For the person who googled me for 'sexsi piss'

is this what you were after?

I'm not quite yet politically socialised, but this bites ass

Enny says: Shame, media, shame.

Pack of fame whores.

Who hasn't said something derogatory about partner/associate/friend?
Let alone a partner/associate/friend of a partner/associate/friend.
Or a partner/associate/friend of an ex partner/associate/friend.
It's not like he shouted it down the microphone of a press conference.
And just because he's a politician doens't mean that every single word he utters should be property of the public and exploited, exagerated and put out for slaughter. Are you gonna start recording his grunts as he shits?

FFS.

What he said had absolutely nothing to do with his job.

As much as we would love to be represented by completely morally sound and outstanding citizens, we're not. Let alone the implications of a government made up of people with the same standards, expectations, behaviours and attitudes.

Let he without sin cast the first stone.

To have people jump on their high horse, beat the poor guy down to the ground and stomp the fuck out of him while he's down? I hope they're ashamed of what they've done and feel the weight heavy on their shoulders.

What pisses me off the most is this type of shit. How about you get off yourself for a minute there girly? You sound like you've got your head so far up your arse I can't even think of a derogatory comeback to finish that sentence. I hope you're feeling it most of all, you to telling everyone 'your personal experience' so we can 'sympathise for the victim' when it reads more like an 'I'm so hott I knocked the foo' back fo' sho' and oh! that dawg's sleazy' sob story attempt. I fyou feel uncomfortable having a pick up line attempted on you, then, um, how about you don't go out to bars, dickhead? If you need a drink or want to catch up with friends, stay home or go to their home or go to a restaraunt. Three words spoken to you does not constitue a ground-breaking news story that will hail you as the victim - you're a stuck up self serving bitch whoring yourself for a snatch at the media-invoked whirlwind around this issue which should have remained personal and private and been handled with respect and care.

Goddamnit.

And I know this is rambly and not necessarily coherent or objective, but I just had to get off my chest how completely fucked up this type of crap is.

EnnyPen 101 - Week 7

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!

UNI FEES PAID UPFRONT:

ENNY USES FRIENDLY AND FRUSTRATED 'SHOCK AND AWE' PERSONA TO GET OFFICE PLEB TO REPRINT HER INVOICE

BUNGLE IN THE ADMINISTRATIVE JUNGLE:

SYSTEM ERROR CAUSES GENERAL SERVICE FEE TO APPEAR AS PAID - VERY DEFINATELY 100% SOOOO WAS NOT

PHONE ZONE:

REMAINING BANK BALANCE CAUSES ENNY TO PEROUSE E-BAY FOR TRENDY AND TOTALLY REQUIRED PDA PHONES (OTHER DEBTS STILL OUTSTANDING)

95p a copy - grabb itt whille itt's hott!!

Have you heard of Rory McLeod?

He's a folk singer and today he made me feel kinda naughty.

I first heard him at my first (and only) Folk Festival - held in Canberra each Easter (they also had The Waifs before they got 'discovered'). When I got home, M&D showed me they had one of his albums and I instantly fell in love with Footsteps and Heartbeats (this CD is residing with me at the Conder House as they seem to have forgotten I borrowed it for my room that night, circa 1999).

He's not very well known, but is really expressive and has some magnificent poetry in his lyrics - lonliness, love, need, want, excitment, lust and so on. Beautiful.


Anyways, I was a little suprised to find a copy of one of his albums in The Music Shop the other week (albeit on the sale table for $6.99 a double CD) and I was listening to it at work today.

For your entertainment and squirminess, let me reproduce some lyrics from the single When Mum and Daddy Made Me (you can tell this is going to be "interesting"), presumably a song to be sung lullaby stylez:

"...Daddy was laughing deep inside mummy and singing a river..."
"... like rowing a boat and their breaths were warm, they were rocking so deeply"
"... Daddy sang 'what a wonderful river to swim in, you are'..."
"... And mummy sang 'what is it that is making me hum?'..."
"... Mum sang "Your blossom, I feel you blossoming. I feel you blossom in me'..."

