Category: getting silly

How (NOT) to pack a suitcase.

The countdown is on. In 3 sleeps (I count everything in ‘sleeps’ because I have a four year old and to be honest I am kind of immature when it comes to EXCITING THINGS anyhow), I am going to be on my way to Sydney for what has accidentally become my annual birthday getaway (this being only the second time)! I will be travelling with my parents (who practically live there anyway), sleeping on the fold out couch and shopping, socialising, drinking and eating.

Woohoo!

I am going for what will essentially be a long weekend. I can’t wait. It’s not long enough away that I start to feel guilty, but it’s long enough (and far enough away) that I can forget a bunch of responsibilities and just relax/have fun as an individual entity. YES!

This morning my mum called me and asked, “So, are you all packed for Sydney yet?”

And we laughed and laughed. Oh, how we laughed.

Because it’s me we’re talking about. I mean, come on. Packing is not my forte. I am neither organised nor timely.

It always works out in the end, though. Right? Kind of?

I thought I’d put together some tips so you too can be as awful at packing as I am…

Enjoy!

  1. Pack at the last minute. I mean it. Put it off for as long as you can. Become distracted by ‘life’. And by ‘life’, I mean the internet and agreeing to countless social interactions that steal away the time that you could be packing. I’m serious. Fill those little moments of ‘free’ time and pack them tight with other shit to do. Before you know it you’ll be packing in a panicked frenzy at some weird hour the night before. Because people in a panicked frenzy know how to GSD (Get Shit Done).
  2. Realise that you need to wash all of the clothes you might bring, because right now they’re just lying unwashed in your floordrobe (because domestic goddess – obvs). Pray that everything will dry before your flight leaves. Also pray that the mental list you’ve made of the stuff you’ve washed and need to pack won’t fail you when you’re in the aforementioned panicked frenzy.
  3. Put absolutely everything you could ever possibly need in your suitcase. I mean it. EVERYTHING. Umbrellas, raincoats, summer clothes, winter clothes, activewear, swimming gear, a beach towel, clothes you can wear when you feel fat, clothes you can wear when you’re feeling skinny, party dresses, 10 times more of the daggy underwear that you actually need because who knows what could happen (seriously – WTF), every pair of shoes. You get the idea. I mean, while you’re away you just never know. You might need that dress you haven’t even worn in 3 years.
  4. Take a few things out. At some point, you’ll realise you are being ridiculous and you’ll start to google the airline’s baggage weight limit. So you’ll take out a few things. You know, so you can close the suitcase. Sure, you’re only going for a weekend. But it’s always good to be prepared. Like I said; anything could happen! Remember NOT to leave room to bring home any stuff you buy while you’re away. That’s what the fucking unzippable suitcase expander is for, people. Keep up.
  5. Don’t ever nail the packing of your toiletries. Where’s the fun in that? The whole point of going away is so that you feel a sense of adventure and fun. If you replicate your exact toiletry products/routines from home, then you’re just not living. Try to get out of your comfort zone. Forget your razor so by the time you realise you have super hairy legs, it’s after hours in a city you haven’t been in for a while. Because you don’t have your own transport, you’ll need your parents (yes – you are a grown person) to drive you around in their rental car until you find what you need at a dodgy 7/11 kind of place. You could also mix things up a bit by packing two bottles of conditioner, instead of one shampoo bottle and one conditioner like a normal person. You should use the tiny bottle of shampoo at the hotel. Ration that stuff out for like 4 days. It will feel like you’re Bear Grylls in the wild, surviving off whatever you can find. SENSE OF ADVENTURE.

If anything, these adult fails will give you a sense of childlike escape from all that awaits you at home when you get back in a few days. I’m doing you a favour.

Is anyone else out there as good bad at packing as I am? Do you love it or hate it? Have you ever had an epic packing fail? 

True crime obsession confession.

OK, so I wanted to title this post Netflix and Kill, because I thought I was really funny and original. But alas, google (and my gut feeling) just told me that this is not the case. In fact, Urban Dictionary describes ‘Netflix and kill’ as, “Going over to someone’s house while they are watching Netflix and killing them.”

Which is creepy. And now I’ve googled it twice to give you that definition, so if anything happens to anyone while they’re watching Netflix today, I am going to be a suspect.

Anywaaaaay…now that I’ve rambled about why my blog post title is not more witty, I’ll get to the point.

I love true crime stories.

OK, so love is probably the wrong word. But I am obsessed and fascinated. Which is probably what they say about people after they’re found guilty of horrendous crimes haha.

That ‘haha’ was a nervous one. I’m innocent!

I do love that Netflix has a whole lot of series about true crime on it. And I also love that a lot of them are kind of dated. Like they have clunky theme music and bad 90s fashion. And the voiceovers are really hilariously dramatic, using awful murder related puns.

A lot of these shows often feature re-enactments. Which add a certain creep factor to them, but also involve a lot of bad wigs and probably a lot of badly paid actors. Sometimes when the actors are trying to play dead, while wearing ghastly ‘I’ve just been pretend murdered’ make up, they move a lot.

