Hmmmmm...

New career in cold-call telemarketing?

I. Should. Never. Watch. Infomercials... Ever.

Wednesday night I was up until 4am. Why? I hear you cry. One word. Info-fucking-mercials. Ok, so maybe that's two words.

I told myself I was studying. I was supposed to be studying. But really? Watchin' the damn infomercials.

They lure me in every. time.

THAT night I bought:

Because apparently I couldn't get shampoo at Coles...

But in the past I have been sucked in by:

Tried it. Lasted 3 weeks.

There's only so much canned tuna you can eat. Next...!

Uhh Huh... See above comment.

Without this I look like Shrek.

Ok, these I use daily. 

They make your boobs look like a uni-boob but they are so damn comfortable!

Used it once... 

I do have it prominently displayed so that when people visit I can look down my nose at them and say, "Sure. I use it every day... Don't you?"

This is actually pretty cool. I have steamed everything.

Anyone else got anything for sale? A crudely put together PowerPoint presentation is apparently all you need to lure me in. Free trial? Love it. Only pay for postage? Sign me up!

I suck at impulse control.

I'm sorry? This is your beezwax, how exactly?

 

The past three hours of my time has been used-up preparing, editing and re-editing, honing and perfecting this post. I. am. exhausted. I'm also fairly confident it will offend some people. Sue me.

So here goes..

I have just spent what seems like the better part of today AGAIN defending my decision to write about my daughter on this blog.

Seriously guys? What ever happened to the old saying, "People in glass houses, shouldn't throw stones."

What is it about me that makes people think that it's ok for them to not only judge me, but feel that it's ok to TELL ME WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO BRING UP MY CHILD??? She's happy. She's healthy. She's a normal teenager. She does shitty things. She gets into trouble. So do your kids. She is also a wonderful person. 

I. did. that. 

I make sure she is happy and safe every day, so it stands to reason that I'm not going to do anything to hurt her. Yes I write about her. Yes I include her real name. But you know what? So do other mums! I don't include our Surname. I don't include identifying landmarks. Facebook does. So does Twitter. So does YouTube and Tumblr and Instagram. By including LBS  or what we all know as GPS mapping in their posts, everyone knows EXACTLY where you are.

I. don't. do. that.

So to those people I say simply:

The choice to include Tomika in my blog was deliberate and not made lightly. I am not the first parent to write about their children online, and I will definitely not be the last

To quote another mother/blogger, who also writes about her kids:

"Here’s the thing. There are people more important and more famous than us who’s entire lives are photographed and tracked. We know their kids’ names, we know where they live, we know where they vacation, etc.

Are we taking risks by allowing people to see our children on the internet? Yes. How great are the risks? I don’t know. Are there freaks out there? Yes and they scare the crap out of me. But are we taking those same risks when I take my kids ANYWHERE in public? Yes. There will always be creeps. I refuse to live in fear of them." - Mama's losin' It!

I have questioned and questioned and questioned my decision. And upon endless reflection, I am ok with it.

Now, if you have come here to judge, my suggestion is thus: Move on. Nothing to see here. Click on the back button, or whatever brought you here and visit elsewhere.

You will not like this blog. We are not a match made in heaven, and I can guarantee we will both be happier not crossing paths again.

I will write about whatever I deem appropriate, and nothing you say will change that. I am sorry if you find that offensive, but I recommend you save your typing fingers and maybe comment on a blog you DO enjoy.

I will also not turn this blog into a soapbox for people to debate whether or not exposing MY child to the internet is a good idea. This is not a Democracy. You do not get a vote.

I will, however, take your concerns into consideration, and I genuinely thank you for expressing them.

However, ultimately I think it's best that we go our own separate ways, and never the twain shall meet.

Thank you.

(You can see some of Mama Kat's other blogging tips here. Including the top tip on internet safety)

Procrastination.

I'm supposed to be studying.

I'm aimlessly web surfing.

I'm not looking for anything in particular.

I'm not sick.

I'm not hungry.

I'm not bored.

I'm procrastinating.

Sue me.

Internet woes. i.e. I'd like to use a lifeline please Eddie.

You would think with the amount of internet providers you can choose from these days I would be able to find just one that wants my business, right? Wrong.

In the past week, I have tried to sign up with three different providers, only to be told AFTER going through the entire. signup. process. that they don't have coverage in my area. One of them even went so far as to actually connect my phone, set up my internet account and deduct $238.00 from my bank in preparation of the signup, only to disconnect me 4 days later. Without telling me. How does THAT work?

Comes with free connection. And dis-connection.

"Ummm, Ms Befuddled? Thanks for your money but we've decided that we don't want to give you internet after all. Oh also, we're not going to tell you. Instead, to save money we're going to think it at you really hard and hope that you get the message telepathically."