Hmm.

So it doesn't sound so naughty here.

Guess you had to be there.

But there should be a NSFW stamp accross any song that leaves me sitting at my desk with a confused goofy look accross my face as I feel unsure about whether to skip such an intimate confession or turn it up and start to chortle and grunt thinking about the lovely Rory rocking deeply like a boat and blossoming inside...

*...laptop hibernates...*

Okay, so maybe you don't like hearing about my boyfriend and the guy who dates minors and my annoying lecturer...

but now it's my turn to 'blank' you! {has anyone seen Black Books?}

Tmr morning I get on this:

to go here:

and stay here:


to do this:


and this:


and this:



and this:


especially here:


before getting on this:


and coming back here:

~*~TTFN~*~

EnnyPen 101 - Week 6; mach ii

Two in one day? What a treat!

The time is now is 5:30.

Minus five minutes walking time from the carpark to here makes 5:25.

Minus fifteen minutes playing with my phone in the carpark (apparantly this makes you look like less of a 'tard than if you were just standing there not playing with a phone, even tho everyone knows you're just scrolling back through your messages or editing the names in your phonebook to have those fancy squiggles and dots over all letters possible) until The Hun sms'd to say he'd be late makes 5:10.

Minus five minutes walking from the tute room makes 5:05.

Minus five minutes gazing over the want ads on the pinboard to fill in some time since you sms'd The Hun to say you were finished early and would meet him in the carpark makes 5:00.

My tute started at 4:30 yet by some magical Dr Who time-trick it felt like it took 3 hours.

You know that feeling when you're somewhere with someone and it's all awkward and you got nothing to talk about yet you are obligated to stay? Kinda like what I guess a blind date would be like... That's not a good phenomen to be having with a tute being run by the lecturer... that's a hella lot of awkward silence.

I could some the whole experience up in one word.

Bibilography.

No, that's not a typo. Bibilography

Bib as in babies bib,
il as in full sik
oh as in oh shit I've started to say this word wrong - mebbe if I say it 19 times in half an hour it won't be as noticeable
gra as in I'm a nervous perpetually single lecturer with no chance with women so stumble when I try to say bra
fee as in what us suckers are paying for half an hour with a lecturer/tutor who can't pronounce bibliography.

God help us.

***Bonus paragraph!***

Not all lecturers here are that bad. We've had a guest speaker for the past four weeks, today being her last class with us. She was applauded at the end of the lecture. APPLAUSE PEOPLE!!!!

EnnyPen 101 - Week 6

This Law lecturer is going to be the death of me.

Can somebody please explain to me the point of prescribing 80 pages of reading for the lecture and tutorial, then spending the 2 hour lecture speeding through the powerpoint slides which aren't available on the network, flicking through the pages faster than you can type (my handwriting is illegible- sign of pure genius and a destiny in great things). I took 11 type written pages of notes just now. 11!!!! And every third line or so is just: (CUTOFF). I mean, he goes so fast that I keep (CUTOFF) stored in my clipboard so I only have to Ctrl-V each time the fucker flips the page early rather than spending two hours tippy-tappying CAPS - Shift - 9 - C - U -T - O - F - F- Shift - 9 - CAPS. By time I get up to the U he's already three pages ahead of me so I (practically) just spend the 2 hours 'pasting' eleventy hundred times.

What's pissing me off is now that I have the textbook (it only arrived last week) and I read some of the 80 pages (please. I have a life. Fucked if I'm dedicating 3 hours of my time to this wanker), he just seems to be regurgitating the textbook reading into powerpoint. WTF am I bothering to come to lectures?

He doesn't take role call in the tutorials. He doesn't know anyone's name - we rip a piece of paper out of someones book and put our names on all by ourselves!!! How can I get a tute mark if he doens't know who I am?!