I don’t know what exactly draws me to this stuff, but I’ve always been fascinated by the mind and by how society works as a whole – our attitudes, how we view the justice system, why people behave the way they do – their mental states/conditions. What could motivate people to do such awful things – things a ‘normal’, well adjusted person would never in a million years be able to find it in themselves to do. Like how do people get to that place where such crimes seem like a reasonable solution to their problems??

I used to read true crime books a lot, but I find that harder to do since having a child. Firstly, it’s hard enough trying to find time to read a book uninterrupted around here, and secondly, I find a book a bit too all consuming and creepy – it’s just you sitting in the quiet with nothing but morbid stories and your imagination. If the crimes involve children, I am out. I have definitely softened (not a bad thing) since having the Little Mister! I just can’t even go some places in my mind anymore.

Which brings me to the fact that I make up the most ridiculous rules for myself when viewing these kinds of things on TV, because hilariously, I am actually a very easily creeped out person.

Kez’s never before shared rules (because embarrassing) for watching true crime shows:

  1. Watch these shows while doing something else. I might be doing housework (home alone of course – impressionable child and what not), catching up on filing/scanning at work (I work pretty much alone so I’ll mostly just listen to it like it’s a podcast), sitting down with my laptop open – catching up on the day’s internet. That way, I figure I am not too absorbed or invested in a horrible crime story, and can easily glance away or distract myself if some of the facts or photos/footage gets a bit too disturbing. I feel like I’m only half poisoning my brain with awful stuff. You know, as opposed to going with a full metaphorical poisoning. Because science. OK, so not science. Just my weird rationalisation that doesn’t make sense haha.
  2. Only watch stories on cases that have been resolved. I cannot watch any story that is still an unsolved mystery to this day, or where the unknown offender is still in action. Because creepy. And scary. Same goes for if the murderer/offender is still walking free in society or the justice system failed miserably in their case. Even worse if it’s happened in Australia. Because I live in Australia and holy shit I can’t handle it. Only exceptions I can make are for the Serial podcast (season 1) and maaaaaybe I could be swayed to watch How to Make a Murderer (although I think I would find it far too frustrating).
  3. Never fall asleep with a true crime doco on. I can’t do it. I am a very sensitive dreamer. I don’t want to dream about that shit. If I do, I will literally freak out in the middle of the night, have to turn on every light in my bedroom, and freak out about negative energy invading my sanctuary. So instead, I cleanse with a comedy. I do a comedy cleanse. I watch something hilarious and harmless, with lots of bright colours and daylight in it. Works like a charm.

In a nutshell I know way too much about serial killers for someone who is not  a serial killer, or in charge of catching them (but ignorant enough of the full horror that I can sleep at night – let’s be honest).

Also, sometimes when I have PMS I like to watch documentaries on ladies who kill (I recommend Deadly Women on Netflix) and pretend I’m taking notes, just to freak people out. By people, I mean my husband. And to be honest, he only really rolls his eyes and asks how I can watch that crap.

Sooo…is anyone freaked out by this knowledge about me? Or are you a fellow true crime obsessed freak? And by freak, I mean not truly a creepy freak, but like a well adjusted, slightly weird freak like myself. Because if you’re truly a creepy freak, I won’t sleep for days knowing you’re out there. OMG.

AND NOW I’VE GONE AND SCARED MYSELF. PUT A COMEDY ON AND CALM DOWN, KEZ. OH SHIT OH SHIT.

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What is this? A handbag for ants?

When the Little Mister was born, my handbag situation got ridiculous. Every day, a trip to the shops was like moving houses. An overnight stay somewhere took the same preparation time as that of a month long overseas holiday. There was a pram, nappy bag, my handbag…actually, scratch that. For a while, my nappy bag was also my handbag. Because babies don’t give a damn about style. They just need bottles, wipes, mashed up baby food goo, nappies, nappy rash cream, spare outfits (because poop tsunamis), teething toys, bibs blah blah. You name it, I had it in my bag. I was awesomely over-prepared (yet it never felt like it).

When the Little Mister reached toddlerhood, I managed to get away with carrying just one massive handbag (it was a way of fooling myself into thinking that nobody would be able to tell it was a total ‘mum’ bag – not sure it fooled anyone). That habit has truly stuck. I win all of those silly baby shower/kitchen tea party games – you know the ones where you get points for every ridiculous thing you find in your handbag? Yep. I am a freakin’ champ. I will come to your baby shower and fuck shit up. Woo. Last time I won, it was because I had a toy Hot Wheels car and an odd sock in there.

I am that uncoordinated jerk filling up the aisles on aeroplanes with my massive jerk bag. I am the idiot who bangs her handbag into people at the shops. Mostly accidentally of course. In my defence, some people just walk right into it. I guess they just can’t handle someone with that much swag bag. I am always being told, “WATCH OUT” by the people I’m with, because if anyone’s going to turn around suddenly, swiping several fragile things off a shop shelf…I’m your guy.

(PS Kate Hill does some awesome ones if you’re in that awkward toddler phase BTW – you’re welcome – you too can be a jerk with a big jerk bag but it will be a pretty jerk bag)

So anyhoo…with the Little Mister starting kindy this month, I thought I deserved a little treat. Key word: little. Because now I’m going to spend more days getting out and about without him than with him – which is a little bit bittersweet if you ask me but let’s move on without being a sentimental fool for once, Kez – that means I don’t have to carry so much crap. YESSSSS.