Grrr... Don't they have some sort of pre-checking process that enables them to click a button and tell me up front whether they service my area? I mean, the sheer amount of different types of internet connections are confusing enough. They should be all begging me to sign with them and I should be all like, "No thanks, I'll try the next guy. He's cheaper." And they should be all like, "But we'll give you a puppy." And I'd be all like, "Nice try, I'm a cat person."

"We're so sorry Ms Befuddled, we don't provide internet in your area. The moon is unfortunately out of our coverage zone. We can, however, offer you a great deal on a satellite phone."

Seriously WTF?

Hungry or Bored?

Dear Brain,

Please learn to tell the difference between hungry and bored.

Sincerely,
Fat Ass

Crunchy Nut Cornflakes in a Zippy bag.

Let me ask a hypothetical question...

IS

MY

GIRL

GORGEOUS

OR

WHAT?

Apparently I have nothing better to blog about...

This is another post about a cat. Sue me.

Actually it's about my other cat. The girl. The boy is normally the freaky-weird one who does crazy stuff.

But lately my girl has taken to eating the strangest things. Strawberry yoghurt. Potatoes. Vegemite toast.

Tonight she topped the list with the best one yet.

Yep. She's eating tomato soup.

???

Feline Frustrations...

 My cat is an idiot.

I have a glass sliding door in my bedroom and he has gotten into this habit lately where he scratches on it in the middle of the night wanting to go out. There is an open window 5 metres away, but still he scratches on the door. Every. Night.

So I wake up. I get up. Out of my nice warm bed. Out from under my soft fluffy doona. Into the freezing cold night. I turn on the light. I open the door.

And he bolts. The other way. Away from the open door. Into the house. Under my bed.

So I shut the door. I turn off the light. I go back to my nice warm bed. I get under my soft fluffy doona. I curl up on my side. I close my eyes.

And the cat scratches madly on the door.

So I get up. Out of my warm bed. Out from under my doona. Into the freezing cold night. I turn on the light. I open the door.

And he bolts. Away from the door. Under the bed.

So I shut the door. Turn off the light. Get back into bed. Snuggle under my doona. I curl up. I close my eyes.

And the cat scratches desperately on the door.

I fly out of bed, throwing the doona off me in a frenzy, tangling myself in the sheets and tripping over myself as I jab wildly at the light switch causing the light to flicker disorientingly. Lurching towards the door, I sway uncontrollably, almost falling on my face as I yank it open. The cat freaks, fleeing towards the bed but, thinking I'm clever I anticipate that, tripping over him in my haste to get to the bed before he disappears under it again. He proves he is cleverer and eludes me by faking left, then going right and vanishing beneath. I. lose. my. shit. Swearing loudly, I grab the nearest God-knows-what and start jabbing blindly under my bed, attacking the dust and shoes and odd bits of crap like a crazy person, chopping and swinging and making a complete ass-hat out of myself. Exhausted and totally out-witted, I stop, put down my weapon, take a few deep breaths and look under the bed. The cat is staring back at me innocently, licking himself.

I go and close the door. I turn off the flickering light and trudge back to bed. I collapse on the mattress and roll on my side. I snuggle deep under the covers and close my eyes. I calm my racing pulse and relax.

The cat scratches on the door.


The cat is not an idiot.

I am.

Cat. Not an idiot. Apparently.

Wordless Wednesday - I have NO words for this...

Wordless Wednesday brought to you by the lovely ladies at
5 Minutes For Mum. Thanks ladies!

THE CAT IS PLOTTING TO KILL ME!

Seriously. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

Every time I try to walk somewhere, he flies across in front of me at warp speed like an absolute mental. I have tripped over the bloody thing so many times, I'm surprised neither of us has broken a limb.

And it's not like he's a small cat either. If he was just this tiny ball of fluff, I could just kick move him out of the way and keep going. But no... He's a bloody great beanbag with eyes. If I ever do fall over him properly, I'm going down like a sack of potato's. I'm going to end up killing either myself, him, or both of us.

I'm convinced that as soon as he does it, and I trip (and he WAITS for me to stumble... he. pauses. for. just. a. second.), he goes off to wherever it is that happy cats go, HappyCatLand or something, sniggers to himself, and plots the next fly-by. He thinks it's hilarious.

It's NOT funny. It's a sinister plot to get me down to his level so that he can disable me and TAKE OVER THE WORLD!

Grrr!!!

Bloody cat.

Wordless Wednesday - Bad Hair Day!

He He!
 

Wordless Wednesday brought to you by the lovely ladies at
5 Minutes For Mum. Thanks ladies!