spreegirl.net

March 23, 2004

A Lawyerish Joke.

Looks like my mother does have a sense of humour (and she could put herself in this poem, she really could - she works for a regular Bunch o' Pricks ™).

Last night as I lay sleeping I died or so it seemed,
then I went to heaven but only in my dream.

Up there St Peter met me standing at the pearly gates,
he said “I must check your record, please stand here and wait”.

He turned and said “Your record is covered with terrible flaws.
On earth I see your rallied for every losing cause,

I see that you drank alcohol and smoked and used drugs too,
fact is, you’ve done everything a good person should never do.

We can’t have people like you up here, your life was full of sin”.
Then he read the last of my record, took my hand and said “Come in”.

He led me up to the big boss and said “Take her in and treat her well.
She used to work for a law firm – she’s done her time in hell”.

Posted by Ren at 02:29 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

Stop it with the sultanas already!

Honestly! It's gone past annoying into the sublimely ridiculous.

Apple pancake - with sultanas. Bran muffin - with sultanas. Biscuit thingie - with sultanas.

Sultanas, sultanas, sultanas.

I'm up to my eyeballs in sultanas and I hate the little bastards.

Posted by Ren at 12:18 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack (0)

Referrererers?

For those of you who were using the old referrer javascript thingie that recently shut down, there's another one you can use here.

Posted by Ren at 08:25 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

March 22, 2004

Snippets

This is just... SO wrong.

Your fat is your... pet?

GET IT AWAY! GET IT AWAY!!!!!! GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! (Scary. I. Shit. You. Not.)

Oooooh... this is nifty! (Really. Fucking. Cool.)

The school for learning how to shove one's hand up a cow's bum. Essential learning there, folks.

There is no description that aptly describes how weird this is.

Handy-dandy airport codes! Just what every traveller needs.

"Hi! My name's ~hic~ Ren, annnnsh I'm an allikolic..."

Posted by Ren at 10:31 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)

Let me tell you a tale...

Once upon a time, in a world far, far away, there lived a Princess which everyone admired. This Princess was bored one day and so decided to gather a small group of friends, her Ladies in Waiting, from across the land in order to not only achieve greatness, but also personal growth and understanding. The Ladies in Waiting were very enthusiastic and felt honoured that such a one as the Princess would allow them to converse with her on a daily basis. In doing so, they learnt that they had lots in common with each other and all of them became (what the Ladies in Waiting thought were) close friends.

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The Princess was a hard task-mistress on her Ladies in Waiting, constantly demanding and wanting her Ladies in Waiting to achieve that elusive greatness. She gave them chores which made them question themselves to their very cores and reveal more about themselves than they could possibly reveal to anyone else, but the Ladies in Waiting didn't mind. It was an insight into their own lives and only drew them closer together. At the time they chose to ignore the fact that whilst the Ladies in Waiting jumped to fulfil the Princesses demands, the Princess did little for them in return. They loved the Princess and were willing to overlook the problem.

For nearly a year the Princess and her Ladies in Waiting existed happily together, the Ladies in Waiting striving together to become better, healthier and happier women.

Then one day the Princess told her Ladies in Waiting that she wanted to leave her castle because another princess was making her life difficult. Upon hearing the details of these difficulties, the Ladies all rallied together with support and helped (or so they thought) the Princess gain the strength and courage to do what she needed to do.

Several things happened to the Princess which worried the Ladies in Waiting, several of whom tried to help but were ignored in their efforts.

Little did the Ladies in Waiting know that the relationship between the Princess and the other "horrible" princess wasn't what they had assumed - and it certainly wasn't what they had been told.

Nonetheless, the Ladies in Waiting still rallied and were most proud when the Princess purchased a little cottage for herself to live in, away from the other horrible princess. Safe. Happy.

The happiness was not to last however, as the Princess decided that she was in love with a Pirate Captain, but disheartened in the knowledge that her love and devotion to this Captain was unrequited and became quite depressed.