What's ironic is that from what I can pick up, he was carrying on about Discharge by Frustration and from I can piece together he should be discharged for his shitpoor efforts at upholding his side of the contract to educate us.

Excuse the nonsensical rant. I'm pissed that I wasted two hours taking notes (the underside of my wrists are sore from keyboard friction!!) and now I gotta go spend an hour in the same stuffy room as the pompous git as he asks us questions about things he hasn't taught us yet.

Boys are funny things...

Before you rotten-tomato me off my soapbox, gimme a mo'.

I've always gotten along better with boys than girls. This may have something to do with having three younger brothers. And being a tomboy. And all the martial arts stuff. Anyways, thats not my point.

I had the pleasure of engaging in two contrasting boy email tags today...

{Deleted by the Author - sorry dudes!}

Now contrast that with this convo with the eldest of my brothers, dating my ex-housemate...

Good Afternoon,
Where is a good place to take {insert gfs name here}? It's going to be 6 months on
Thursday and I want to book somewhere nice.

awwwwwwwww ;o)
go thru mum n dads entertainment book!
they got good stuff n recomend a lot of fancy places =o)

Thanks.
My plan is to send her flowers at work, take her out to dinner and buy/make her a chocolate cake with pink icing.

awwwWWWWWwwwww!
i'm sending this to The Hun for hints ;o)
OI!! MANOOPID!!!!! READ THIS!!!!
;o)

Thanks.
I know its cliche but it's what she would like.

(The Bro stops and The Hun takes over)

i already do lots for you, what are you complaining about?

*sighs*
;o*

you know this is the stuff i'm talking about... you just don't appreciate all the things I do for you... :P

hrmm?
i dun understand?!
have you been sednig emails askin ur family for names of lovely places to take me
and ordering flowers to my work
and making me a pink chocolate cake? ;o)

no... I cook you dinner, and i do your washing, and i clean up your things and the house, and I come and watch musicals with you, so we can share and talk... *sigh*

thats true
you really are a lovely little fellow
*scruffle scruffle*

SILENCE

Heh heh heh.
Did somebody order apples and oranges?
Chalk and Cheese?
No?

525,600 minutes*

Tomorrow The Hun and I will have been 'together' for 18 months. Not a big deal to him (or so he says) but I'm a girl and hence allowed to indulge myself in fancies like anniversaries, doilies, puppies in outfits and objects with rafia-work bases that their fathers had put there the night before but that weren't in the same place the next day.

So, fuelled by a Big Breakfast at My Cafe in Manuka, and a choctop during Unleashed (it was alright, tho proddly tarnished by the regulatory stoopid goofy talking and laughing guy sitting to my left, and the newborn that may have also been responsible for the BO-slash-aniseed scent that was haunting Woden Hoyts - I'm a reborn Hoyts Tuggies convert), I decided I shall relish you with a rundown of mine n the Huns 'history'. And I know you proddly don't care, but I'm trying to break the drought of Blog Patrol referral posts (see two previous posts)... For those guys that just dun care bout this kinda stuff, scroll to the bottom and leave a comment lookin' like you did read it for bonus points with the lay-deez.

I went to school with The Hun, all the way back from kindy, back in like '87. Kinda like the Summer of 69, but I was actually alive in 87, and the name wasn't as pervy. Apparently, a friend of ours has a photo from like year two, where the three of us are sitting together, reading Spot or something else typically Primary School.

However, I never really took any notice of him until about year 8. This was the year he started dating a friend of mine (who became a friend after they started dating). We would watch him n his friends play football on the oval at lunchtimes, and I'd watch wistfully as at the end of each game he was drawn like a magnet to her. I would sneak peeks out of the corner of my eye, wishing for the day that someone would hold me all the time, unable to walk anywhere without me parked in front of him, enveloped in his arms (hint to any younger readers: making yourself a new years resolution to get a boyfriend will not get you a boyfriend. Even if it is resolved every year from year 6. True Story).