I found this beauty. She was on sale ($30 WHAT?!). She was much smaller than the big arsed bag I’ve been lugging about. She was a pretty colour. She had zips and pockets in all the right places.

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Yep. People have ‘first day of school’ photos. I have a photo to commemorate my first smallish handbag. OK, so maybe I have a ton of first day of school photos too, but shhhhh. I’m having a moment.

I feel like this milestone is completely underrated.

I took my new bag with me to school drop off and the shops today. It was fantastic. It tucked so nicely under my arm. My shoulder didn’t want to dislocate itself from the weight. Sure, it will take some getting used to. I mean, it’s really weird being able to find stuff in there right away. And it does feel like a little handbag for tiny ants.

I feel like someone’s going to yell out, “OH LOOK. WHAT’S WITH THAT LADY’S TEENSY TINY HANDBAG. IT LOOKS LIKE A DOLL’S HANDBAG. THAT HANDBAG IS TOO SMALL FOR HUMANS.”

But the truth is, it’s really just a normal sized handbag. You know? The type that normal women use every day without incident?

It’s liberating. Let me illustrate how it feels, with the use of a Nicolas Cage gif.

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So tell me.

How big is your handbag? What’s the weirdest thing in it, right now

Anticipatory Car Park Anxiety: It’s totally a thing.

Sometimes I get anxiety about a bunch of things (some reasons that make more sense than others). But I have this one anxiety quirk that has never left me. And I want to know if I’m the only one who deals with it…

I get anxious about where I’m going to park when I arrive somewhere. 

Like, for real.

If I am not familiar with the venue or area, I spend way too long worried about where my car will be situated. Like, my heart will actually race at the thought of it sometimes.

I will spend ages before I leave home, googling maps and wondering if it’s parallel street parking, whether there’s enough car spaces in the nearest car park and how much longer it will take me to get to my destination, if I have to account for finding a car space. I worry about where/when I’m allowed to park. What side of the road the parking is on and whether it is easy to access. I worry about how busy the area will be. WHAT IF I CAN’T FIND A SPOT AND EVERYTHING GOES TO HELL IN A HANDBASKET (what does that even mean). What the rules are for each car park: how long I’m allowed to park there for, whether it requires a ticket to be paid for, blah blah.

Because, despite my seemingly rebellious nature, I am a nervous, over thinking chook of a person when it comes to the idea of actually breaking any rules.

Yes. I am ridiculous.

This week, the Little Mister started kindy. I swear I spent so much time worrying about where I would need to park each day. I beat myself up for days for not remembering to ask anyone about this simple every day logistical thing ahead of time – I mean, I knew just about every other thing (trust me). His school has several car parks and I knew nothing of the rules. It was a little bit hilarious just how relieved I was when I got there (after scrolling through pages and pages of online official school documents to find a map) and realised that there were LOTS of places to park at drop off and pick up time. LOTS. And the ‘kiss and drop’ portion of the car park was clearly marked so I would not risk confusing it for a place to park in (we can’t do kiss and drop for kindy kids – obviously best to walk them in and out).

You would not believe how ecstatic I was. After finding my parking spot, I just knew the whole day would go well. Because my car had a spot.

It’s almost like I associate an easy parking experience with turning up somewhere feeling poised and confident and not flustered. Like it determines how well a meeting or an event will go. It’s like an extension of my social anxiety (which is a funny thing for a fairly outgoing person to have).

But like with any other anxiety I experience, it would do me good to remember that everything turns out OK in the end and is RARELY worst case scenario stuff. I haven’t been through anything I haven’t survived or learned from, right?

I mean, do you actually know anyone who couldn’t find a parking spot and that fact alone wrecked their whole entire lives/perception of themselves FOREVER? I mean, I’m sure there are rare exceptional circumstances in which this has probably certainly happened, but what are the odds? Come on, Kez. Get it together.

I am such a freak. Or am I?

Do you get anxious about weird things? Spill!!! 

2015 in review: The forgettable stuff.

Each year I like to write about the unremarkable stuff that happened during the year. Or the stuff that didn’t quite make the blog (which admittedly will be a lot of things because I don’t think I wrote as much as I could have this year). I figure everyone would know the best bits, the highlights, most of the stuff that was a BIG DEAL already. I usually wait until after Christmas, but right before New Year’s Eve to post this stuff, but I decided to jump the gun a bit this year.

So here’s the forgettable stuff that I have found, looking back through my paper diary and at my old social media posts…

Sounds riveting, doesn’t it? 

January

In January, I noticed that money was mysteriously appearing in our bank account. Money that could not be accounted for. It was turning up every month right at the time when Mr Unprepared usually got paid, so it was difficult to notice at first – we were very busy and in holiday budgeting mode (i.e. a little bit more relaxed than usual). I know, right? FREE MONEY. But nothing is ever free, and being the painfully honest person that I am, I was determined to find the rightful recipient. Also, I knew that if the mistake was ever noticed, the money could all be taken back out at once in a huge lump sum and we’d be broke and lose the house and never eat again (I might be exaggerating but you get the idea that it would be hugely inconvenient and would hurt). Several visits to the bank ensued. The money just kept on coming, though. These people really wanted me to be rich from doing nothing. I started to wonder who was so rich they didn’t notice these substantial (for us) payments weren’t coming in every month? If that was me, I’d be all like “Where the eff is my money? It’s been a month! I’ve got bills!”

