Saturday, July 25, 2009

Kitch Lit.

I haven't updated in a while and I am uber tired so this'll be a rather untidy and possibly overlong post. Deal with it, hag. Yes, Annie, that last sentence was directed at you.

This is absurdly minute as far as irritating things go but I'ma blog about it anyway just because I can. I am a vegan and thus use vegan cookbooks. So far, so semi-good (I know I just lost most people at "vegan", let alone "cookbook", but bear with me). But every time the cookbook says "almond essence", "pine nuts", "peanut oil" et cetera I have to substitute stuff 'cause I happen to be allergic to nuts. And I can't help thinking I'm altering, perhaps too much so, the flavour or texture or general character of certain dishes. Like this batch of chocolate-raspberry cookies I made using coconut essence instead of the aforementioned almond. I couldn't taste the raspberry; I just got the added bonus of nervous worry about getting raspberry seeds in my gaping- wisdom teeth related- wounds. Don't get me started on the pesto issues...

Since workmates read this thing now I'ma give them a shout out. Sirpozedly I don't mention work in my blog much so here we go. Casual settlements clerk. Yes, I got an ENTER that assured my seeming attractive so far as young employees go but now I actually work there people know I'm actually a total ditz. But aside from my being a wee bit of a silly lass, I have some loverly friends there. If you're reading this guys, I really do appreciate you. I like Allison's shopping addiction and the adorable outfits that result (I really do love those shoes). I like that Annie walked halfway to the train station with me the other day so I wouldn't complain about her ditching me to go home to surprise her Mum. I like Jason's being uber smart and driven but also really modest so it takes half a day of me badgering him before he tells me he aced last semester at Uni.

I had another movie night Friday the other night, this time with Maddee, and it was great. Manhattan was a really funny and sort of creepy/sweet movie where this 42 year old guy is in love with a 17 year old girl. Sounds interesting enough until I tell you that Maddee and I watched Juno directly afterward where a 16 year old girl is hitting on her middle aged teacher; "I love Woody Allen". Hello?! I tried saying this to all these people and no-one really got my point until I finally told my Dad (who loves Woody Allen films, actually named me after one, but thinks the guy himself is a total creep) and he did that cheeky grin he does. Great guy, my Dad.

So speaking of this weird film immersion thing I've been doing recently- seriously, it's basically been my life of late- I'm rather sorry I paid to watch Baby Mama. Only $1, mind, but it was still a waste. Note to self: never, ever, go watch a film just because Tina Fey is in it unless you're completely sure she wrote it herself.

On that note, I'ma go do that white, middle class girl thing I do so well where I have the absolute best time shopping at Officeworks.


"That's generally what happens next in an argument between males." - Maddee.

"Ass-tet-ick... is that the word?"- Annie.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Music's in my soul.

I ditched the Austen plan rather quickly this week due to the amount of awesomeness flooding each day (sandbags just weren't working. And when in Rome; do as the characters in Housekeeping do). So splashing around in all the good times I kind of ignored the literature and embraced the adolescence.

Last night, for instance, I had friends over. They enjoyed my cooking, I enjoyed their company and one stayed over. Yes, you guessed it, sleepover shenanigans ensued. Remember Michelle? Well, she's a massive fan of the crappy movies. It's like we're soulmates. That or teenage girls. We kind of spent the night eating cupcakes and watching High School Musical 2, Camp Rock and lots of Gilmore Girls. And when we woke up in the morning, we did some more of the same.

You see my dilemma, don't you? And thus, other than a brief comparison of my parents to Mr. and Mrs. Bennet (kindly meant, I assure you) in conversation, I haven't spent an awfully significant amount of time reading Jane Austen's masterpieces. I may or may not try again (which is an attitude I should probably apply to this lazy and inconclusive blog post) so stay tuned for that one.