Because I'm a she-bitch, I worked myself a bit of a crush on this guy, and because it was high school, they'd break up every few months or so. I remember being in the computer lab one lunchtime (I'm ignoring your sniggering) and having a friend run in to tell us that she'd dumped him. Again. For the last time. This was year ten and around the time that my friends became aware that I had a crush on him, including his now ex. And because she's so lovely like that, she dind't care. In fact, now, the both of them 'don't really count' their 3 year high school romance and get along just dandy. The closest I ever came to a high school date was participating one of those 'my friend likes you and says they'll go to the formal if you just ask'. Unfortunately, he was the one waiting to be asked, and because of such high school perculiarities as 'NoooOoooo!! I can't!!! Then he'll know I like him!!!" the closest I came was sitting at the same table as him at the formal. And taking a total stalker style pic of him when I called out his name, and caught him in suprise as he turned towards his name. Total. Romantic.

In College, I got my first boyfriend from the pizza shop I worked at. But, he was there and interested, whilst The Hun continued to feign disinterest. One night in August 99, The Hun and I were at a(n underage drinking) party and I remember talking to him a lot on the night. Yeah, I was officially taken, but I would have dropped the boyfriend (which I know is terrible). And I thought I was being fairly obvious with that, but boys are dumb, and thick, and he started going out with another girl from school.

This pattern continued uninterupted for a few months, until my 18th when he gave me a card and an oil burner for my birthday. The card contained a typical school crush message, a 'you're one of the things I miss the most about school but don't tell my girlfriend I told you this' type thing.

Needless to say, (after a night of drinking and skinny dipping with an 'associate') the old boyfriend was turfed and Enny was a-single again. For a month, before dating another guy. Apart from the night where I told The Hun that he 'always was and always would be my backup' (a totally endearing term meaning that I wanted him as mine), our resepective relationships continued on interupted for a few years. Until I realised that my boyfriend was cheating fuckwit bastard I could do better and dumped his disrespectin' ass we parted ways. Similarly, The Hun realised that not liking seeing your girlfriend around when the 'normal-distance then long-distance relationship' returned to normal-distance is a bad thing, they parted ways too.

In January 05, I started house-hunting with his ex. We had a mutual friend that we were each close too, but she backed out at the last minute, so we were looking to rent together. This was cool at the time as I'd never been that close to her at school (the whole 'I have a crush on your boyfriend' thang goes down better with good friends when they haven't, you know, had their heart broken by said boyfriend), and it meant that he'd proddly come to the parties or drop in sometime.

At the same time we discovered we had secured the Chifley House, she was discovered to have a large stomach tumour and couldn't move in for a while (terribly, this didn't stop us from asking her parents for the Bond) and the house was secured.

There was still a housewarming party though. Rumour was he wouldn't be attending as he was unwell. But he did. And there was that same tension, that same flirtation, and that same 'I'm looking at your boobs but not really 'looking') type thang. At the end of the night, after witnessing one of those awkward 'goobye' hugs that can only be shared by people that broke up four months earlier and haven't seen each other since then but want to keep up appearances, I invited him to come out to Civic with me.

Febraury 14th, 2005, The Hun came out to Civic with a friend of mine. Another 'flirt-tension-ish' night of dancing and drinking ensued, and he stayed at the newly found Chifley house. However, because he is a boy and boys are stoopid, he wasn't exactly clear about his intentions. Yeah, we did stay up talking until quite late that night, but he did let my friend practically pass out on his shoulder. So I vowed that I would find out the next weekend if anything was ever going to go ahead (I was outta home now - no time to dick around!!).

We had a farewell during the week for a friend who was going to Africa for a while, and The Hun and I chatted obscurely about the chances of us dating. The conclusion seemed to be that we couldn't get together, due mainly to the whole 'your housemate who was my ex isn't over me yet and she has cancer and that would be really innapropriate' thang.