I’ll never be a Kardashian.

Finally, after an email sent to a mysterious accounting/investment firm, all was solved and I no longer have to fantasise that I’m receiving illegal funds involved in some kind of elaborate underworld money laundering scam. I have quite the imagination when I’m stressed haha.

When I wasn’t at the bank, I was at the beach according to my Facebook photos, so I guess things were still pretty good!

February

Mr Unprepared sold his car on Gumtree. I thought I’d be soooooo hilarious and troll him with a message asking about the vehicle. Let’s just say it didn’t go quite as planned (as evidenced by my Facebook status at the time)…

So…if somebody trolls their significant other’s Gumtree ad with a message enquiring about their vehicle, adding “what’s your favourite colour and do you believe in unicorns?” to the generic message template provided by Gumtree, and then their significant other receives the message, has a little laugh and then accidentally hits the ‘report suspicious email’ link while scrolling with their sausage like thumb…what is going to happen to the somebody who trolled their husband? I mean significant other.
Just asking for a friend.

In case you’re wondering, I didn’t get banned from Gumtree and I even have my own account now. OOH LA LA. FANCY.

March

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We started painting the gutters. We still haven’t finished. Shut up – we’re getting to it hahaha.

April 

OK, so most of April was quite memorable. There was Easter with family and friends. I went to Sydney for my biggest trip away from the Little Mister so far (was only about 4 days but was quite a big deal for me so of course I was sick the whole time). I shopped up a storm and came home very pleased with myself (and needing a lot of sleep and medicine)!

Oh, and on the 4th I made a potato salad, apparently.

May

My parents went to New York without me.

I posted this on Facebook (and tagged them)…

HUMAN OF NO YORK:
“I remember the saddest moment in my life. It was when my parents went to New York without me. It’s been a tough road but I know that in time I will heal and use that experience to one day support and inspire other people who know what it’s like to not go to New York. I think forgiveness is very important. I wish them nothing but the best, even though my heart is broken.”

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FYI, I was really unimpressed with their lack of remorse or sympathy!!

Also, the Little Mister and I got new dressing gowns. Mine was leopard print with cat ears on the hood and the Little Mister’s was a Minions one. We wore them a lot together, much to the bemusement of Mr Unprepared.

June

This month I took the Little Mister to the movies for the very first time (since he was really tiny and tagged along to Mums and Bubs sessions). We also met up with a friend of mine who just loves excuses to see kids’ movies haha.

He was so cute. He was really good, and while he demanded snacks a lot, he sat still for most of the movie (Minions) and was in awe of what he was experiencing (with amusing facial expressions to match). I was obviously quite relieved.

It was around now that I really became quite hyper aware that I had a ‘big’ kid and not just a toddler anymore. Very bittersweet, but mostly sweet.

July

I made this out of Play-doh. I know. Talent. Pure talent. I am really going places.

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August

In August, I got stranded at the local shopping centre for hours. It all started when the Little Mister was having a hell of a growth/brain spurt. These spurts always make him quite difficult (he gets really scratchy and difficult for a week or two – so much fun), so I’d finally thrown my arms in the air and reached out to my parents to please please have him for a couple of hours so I could go out and get stuff done. I just knew he would never be able to handle it and I was getting tired. When my parents agreed to have him, I was so grateful I could have kissed their feet. No kidding. But I didn’t because that would be weird.

So, I set off, parked my car at the shopping centre. Nothing to see here. Went and completed my to do list. Got sick of the place (it doesn’t take long – trust me). I went to leave and something wasn’t right with my car (keep in mind I had an expensive flat tyre only a few months earlier – if that). I pulled up in another parking spot and inspected the tyres. Yep. One was flat as a pancake. I wasn’t going anywhere.

The tyre place (literally 100m away – not even kidding) wouldn’t send someone to help me, because of insurance issues, my parents were hours away (they were caught up) and I had gallantly stupidly turned down the help of a friend I’d run into, who offered to help. I could have done it myself, admittedly, but I’d parked awkwardly and tyres are heavy and I just wasn’t that desperate to look like an idiot (because while I know how to do it I know it wouldn’t come easily haha). I could wait.

Well. During that time, an alarm went off – WOO WOO WOO WOO and stuff started to shut down, while people wondered what the hell to do. After that was resolved, I spent quite a lot of time reading a magazine in the food court and I tried on clothes in every store. Shopping really was my cardio. I swear I did fifteen laps of the place.

I lived to tell the tale (and have never been more grateful that the Little Mister wasn’t with me), but I am now paranoid about my tyres. Like dead set PARANOID.

And I still hate that shopping centre (always have).