Sad for the Princess, her Ladies in Waiting offered their support with everything they had only to be lied to, manipulated and outrightly avoided whenever they came close to discovering the truth of the situation between the Princess, the Pirate Captain, the other horrible princess and anything else that she'd been lying to them about. Some of the Ladies in Waiting became impatient with the Princess, but stuck to their guns, wanting desperately to help their beloved Princess through her hard times, at the same time as rallying around each other when their own times got tough.

Eventually it became too much for some of the Ladies in Waiting and they let their discontent be heard.

Once again, the Princess ignored their pleas and instead, chose to attack them for simply doing what she had been doing for the past twelve months.

Pushing.

Push, push, push. They wanted results. They wanted the Princess to stop being so sad. They wanted the Princess to look after herself better. Her Ladies in Waiting knew that the Princess had everything to look forward to if she let herself and told the Princess this.

Well, that made the Princess angry and indignant and let her Ladies in Waiting know what she really thought of them.

A few left in anger after that, others with a more reluctant heart not wanting to abandon the Princess for hope of her healing.

It was not to be.

The Ladies in Waiting wallowed in confusion and sadness for a while, some doubting they made the right choice, other's still hoping for the best for the Princess.

Eventually they grew angry as they realised they'd let themselves be manipulated by a very controlling Princess and they seethed together in that anger for a while too before realising that the Princess was always going to be like that. That the Princess would always make them out to be Evil Ladies in Waiting who abandoned her in her time of need rather than the nice, pleasant, happy and helpful women they knew each other to be.

The Ladies in Waiting now gather happily in a different realm, enjoying the company of each other, rallying when things get tough and they need that extra helping hand and they know they can depend on each other for support and most importantly - the truth.

The moral of the story? Tell the fucking TRUTH Tracy. Tell them the real reasons why we left, and no, it wasn't just because of the "rabid dog" comment - that was simply the straw that broke our collective backs.

You ARE dishonest, but not only with us and everyone who reads your blog.

You're dishonest with yourself and that's worse.

You're rationalising everything that happened to you and throwing a rose-coloured windowpane in front of yourself so anyone looking in can't see the bad shit. You make us out to be the bad guys and that's not true. YOU controlled us. YOU lied to us. YOU FUCKED UP, not us. We didn't meet your expectations and you sure as shit didn't meet ours - and considering that we were asking for nothing from you but honesty and respect. We got neither.

We didn't just jump ship and leave you simply because we wanted to, but it did dawn on us that you were refusing to let us help in any small way and that hurt us more than you can understand. Rubbing our "support" in our faces as something awful was what made us angry.

Anyway, I continue to hope for you, Tracy, but I refuse to hold my breath anymore.

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Point of Note

Dear Lite n' Easy,

Please cease putting raisins and sultanas in everything. The yummy curried pasta and chicken thing I just ate really didn't need them but I didn't pick them out because I was really hungry and every little bit counts, you know? Even if they're raisins and sultanas.

Sincerely,
Ren

PS - Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for the chocolate muslie bar for my afternoon snack. Sure it's a muslie bar, but it's got chocolate on it. Chocolate is goooooooood.

PPS - Please ignore the drool on the bottom of the page.

Posted by Ren at 01:24 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack (0)

Alright. Kill me.

I like that Britney Spears song... That "Toxic" one (which is aptly named).

Even the video clip is cool.

I am no longer fit to remain in human society.

(It must be the distinct lack of sustenence in this diet thing of mine.)

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Posted by Ren at 10:50 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack (0)

March 21, 2004

Word Association

Wife:: Husband (duh!)
Criminal:: Mind
Campaign:: Role-playing
Infection:: Ears!
Portland:: SPECTRE!!! *bounce bounce bounce*
NASCAR:: "...These fucking cars just keep going around and around and around... It's just so fucking boring!"
IMAX:: Square-eyed
Martian:: Melvin!
Nike:: Just diet! (Get it? "Just diet", get it - oh, fuckit, nevermind.)
Trial:: Jury

Brought to you by LunaNina, the letter "b", and the number 2.98574939576.