Nontheless, Saturday the 21st of February 2005, The Hun came out to Civic again. A bit of drinking and pretend admonishment for perving ('Walk in front of me because my pants are falling down' 'Who else would get to look?' 'I'd let you but you've already told me you're not ready') lead to dancing in a group. Which led to dancing as a two after spotting his sister on the stage at In Blue. Which led to him shakin' n shimmyin his groove thang closer and closer to plant a kiss on my forehead. Which led us to getting his sister to drop us off at the Chifley house. We lay on the floor of the Chifley House loungroom for hours that night, and he called me his girlfriend.

The rest is history.

(Please note, his ex is fine. There was a big drunken screaming match that resulted in The Hun and I moving far, Far, FAR away from the Chifley House, and she did move into remission, then out of remission, but is back in remission and travelling through Europe atm and still 'in touch' and we can all be totally civil and at the same place together and all that.)

I spent all lunchtime yesterday looking for something small and not too sentimental to give to him, as a token of our time together. But I couldn't find a thing.

From the days when I would time my walking to school to when I would think it was most likely that he would ride past me.

To the times when I would dress up more for parties when I thought he would be there.

To that awkward week when it was obvious what I wanted him but he wasn't sure what was the right thing to do.

To the way that he always made me blush, sweat, seem totally awkward and say the stupidest things when he was around.

Tomorrow is 18 months of 'officialdom'.

And I'm the happiest Enny-Pen there ever could be.

*happy anniversary hunny-boo*
*Muah!*

*The title is taken from the musical "Rent" which we are going to see tomorrow which is my favourite musical of all time but being performed by the local "G-String Productions" group - review to follow, I imagine!

Again with the searching and the finding of the site

Welcome!

to whoever it is that wanted to know about kneeing my brother in the balls:

What's sad is that the link to this post was on the fourth page of four.

What was proddly a bit sadder is that I actually looked it up to see whereabouts my post ranked.

Honestly: What was saddest was that I searched for it without the 66's and 99's (" ") and got to page 38 before working out how it was found....

Anyone else having a quiet blog day?! ;o)

Yoo Hoo! I'm over here!!

Whoever was looking for cute enny round lunch time today - I'm sorry you didn't find me. I went cycling again today so you proddly only found Red in the face and scavenging for ANYTHING sweet to eat Enny.

However, coz you got directed to my blog, you musta stuck around till 3:30ish when I caved in and went to the tuckshop for a chocolate chip muffine and another redeye. Sugar makes me feel cute.

Come back around 9:30pm to see if you can find the squinty eyed and suffering from sugar withdrawal/sugar hangover enny or pensive why can't I control what I eat and try and lose some weight enny...

(WTF is enny where?!)
(mebbe I should look it up to see if it can tell me...)
(I dunno what they were after - I'm linked sixth, but the first link rhymes with vagina...)

EnnyPen 101 - Week 5

First things first - everyone give props to The Student who I am blatantly ripping off by uni-posting.

Now, take a seat and tell me WHO THE F()CK MOVED THE POST OFFICE AT UNI!?!?!

*clears throat*

Let me try that again, from a slightly different angle.

Have you ever heard a uni student complain that they can't pay their uni fees?

"These damn uni fees, I just can't pay them!"

Like that? Yeah? I know how they feel. I just can't pay my damn uni fees.

(Get ready for the punchline....!)

It's not that I can't afford them, that I don't have enough money, that I'm gonna hafta start turning trixx for income. The fuckers simply won't let me hand over the cash!!! I want to pay!!! I'm all like, hey uni, here, take it biatch, take it!!! But they won't.

Rundown: I got my acceptance like two days before it was due in. I drove my ass from Tuggers to Belco to hand in my forms. Ticked, checked, approved and filed, I was told to expect my invoice in the mail halfway thru the next month. My attention was drawn to the fact that last semester, many people didn't get their mail on time and ended up being discharged from their courses as they hadn't paid the bills that hadn't yet arrived. So the guy told me to call after a few weeks to check up on it all.

I'm a good girl. I do what I'm told. So I called and was told 'it's on it's way'.