*shudders*

September

My parents were away for Dad’s work, so I had offered (i.e. had no choice haha) to check on things while they were gone. I work there too, so it wasn’t a big deal. Let’s just say that there was a really dead frog in the skimmer box of their pool and I had to touch it and it was really really gross and I can’t even begin to tell you. Ugh. Alive frogs I can touch. Because alive. Slimy dead frogs that are still submerged – HELL NO.

October

I had an appointment to see a haematologist. I got to sit in the waiting room for a long time and listen to the other people. There was the old married guy with the dodgy knee who was flirting with the old married (to somebody else) lady who had something else wrong with her. He bragged about his lawn bowls skills. Then there was another old person texting somebody on their phone, with the key tones on – the ones that make that bloop bloop bloop sound really loudly every time they type a letter. I read a scintillating article about people who only create a mason jar’s worth of household waste in a whole year and thought FUCK THAT (which I am aware makes me a very bad person who is helping to wreck the planet).

November

My mum and I went shopping together (minus a child) for the first time in ages. It was great. We ticked things off my to-do list, but more importantly, we had corn chips and guacamole for lunch.

December

Well, the month is far from over, so I might leave it open ended. I am sure that many forgettable things will happen before the beginning of 2016!

If you made it through this post, then you are the most patient person and I applaud you for your strength of character – bonus points if you’re still awake!

How has your 2015 been? x

So many questions: Life with an almost 4 year old.

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So, it’s been 19 days. 19 days since IT happened. 19 days since my child made a big discovery. Yep. It has been 19 days since the Little Mister discovered the word…

WHY.

And I am EXHAUSTED!

I have become his own personal ‘google’. Or probably not google. I’m kind of like a broken down Bing. Remember Bing? Is that still a thing? Well, I’m basically a crappier version of that.

I am being asked so many questions that I don’t fully know the answers to, let alone know how to explain them to an almost 4 year old in a way that he might understand!

In recent days I have been asked…

  • What makes the rain come out of the clouds?
  • How does music get onto the radio?
  • Why does the moon follow us at night?
  • Why can we only see a part of the moon?
  • Why does Santa give toys from the shops?
  • Do cows have gutters? (he meant udders but it took me a while to figure it out)
  • How does helium make the balloons go up?

Then once I’ve given my best (but usually terribly articulated) answer, he’ll follow up with “WHY?”

WHY INDEED.

I also get the usual requests for snacks, demands for help with various things he wants to do around the house, questions about why things are where they are or why he’s not allowed to do something. Questions about what it is I am doing every second of the day.

 

I decided to do a little experiment. I decided that I would record every question I was asked. Just for a day. From the moment he got up until the moment I had time to sit down and write this blog post.

In 3.5 hours I have been asked a total of 110 113 114 115 questions.

ONE HUNDRED AND TEN THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN* QUESTIONS.

And I am also sure I missed a few. Not even kidding. I only recorded the genuine questions and even left out some repeat questions (i.e. the moments when he just kept slamming me with the same question until I answered – this kid gives no time to think y’all).

I did originally transcribe each question, but in the 10 minutes after the Little Mister got out of bed, I literally could not write fast enough (and show him enough attention) so I resorted to a tally system. I then just wrote down the most interesting ones:

  • Where did you live when you were a baby? Why? (he should write blogging prompts haha)
  • Did Daddy go on his (recent charity) bike ride in his car? (I answered that if he’d gone in his car it would have become a car ride and you can only do bike rides on a bike). When he got his answer, he asked – can you sing me a song about that?
  • Can you get new clothes, because your shirts fall down? (someone isn’t a fan of my slouchy off the shoulder shirts worn around the house)
  • Can you buy me more (kitchen) stools for me for my birthday?
  • Why don’t we have blueberries? WHY DON’T WE? (um because every time I buy them you say you don’t like them…?)

Today, as I tried to take a moment to gaze off into the distance, I was asked, “What are you thinking about?”

When I answered that I was just thinking about how I’d love to get a new couch for the family room (yes – I was in fantasy land), he seemed satisfied…for about half a minute.

He then spent at least ten minutes trying to guess what I was thinking about at any given moment.

“Are you thinking about ALL the furniture?”

“Are you thinking about the doors? How about the doors? Do you think about them and how you can go inside or you can go outside?”

“Why? Why aren’t you thinking about the doors?”

Um…

And the craziest thing is when I ask the Little Mister “why” (on any topic), he looks all frustrated (without any sense of irony – obviously) and says, “Ugh. BECAUSE!”

Like that’s it. His whole answer.

Now I feel like I get why mums say that classic (and infuriating) line, “BECAUSE I SAID SO!”

I feel you, Because I Said So mums. I feel you.

In the last couple of weeks I have been unable to stay awake past 8:30pm (it’s the brain drain haha) and I keep waking at 3:30am for no other apparent reason than my brain realises this is the only quiet time I will be able to appreciate.

While I am so so so stoked that the Little Mister has an inquisitive mind and asks some really cool questions, am I a bad person for also kind of looking forward to the day when he can just google that shit?

Have you fielded any great/embarrassing/confusing/complicated questions lately? Anyone want to come and answer the Little Mister’s questions for a day? Or all week? Want to ask ME a question (may as well haha)?

 

*the total kept climbing WHILE I was writing this post. Seriously. SEND HELP.