Oh, you know, I walked into Nessa's new baby "corner" (it's not really a room as such) and it finally hit home that Nessa is having a baby. Like, holy shit! Nevermind the fact that she's standing in front of me, round-bellied and a little over four weeks from her due date. No, take no notice of that, Ren. It was the Winnie the Pooh stickers on the wall that did it. Poohbear. I'm gonna be a godmum.

As Big Kev would say (before his goo-remover business went bust): "I'm excited!"

Posted by Ren at 08:55 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

March 20, 2004

A Distraction

Pixel-shading, while the effect is cool, is fucking hard to do. (Click on it for pixel details.) That's the first one I've done and it took me a little under three hours. For that. Monica and Sandi can knock them up for a dime a dozen... and I take three hours to do one teeny-tiny base. At least it proved to be a worthwhile distraction.

I. Am. Hungry.

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Day 1 of diet is complete (yes, I started on a Saturday)... and all I can say is I really hate fruit buns. I really do - but I ate 'em, 'coz I was ravenous. And a ravenous Ren is not a happy Ren (unless it's a certain kind of ravenous which we shant go into now). For breakfast was Special K with a whole two sultanas and what I could only assume was something covered in that dried yoghurt stuff. I could deal with that. The toast was good and I even liked the apricot jam *nod*. Morning snack was a fruit cup. Cool.

Lunch was a "Chef's Salad" with a ~~balsa wood~~ balsamic vinegar (not my favourite) dressing which was actually quite nice, a roll and some ham followed by an apple and a fruit bun. Afternoon snack was another fruit biscuit thing that's sorta like that Italian almond bread stuff... you know? The crunchy stuff. Anyway, it wasn't too bad. Kinda sweet so it was a bit of a pick-me-up.

Dinner was Steak Diane (poor Diane) which was actually really yummy. Thoroughly enjoyed that. SK was lovely and tried to help me settle into this diet thing by making a desert of some Weight Watchers pudding which has next to no calories but is a nice little finisher.

Now I'm drinking strawberry juice. Yes, strawberry juice. It's weird. I mean, we drink grape, currant, and various other berry juices, but how often does one get strawberry? It's nice. Sorta like apricot nectar in consistency. Tangy and not too sweet.

Tomorrow is going to be murder. SK suggested that I just eat lunch at Nessa's and not take my food with me. I don't know what to do there. Nessa knows I'm bringing it anyway, so I don't think she's going to cook for me.

I think that's going to be the hardest with this thing. The whole family is going to be watching me eat my salad whilst they eat their roast lunches with roast potatos and pumpkin which has sizzled away in lard... (Nessa makes "old style" roasts *drool*)... for the past hour and be thinking "here we go again, what's she doing this time?" thoughts at me. Or at least, that's how it feels.

And now... I am getting delirious and discussing having a baby with Thomas so we can inject some sanity and smarts back into the American gene pool. Good grief.

« ok... I've read it!

Posted by Ren at 09:32 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Here ye! Here ye!

Or rather, hear me!. (Now archived, email me if you want a listen.)

Ahem. That was thoroughly embarrassing. Anyway, it's about 890KB and turn your speakers WAYYYYY up because my mic's stoopid. (And it's just a hello and a message for persons of the special variety.)

Posted by Ren at 01:41 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack (1)

March 19, 2004

Sisterly Love

Alright. I'm glad I made people laugh last night with my stress-induced-self-imposed Bart Simpson-like lines...

And for the record there was no gouging of eyes with the staple remover.