It wasn't, so I called again the next week and was told 'it's on it's way'.

You can see where this is going?

I did this a few times, weekly or so.

FF'ward to last Monday, where a call to the helpdesk gives me: "I can see here on my screen that it was posted to you on Friday and should be there tmr".

Thursday - still with no bill, I call and she get: 'Oh! You haven't filled out ur ra-ra-ra form. It must be done by tomorrow or you are expelled'.

So. I leave work at 3 and speed to Belco.

Enny: *breathless* I need to fill out the form so I don't get expelled
Snooty-yet-friendly-and-quirky-office-girl-gimp: What form?
(explanation ensures)
Snooty-yet-friendly-and-quirky-office-girl-gimp: It looks like you already have.
Enny: double-yew tee eff!!
Snooty-yet-friendly-and-quirky-office-girl-gimp: Oh no, yeah, you need to fill it out. Please tell me you have ur tax file number
Enny: double-yew tee eff!! SHE TOLD ME I DIDN'T NEED IT!!
Snooty-yet-friendly-and-quirky-office-girl-gimp: Oh. Do you want to pay upfront?
Enny: YES!! I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO TAKE MY FRICKIN MONEY!!!

So, I filled it out. And was told the bill would be printed last Friday night so I could pay.

That night (thurs) I get a call from my Dad to say that the uni sent a letter to say I need to fill out that form to avoid getting kicked out (nice one, dumbf()cks, a little late, don't you think??!!).

Friday I get a call from my Dad to tell me that my bill has already arrived.

How? I ask. It doesn't get printed until tonight?!

So I brought it in today and asked the guy WTF it was meant to mean.

"Oh, it's wrong. We'll print a new one on Friday, it will get to you next Tuesday. But you need to pay the $135 services fee"

So, after walking into what used to the Post Office (now a computer store) and stumbling around like a derro looking for it (it's moved to the general store) I get to the lovely old man that I recognise from when I used to study here.

I would like to pay my General Services Fee, please.

It says here you've already paid it.

WTF?FFS?!!!

I haven't paid it. These bloodsucking money merchants seem to be vehemently opposed to bloodsucking my money!!

There's already a late fee (it was due before my bill was issued) so I'm keeping mum on this one.

Shhh.

Stay tuned till nex week when you find out if i get to give someone like a grand of my money that I could use at the DFO in Melbourne in a fortnight or if I end up mailing it to my fav bloggers (that'll keep you comin back for more!!).

Apologies for the gruffness and pirate-mouth in this post - {Deleted by the Author - sorry dudes!}

*SIGH*

The one where Enny finds out blogging is genetic

The party wasn't too bad last night - general theme of :drink: :drink: :yawn:, :eat: :drink: :yawn:, :eat: :eat: :eat:, :drink: :yawn: :yawn:. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that it was bad or anything, but I wasn't really in the mood for a party and there's only so much of the Enny Cocktails you can stomach before they just aren't frozen or sweet enough anymore and it's too late because you've already spent most of the night smiling at people with berry bits stuck between your teeth and everyone is to intimidated to tell you in case you laugh too loud at them or mistakenly launch into a story about how you'd do ur friends mum from behind coz then you wouldn't have to look at her face (different brother, different ex-housemates, but true story nonetheless).

Anyways - sidetracked.

My little bro (well, youngest of three lil brothers, but at age 18, over 180cm tall and >=80kg(?!) I should get outta the habit of calling him 'lil') rocked up round 10, with another younger brother (20, >185cm and 136kg app.) , making all four kids together in one place (the oldest of the three youngest is dating the ex-housemate - capisce?!!).

We were all talking about something or other to do with HTML and !!!111!!one!! jokes (three cocktails, three cruisers, no dinner, shaddup) when he (the one I'm putting blood on here) says: 'ra ra ra ra, It's all in my blog'.