Kez Gets Physical: Active Wear. When should we wear it?

So there’s this video going super viral at the moment. You might have seen it already. It’s funny. It’s clever…

I mean, I laughed! But the thing is, I have a confession. I wear active wear. I exercise in it – promise! But sometimes I wear it all day before I can get a work out in and I don’t give a damn who has a problem with that! I don’t mind having a laugh at myself about it either. What normal person sees that in their future? Haha.

Why do I wear it all day sometimes? Because hell, that’s what works for me. I am not going to compromise my motivation levels for anyone who can’t stand to see activewear on a human being for longer than the time it takes for them to work out. Ain’t nobody got time for that!

I tell myself that if I’m wearing it then I have to work out before the day is out. You know, so I’m not THAT person.

Also, I know that if I’m already wearing the stuff, I’m not going to tell myself that I can’t be bothered taking the time to get dressed for exercise when that time of day rolls around. Excuses be gone!!

So next time you see that chick who looks like she’s been wearing her gym gear all day, with no sign of a work out (YET), go easy on her. She might be me! She might be biding her time until her husband comes home from work or her kid is in school or whatever the reason may be. It’s called efficiency, y’all and if I’m feeling pretty frickin’ comfy at the same time – why not?

So to answer the question I posed in this post’s title? When should we wear activewear? WHENEVER THE HELL WE NEED TO.

Feel free to laugh at/with me, because I am unapologetically wearing that stuff all day long if that’s what it takes to get me fit, mother f*cker!

😉

Do you wear activewear? Do you love it or loathe it? Can you actually really tell if another human being is wearing it for the right reasons just by looking at them? Isn’t that video hilarious? 

 

This is just a silly post, but I do send the message that you shouldn’t let other people’s stereotypes or judgements stop you from doing what is best for you x

Jeans with holes in them. Thoughts?

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Do you know what’s always been fashionable? Jeans. Jeans have always been in style. Sure, there have been many different kinds – flared jeans, 90s mum jeans, dad jeans with white sneakers – WTF, acid wash, entire double denim outfits – but they’ve been an enduring constant. It’s a huge wardrobe staple for most. Male, female, old, young, big and small.

Right?

Well…not for me.

I could just never get on board. My mum tried when I was a little girl, but nope. I wanted to wear pretty dresses. When I was skinny as a teen, I couldn’t quite get them to fit me. There’d be that pouchy crotch situation. Or when I put on more weight than I really wanted in my 20s, there was muffin top no matter what size I tried on (still is a bit). I just gave up after a while. I never felt comfortable in jeans.

Recently, I thought – you know what? I might give it another go. If I can get jeans to work for me, my life will be so much easier each day. Normal people wear jeans. I want to be a normal person who has something to wear! Every day!

I was spurred on a little because I’ve managed to tone up a tiny bit since I started working on my fitness. Knowing I’m making great changes gives me confidence that I wouldn’t just wear them twice and then have to throw them into that deep, dark section of my wardrobe where I put all the things that don’t fit anymore until I inevitably have to get rid of them. You know, just because I had lunch that day.

When I got stranded at the shops for hours thanks to a flat tyre recently (that was a fun day), I thought – may as well try some on! Got nothing better to do! And unbelievably I found a pair. I was stoked because even though there was a bit of muffin top happening that day, I knew it wouldn’t be a permanent problem thanks to my hard work on my exercise (I might have eaten some bad food court food before I tried them on – again – nothing better to do haha). I felt like I’d achieved something. I love that my new jeans have ripped knees. So cool.

Since then, I have worn them heaps. They can be dressed up. Dressed down. Worn almost anywhere. It’s so much easier to decide what to wear each day! I feel like a normal person. Normal people wear jeans. Actually, I feel casually celebrity chic – like just about any famous female picking her kids up from school or ducking into the grocery store – effortlessly amazing. I said FEEL like, not LOOK like haha. Oh, paparazzi. Stop it.

But I have to warn you. If you are thinking of purchasing your first ever pair of distressed jeans, there’s something you should know.

THERE WILL BE DAD JOKES. SO MANY DAD JOKES.

Not just from your own dad, but any uncles, granddads, other people’s dads. Even your own kid’s dad (which is a little embarrassing for that guy if you ask me).

They should put that shit on a label somewhere!

If I had a dollar for every time I hear…

“Hey, I like your jeans. Hey, I could rip up some jeans for you for free! HUR HUR HUR.”

“Hey, I have a pair of ripped jeans! I must be fashionable too!”

“Hey, did you know there’s something wrong with your jeans? They’ve got holes in them.” *wink wink*

“I should just rip up old jeans and sell them to young women! I’d be rich!”

SERIOUSLY, OLD DUDES? SERIOUSLY?

I guess that’s OK. I don’t understand some dad fashion myself (ahem socks and sandals *cough* Dad *cough*) so I guess we’re even 😉

Do you wear a fashion item that is always misunderstood? Do you own distressed jeans? Ever had the same problem with ‘dads’ when you wear them? Are you a dad? Are you down with the torn jeans? What do you think of the trend? 

Memories Meme.