Oh. Um. I sort of showed symptoms of a slight crush on Joe Jonas during Camp Rock. Don't worry, I called my Doctor and he recommended that, at this stage, what we should focus on is what quality of life is possible.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Picture this:

Hannah sitting at home in an oversized boys' t-shirt and old, baggy school trackpants. No, not sitting, crawling on all-fours across her bedroom floor like a ferret excessively interested in DVDs (the ones she's arranging and searching through). She decides to look up a vegan brownie recipe online and pulls out a piece of paper. Needing something to lean on, she finds a small notebook in one of the many wooden tables/dressers/desks she has cluttering her room. Finishes writing out the recipe and flicks open the cover of said notebook. Finds three pieces of writing from two years ago. Gets on her laptop to post one online.

I've watched you mourn the loss of your best friend for two years. I've only begun to mourn the loss of mine, and you won't even notice until I am so torn at the seams that I stop being your cushion against the blows the world gives you. It's just the same truth I relearn all the time; no one catches me when I'm falling. It's when the crack of me hitting the ground wakes them up that they realise they need to scrape me off the pavement and rebuild me. But they settle for superglue and awkward smiles instead.

And there you have the early part of my Saturday evening. Emo, innit?

Friday, July 10, 2009

Let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France.

Here's your headline: Hannah lets workmates harass her into admitting her online obsessiveness.Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue but it is what happened.

In fact, they're probably reading this right now.

...bored now.

Anyway, my major social breakthrough is of no interest to the people who've signed up to read about the inane details of my life. You'd much rather read about the time I met Megan Fox. Too bad. You read about the first thing.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

I think I'm having a thought.

Reading snippets of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies in between birthday parties and anaesthesia has inspired me. Starting next Sunday (it seems a fitting time) I am going to attempt to read, in a single week, all six of Jane Austen's completed novels. I know she has around three unfinished works but who can be bothered? I think it would be a nice way to spend some of my midwinter break and you know I'm a screwed up teenager when, upon reading of a country dance interrupted by zombies, I think "But what was Mr. Darcy going to do next?!" I've read Northanger Abbey and Pride and Prejudice before, and have read the first parts of Sense and Sensibility and Emma, but I think the re-reading will be good for me. Be prepared to be utterly bored by me next week. Well, moreso.

In other news, Maddee came over today which was loverly. I am still amazed that after being ready to have my jaw amputated on Thursday I can possibly be feeling this good now. Still in pain and very aware and proud of my stitches, but I was all cheeriness today ('cept for mealtimes... I bear a distinct resemblance to Homer Simpson at that point. Food should be revered in silence.) and I think we had a nice day. Watching Buffy, making BBQ tofu and chatting about weird adolescences. Yay for Sunday.

I better go read a fantasy novel with a cliched cover. Yes, that is the criteria by which I am judging it, shut up! I promised to indulge Trina and Sarah. Watch me be a mediocre friend and grumble while reading it. No, really, do. I'm something of an exhibitionist.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

I wanna come down and walk around your mind.

Aha. So the ridiculousness of the sister's Friday night basketball reached new levels recently when they found out that next week's game is at a holiday town. That's right, somewhere people often vacation at because it's far enough out of the city to be a novelty is the location of an early evening basketball game. Can you hear all the working parents saying "yay"? I love the optimism of my cousin's wife when Mother said "So next week we're going to Corio Bay...": "Oh, are you going on holiday?!" Just thought I'd start the post with that because I'm the only member of the family not into the basketball thing so I am laughing- perhaps a little harder than I should be- at the misfortune of my kin.

I feel I should finish some of my afore-posted-about stories of birthdays and pain. Very separate topics, mind, which is a nice change considering my experiences of previous years. So we had the "family" birthday gathering last Sunday (the prophecy predicted I would meet my doom on Monday so it doubled as a "take a good look at her now" sort of deal) which was nice and heartwarming and all that. Babies were everywhere, as were gorgeous presents (among my favourites: a vegan cookbook, a JB voucher- they seem to be my kryptonite- and a ring from a makeshift Aunt that she bought for herself when she was newly 18).