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I get my first Lite n' Easy delivery today and I cannot wait to see what I get. Bad thing is that I have to go over to Nessa's to have lunch with her, said evil grandmother, my mother, The Pest Whom I will Never Call Uncle Pest Until He Marries Nessa, and SK, on Sunday. Erica, of course, would rather go across town to WhoopWhoop and fuck her not-boyfriend all weekend. This of course, after she tells us she's coming along a few days ago.

Blah.

Stupid, stupid girl.

I screamed at her last night whilst making my world famous potato slice/quiche/thing-that-tastes-good because she took herself off the pill. Riiiiiiight. This guy has convinced her every single time they've slept together to let him do her without wearing a rubber. Greeeeeeaaaaaat. Now she's off the pill (because there was three glorious months where they weren't seeing each other), and I just know she's going to get pregnant. Nevermind the fact that this guy has had another couple of kids with other girls.

I've told her, but she just refuses to listen to me. She keeps chasing him. Why does she keep chasing him? I want to shake her, I really do. We're helpless. Mum and I are helpless. It doesn't help that Mum didn't set any decent rules and that fucking behaviouralist farce of a doctor who told her to IGNORE any fights that Erica and I had. Erica is now 20 years old and very much in the mindset of "I am 20, an adult, and you have no legal obligation over me anymore, therefore I can do whatever the bloody hell I want." We can't argue because she is right, but reasoning with her is beyond our capabilities. There is no reasoning.

What happened was that Erica learnt very quickly that she could push me to my absolute limit of control, safe in the knowledge that there was not a fucking thing I could do about it and that she would not get into trouble.

Of course, this all came to a head a few years ago when we attacked each other in more than a few fights and things were thrown and broken (much glass *wince* sorry Mum...), fists and feet were put through walls, black eyes and knuckle sandwiches were dealt, and people were threatened with knives.

Ah, sisterly love.

Yes, Ren has a violent temper given enough provocation.

Heh. It's always the quiet ones.

Erica and I have been doing much better since SK moved over from WA, and even moreso when I moved out.

« ok... I've read it!

Posted by Ren at 03:38 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack (0)

March 18, 2004

Stress

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I will not gouge out my eyes with the staple remover.
I will not gouge out my eyes with the staple remover.
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I will not gouge out my eyes with the staple remover.

« ok... I've read it!

Posted by Ren at 05:01 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack (0)

March 17, 2004

She's ~~having~~ had a baby...

Do you guys read Dooce? You don't? You should. It's a great blog, even more recently with the addition of the new baby.

Read this... It's fucking hilarious (even if I cannot relate), and very touching (which almost makes me want to... ah... relate).

I'm feeling clucky and in an oh-so-not good way (for SK).

I can't afford it. I'm not mature enough to be a mum. I'm not in the right financial situation to have a baby. SK doesn't want kids (not that that matters). I'm still renting, one cannot have a baby and be renting. I am still working this shithouse job. I haven't travelled yet. Nessa is having a baby for me in five weeks and I am going to be her godmother (it is going to be a HER, I have decreed it and thus it will be so!), so I am going to be busy fussing over that baby.

Okay, I think I've talked myself out of it for the moment.

*sigh*

Guess what?

*waits for a resounding answer of "What?!" from the audience...*

*crickets chirp*

I found my mic! I am going to be following in Thomas's lead and doing some audioblogs.

Hehe. There goes the blogosphere.

I won't be as prolific as Thomas, but there ya go. I hope to get one done sometime before the weekend is over (when SK isn't around).

Blah... work calls. Literally.

Posted by Ren at 01:08 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack (0)

March 16, 2004

Vibrators for men...

They're called cordless drills.

SK's had a fascination bordering on obsession with his since he bought it two weeks ago.

He's out there in the shed, drilling. What, I don't know, but if it's drillable, he's drilling it.

Pity, when he could be drilling something else...

Oh well. Guess I'll just have to play with my own... drill. Ahem.

read more... »

Posted by Ren at 08:05 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack (0)