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The day before yesterday, I went about decluttering my study. I had to say goodbye to a whole lot of stuff that made me nostalgic but no longer had any purpose in my home. As I sorted through CD after CD, book after book, I felt like I’d been transported back in time. I could remember all the time I spent huddled over my CD player, gripping the booklets filled with notes from the artists and lyrics (if you were lucky). I thought, wow – I was actually pretty cool! Well, at least my music taste was haha.

As books and CDs become less of a ‘thing’, with the rise of newer, quicker, more compact technology, I realise that so many things were unique to my generation (as were all the things the generations before us enjoy memories of). I actually felt a little emotional when I handed all of the stuff over to the lovely staff at Cash Converters (for those not familiar – they’re Aussie pawn shops). And they were lovely. They were quite excited at the nostalgia I had brought back to them too.

I was inspired to create a bit of a throwback themed meme of memories – you can give it a go in the comments too or let me know if you blog about it (be sure to link back here so we can all find each other)! Don’t be afraid to give lots of details so that I can feel like I was there! x

What is your first ever memory?

I really clearly remember being on a sailing boat. I remember being outside the cabin thinking I was totally going to fall over the edge into the water. I was scared and really wanted to go back inside the cabin where it felt safe. This happened a few times in a row until finally I realised I didn’t need to be scared. I then remember wondering where that boat was and when I’d get to enjoy not being scared again (my parents had sold their boat damn it – I’d only just got the hang of it). I asked my mum about this a while later and she was shocked that it was my first memory. I was only 18 months old!!

First music album you picked out/bought:

I was a little late to the CD game (I was a cassette girl for a little longer than a lot of my friends who were so cool and had portable Discman players), but it was a big deal when I bought my first one. It was the Sunday Morning single by No Doubt (which google tells me was in 2005). I was probably about 10 or 11 years old.

First concert/live music gig you went to: 

I went to a Silverchair concert with my best friend. It was 1997. We were head over heels in love with Daniel Johns (the lead singer/guitarist). The show was at the now non existent Perth Entertainment Centre. We were too small for the moshpit so we sat in general seating with my friend’s older brother who had kindly agreed to chaperone us. I kind of remember embarrassing him a bit when we squealed and sang along haha. Also, I found the ticket stub yesterday. It cost us $27 to get in. THE TICKET COST $27 – WTF. Ammonia and Magic Dirt were the support acts. OMG.

First car: 

I had a charcoal coloured 1994 Nissan Pulsar sedan (which I thought was waaaaaay superior to a hatchback for some reason haha). I bought her from my parents (they knew I’d be safe in her). I had to earn half of her value and my parents would match me dollar for dollar. They made good on their promise – yay! I decked her out with a dodgy Blaupunkt stereo that hated half of my CDs and we were in business! She was called Buzz because she had the letters ‘BZ’ on her numberplate. I kept her for years, but ended up selling her to a nice police family.

What do you remember most about your first childhood home? 

I remember the backyard (probably also because of all the photos my mum took). There was a great area out the back, where we had a swing set and a cubby house. My mum would tape a big piece of cardboard to the outside (exposed red brick) wall so we could paint. I also remember the family room. The family dog Bo Bo would come in and get all excited, barking and making the rug move under his paws.

Did you ever get in trouble at school? What for?

I was pretty good. I’d get told off for talking in class sometimes. I think I was disciplined for not doing my homework on time a couple of times. I think I had maybe one detention in my whole high school career. Something about a swimming carnival, but I have no idea what I did wrong.

Name 5 movies or TV shows you remember watching most as a kid/teen:

  1. Home Improvement
  2. Full House
  3. Lion King
  4. Recovery (remember that 3 hour Saturday morning show on the ABC hosted by Dylan Lewis? OMG)
  5. Rage. Back when they did the countdown of the top 50 songs each week. I’d try and wake up super early on a Saturday morning, sneak out to the TV, plug in some headphones taken from my walkman (haha) and watch as many music video clips as I could before my mum busted me. My poor mum haha.

First celebrity crush: 

It’s hard to say. Probably Jonathan Taylor Thomas (yes JTT) of Home Improvement fame? I used to pin up his posters from my TV Hits magazines. That’s a little embarrassing but it was totally age appropriate at the time!

What did you want to be/do when you grew up?

I wanted to be everything from rock star, to pro surfer travelling around in a Holden EH wagon (very specific). I also wanted to be a SAHM because my mum was so awesome at it. As I got a bit older and realised that there’s this thing called reality (my passions may have been music and surfing but my talents and dedication were rather lacking) and wanted to be a youth worker or social worker.

What new technology excited you while you were growing up? 

I remember when we got the internet. We got a computer and the internet at the same time. It was a big deal. Back then, not everyone had both. My friends all had the internet before we did. I know, right? HOLY F*CK I’M OLD NOW.

I remember finding these ‘make your own website for free’ things. I tried to start blogging (before I even knew what blogging was), but because like no-one had the internet, it didn’t exactly take off. And I think it was really difficult back then. I probably just forgot all of the passwords and stuff. I used to spend lots of time at friends’ places in IRC chat rooms (sorry Mum). So bad, now that I think about it. So many creeps that we were naively flirting with while WAAAAAY under age. Yikes!