And then there was surgery. Can I state for the record that I hate general anaesthetic? My reasons are many. The first: I don't cope well when I'm not allowed to eat. The second: I cope worse when I'm not allowed to drink. A mug is basically an extension of my arm when I'm home but I spent all of Monday morning lying in bed watching DVDs, terrified to get up because I knew I'd absentmindedly make myself a cup of tea. The third: the anaesthetist was so casual about the amount of things he was sticking in my arm. I wasn't sure if I was being executed, getting high or being put to sleep because he was so bloody neutral about it all. The fourth: I woke up someone who was fascinated by my IV. The nurses just sort of smirked knowingly at me while I rediscovered my inner stoner. Oh, and now, a week later (though this is probably due to my likely current state of iron deficiency) I still have track mark. Singular. Yep. Hannah = worst junkie ever.

I will say for this whole experience, though, that Mother is a Goddess. Sometimes I would have trudged out to the kitchen to take painkillers and she would see the grimace that was practically painted on my face: "Do you want to come and sit with me for a little while?" "...yes." I guess the comfort of your Mum's hugs never really wears off. And on Tuesday when I was absolutely starving and hadn't been able to eat anything not bearing a striking resemblance to gruel, I held out a recipe book open at the page for potato and leek soup and she just said "okay". And damn, if it weren't the best potato and leek soup I ever ate. Last night we sat and watched an old musical on DVD together. What's funny is that we never would have done it if I hadn't been so debilitated, and Alice hadn't been out, and Michelle wasn't too tired to do anything else, and basketball hadn't been on hiatus etc. etc. But we both agreed it was the best Friday night we'd had in a while.

I'm liking this post thus far. Someone said recently that they couldn't keep a blog because their life was so boring and they wouldn't know what to write about. But I guess I like having a blog, and knowing at least one person is reading, because it's encouragement to look at your life creatively and try to find positive aspects of it. I mean, it would be arrogant to assume my life is so very interesting that you should take time out of your own to read about it. But you do, for whatever reason, and I suppose for my own sake and yours I try to edit my experiences into something pleasant to read about. And, really, life is quite pleasant. So wewt for blogging, for the perspective it gives me, and for my inflated sense of self importance that inspires me to write such fluff.

Um, my legs hurt as they normally would the day or so after exercise. Having been basically bedridden for a week, I say "huh?"



"I'm a little vegetarian."- Erin (one of the wee bonnie lasses I call "cousin").

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

The cheque from the Tooth Fairy must've got lost in the mail.

Note to self: don't watch funny shows when your mouth hurts. Laughing doesn't cure everything and just because Rebel Wilson is normally a terrible performer doesn't mean this won't be the time she showcases a spasm or two of wit. But let's rewind.

I haven't posted anything recently which is partially due to my getting my wisdom teeth out on Monday. Since then I've been drugged up quite a lot (my current status: drowsy and dizzy) and/or in sufficient amounts of pain and thus this is my first post in a while.

We were given instructions about medication that led me to believe I'd OD or something if I had any more than one painkiller (extremely strong, mind you, and capable of sending me to sleep for hours at a time)except that I was still sort of -how you say?- extremely uncomfortable. One phone call later and I found out that despite the ever humiliating act of having to be weighed at the hospital (leave me alone; my middle class, white femaleness is allowed to rear its ugly head sometimes) the nurses/doctors/anaesthetist had forgotten to mention that with my weight I could be taking another two painkillers on top of the sleep-inducing mega-drug. Since then I have been much merrier and gratefully rediscovering the ability to chew.

While I would love to write more, my head is currently protesting my semi-vertical seating position so I'ma go sleep off some of this dizziness and come back later to talk about the rest of my fascinating, cookie-cutter post-op experience. I know, wisdom teeth + pain = unusual and interesting reading. Stay tuned to see if Hannah makes it, kids.