snort*

(Scene continues, and then - BAAH, something else happens with loud clashing music.)

an9ie: EEEE!

MFC: Hahaha!

an9ie: (Clutching heart area) My chest hurts.

MFC: Hehehe.


Update (Tuesday, April 7th): OK, so I managed to fall asleep with the light on last night, but then I woke up at 5am for no reason and kept thinking Candyman was standing in front of my bed, so I had to have my interrogation-strength reading lamp on until dawn broke. GAH.

An update

Sorry I've been so quiet on the personal blog front, guys.

On the plus side, I've been very busy over at my professional site. It is a little animation and art-centric, but you might find something there you like, no?

We had a creativity class yesterday, where we had to work in changing teams and 1) think of a story from scratch, 2) given a specific character, think of three different stories with that character in it and no one else, 3) given a set of random words, tell a story on the spot using those words, 4) make up a character (mine was a doggie) and a story using only a sock and a balloon, then 5) use that character to interact with other characters, and 6) given a specific product, think of a way to sell that product to a new market.

This was meant to show and teach us the following:

• We will frequently be asked to create things on the spot, and given no guidelines.
• We will often work within limited parameters, like client preferences and set budgets.
• New ways of thinking up ideas, using word association, or by mixing up different random elements and forcing ourselves to use these elements.
• How working in a group leads to creating ideas, characters, stories, that you would never have thought up by yourself.
• That anyone can think of next year's trend, simply by looking at this year's. To stay ahead of the crowd, you have to think about what's going to be needed/wanted in a future beyond that - five, or ten years from now.
  
• That you will often be required to think of a new way to sell something old/existing.
  

Some of my classmates found it difficult, but I loved it! My adrenalin was up and truly (warning! Warning! Overused cliché approaching!), I have never felt more alive. I was a junkie, high and hooked on creating new ideas, thinking on my feet, and bouncing these ideas around within a group. (I seem to do my best work under pressure.)

I never wanted it to end, and all the little stories we came up with held such a seed of promise that I wanted to make them all into short films! I will admit that I can be bossy, and I may have railroaded some of my teams into picking my idea. (Hmm, perhaps I should work on curbing that ...)

In a nutshell--I had a great day. This is the life for me!

Funny because it's true

MFC and I are walking down Oxford Street in Leederville with his mother and her partner.

an9ie: And down that street is the little sushi restaurant where [MFC] and I went on our first date.

an9ie: We might even go back there one day and re-live it.

MFC's mummy: Aw, how cute!

an9ie: Except this time he'll actually be nice to me. Ahahahahaaa!

MFC: Hey!

Stupid brain! Why can't you send me nice dreams about unicorns instead?

This morning I turned off my alarm and snoozed for about 45 minutes. During that snooze I had a horribly vivid dream.

I was driving through a suburb in the hills, past a block of flats, and just for a moment, I looked over at the passenger seat and tried to pull a yellow plastic bag towards me. The bag was caught under something and diverted my attention from the road in front of me.

Then I felt my wheels go over something rigid, like a light pole or a long bit of pipe. Bump-bump.

I stopped the car and parked to the side. When I turned my head I saw a figure splayed out on the road.

I had run over a small Chinese schoolboy.

I raced towards him at the same time as his aunt and mother. They were wailing and sobbing, and my lungs clenched as I looked down at his crushed leg, flattened and bruised against the bitumen like an uncooked chicken wing*.

What had I done? I had destroyed his life and mine. My future flashed before my eyes and immediately blanked out. There would be no bright future for me or him.

His mother looked up and me and started shouting. More and more people gathered, either staring at me, or the boy, who was taking shallow breaths and had his eyes closed.

This horrific tableau seemed to go on forever, and then, I don't know, maybe a siren went off in the background, or a crow cawed, or the sun hit my eyes in just the right spot, and I woke up.

I have never, EVER been so happy to drag myself out of bed in the morning.

The message is very clear: avoid the Perth hills like the plague.

* Come to think of it, the rest of him was untouched apart from his leg. And people don't just lie on the pavement with one leg sticking out onto the road. Hmm, suspicious ...