 

So…now it’s your turn! x

Everyone’s a critic: If my home received a TripAdvisor* review.

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So I was recently researching some overnight accommodation for my Misters (the Little Mister and Mr Unprepared) and I, as we briefly considered spending a night in the city. It would have been partly for convenience (Mr Unprepared has a big early morning bike ride coming up) and also for a bit of family fun. A chance to get out of our usual little home life bubble. Why not, hey? Kind of a staycation. Sadly, this never eventuated (too complicated)…

But…the thing is, TripAdvisor does my head in. I wonder what the hell we did before we had this review system? We just *gasp* winged it?! Now, every hotel decision feels like life or death. WHAT? THEIR INTERNET ACCESS IS PATCHY? ONE PERSON FOUND DUST ON THE SIDE TABLE? That’s it. We can’t go there. I must look at five other places, crosscheck the features each room has, compare prices and analyse each review IN DEPTH. All perspective has been lost.

I have reviewed the reviews and while some people seem to have made well balanced comments, there are some pernickety people who I would NOT like for a houseguest. I wonder what their houses are like?

Which made me wonder what kind of honest reviews my house would get? *gulp*

Here’s what I think it might look like (and I’m being generous haha)…

Location 3.5 stars

Located within walking distance of both a beautiful estuary and the ocean. Quite a distance from restaurants and other fancy things. You’ll need a car to get around (the bus service is not exactly an all hours type deal), but there is a new little neighbourhood supermarket that the locals can’t stop raving about on account of having been deprived for so long of such a thing. The view from the front of the accommodation is pretty boring – facing onto other residential houses. You won’t get a good photo of the sunset ever, without feeling like you’re invading the neighbours’ privacy, but it is pretty to look at. Your instagram opportunities will be limited and this may bring frustration, because DAMN it REALLY IS A GOOD SUNSET. It’s really close to the highway, but it’s not too noisy.

Sleep Quality 2 stars

You’ll be sharing the accommodation with a cycling addict who rises early for both work and recreation, so you will feel very sleep deprived. You’ll also find that the child resident will on occasion make a noise early in the morning, often singing just one line from that viral ‘hit’ song What Does The Fox Say over and over (consider it your wake up call). Because you’re expected to assist in looking after said child during the day, you will find yourself lying awake in the middle of the night for no apparent reason other than to worry about things you didn’t have time to worry about during the day or simply to get in some ‘thinking alone’ time. Don’t stay here if relaxation is what you’re after! Terrible!!

Also, rooms are very noisy during the day. I heard constant moans of, “I’m hungry! I need to do wees! WATCH THIS!”

Rooms & Cleanliness 1.5 stars

There are only two liveable bedrooms available (which you have to share with other residents). One is shoved full of stuff for storage (enter at own risk) and one has been turned into a makeshift study/ironing room (in terrible condition). The owner has apparently made plans to overhaul these rooms, but nothing substantial has been done about it. There is dust on some of the furniture, there are piles of clothes on the floor. When asking the domestically challenged lady owner about this, the reply was, “What? That’s just my floordrobe. Don’t touch it. It’s a very highly organised system.”

Housekeeping seems to happen often, but the accommodation still looks very much like nothing was done almost immediately afterwards. I noticed a lot of crumbs underneath the couch. And on the couch. Also, under the dining table. What. The. Eff. On several occasions I was amazed to see the owners used their DOG to clean up the floor. WITH ITS MOUTH.

Self contained. Pantry well stocked with complimentary baking ingredients a lot of the time. The master bedroom has an ensuite, but when an early riser uses the shower, it wakes whoever was trying to sleep because there is no door separating the rooms.

There are TVs with access to a DVR stacked full of shows up to a year old because the owner never has time to watch anything. The internet is OK, but on occasion becomes so slow you can’t even *gasp* watch Netflix!

Family friendly set up. Backyard. Play area. No-one is judging if your kids are cray cray.

Very ‘homely’ ‘lived in’ feel. We all know what that’s code for.

Service (either 5 stars for children or 1 star for adults)

If you are 3 years old, the service is fantastic all around the clock. If you are any older, you have to do everything yourself. You may be able to coerce one of the owners to do you a favour here or there, but you have to be really nice and it depends what mood they’re in (see above for sleep quality).

I don’t recommend the so called day spa. It consists of the owner just slapping some moisturiser on your face, painting your nails badly (only on sporadic weekend evenings) and then shoving you out because there’s no time for anything else. Well, I never!

The ‘gym’ is a treadmill shoved up into a corner of the master bedroom. The only upside of this is that if you fall off, you will land in bed.

The food menu is “Have what we make you or get it yourself” and depends on how close to pay day the owner is.

Value (hard to ascertain)

Children stay for free. Adults must contribute to mortgage, housekeeping and admin. It’s totes worth it if you have nowhere else to go. Basically, it’s like a working holiday.

The place has a lot of potential and once the owners find two seconds, it will be undergoing several improvements – woohoo!

 

Guess I’ll be staying here then! You know, because I live here.

Would you stay at my hotel house? What would a review of your place look like? Do you obsess over reviews when planning to stay somewhere? 

*I probably don’t need to say it, but this post is in no way associated with TripAdvisor.