EnnyPen: You have a blog?
Him: Yeah. But I haven't updated it for like two months
*EnnyPen drunkenly tries to exchange meaningful eyebrow wriggling with The Hun who, aware of my lack of subtleness when I'm wearing drunk-eyes, classfully ignores me*
EnnyPen: I didn't know you had a blog?!??!!!
Him: Yup.

And that was that.

So this morning I dressed up in my espionage gear (read: couch trackies and knotty shower hair) and googled some combo's that I thought would take me to his site. Which took me to his friends site. Which linked to his site.

And I read it.

I now I kinda know how Jellyfish felt when her family caught her our, but kind of in reverse - should I be reading this? Surely he knows I'd be reading it now? But he didn't write it for me to read.... But it's public! But it's so private......(round and round and round she goes, if she'll ever sort it out in a post, nobody knows)....

I would link it here, but I was a little startled to see so much reality. Real names. Real links. Real photo's. There's my whole family at Christmas, at birthdays, at pissups. There I am, pre-WeightWatchers. There's one of my ex-housemates, nose turned up at the camera. There's my poor old dog, lumps and all.

And there's all his real life. What he really thinks, what he really feels, what he really does. It's not anonymous. It's not pretend. There's no blurring between truth and fiction because it's all honest.

I'm not saying we're not close - I'm the closest to him of all my siblings. He's always been my favourite, and we've had our ups and we've had our downs. But I really, honestly, at the bottom of my very core, had no idea of how things really are with him.

And I don't know where I'm really going with this.

I'm trying to dump it all out to sort it all out. But, I do have a little bit of a headache. And, I'm pretty sure he's gonna read this. And Big Brother is on. And I've ordered Chinese and I should be watching what I eat. And The Hun will be all like 'why did you write that there?' And people will comment that it's fake and posed and poxy and totally lame.

But what I want to say is this: I am really, really proud of my lil bro. He's a lot like me in that we just don't deal with 'those' conversations. If we have something meaningful to say, it comes through email. Or SMS. Pieces of paper under the door in the old days. And now, who knows, possibly in blog form now.

There were some things that hit a nerve with me, and so many things that reminded me of how things used to be with me, with my life, with me way of 'dealing' with people. So, if you're reading this:

Don't be worried about some of the things that are worrying you. Getting used to silence can be hard, after spending so long bombarding yourself with noise, with loud music, with games with violence and lowbrow content, with vidoes, pictures and animations, and with the thoughts that go round and round and round your head and you feel that they are never going to end, never going to go away, never be quiet and leave you in peace. I'm crap with meeting new people too - I once spent all night talking to a guy on ICQ, to finally meet him in real life and not say one thing all night. Not. One. Word. I sweat when I know I'm gonna be in a new situation. And even The Hun tells me that I'm totally different with my friends than I am with him - not really myself. And the difference is more noticeable when I'm with girl-friends as apposed to boy-friends. I laugh inappropriately. I talk to myself. I put on a mask of 'Hey, I'm cool with this' when I'm usually not.

And you'll always have someone to talk to if you need to.

/Fin.

And I thought I was prone to over exageration...

...but there's something to be said for The Hun who, being desperately torn between going to a party at the Monash house (with my most recent ex-housemates) and watching the sexsi union, will compare the stigmatism he would receive for not attending simply because he just doesn't want to attend, to being China: "ra ra stand alone nation ra ra communist regime ra ra ra do you? DO YOU?!??!?!!!!".

Needless to say, he gets to watch the rugby and then come and drive me home once I've consumed my quota of d'lish frozen cocktails, as follows:

Crank up the Blenda and Glamma-mix:::

• Vodka;
• Tequila;
• Blue Curaceo (sp?!)
  
• Red Cordial;
• Brown sugar;
• Frozen raspberries;
• Frozen blueberries; and
• Servo Ice.

Consume merrilly, with innapropriate stories, naughty s-and-f-and-c-and-a words'drunk eyes' and embarassing snorking laughing.

Go on! Nothing helps you celebrate a week of snow, stoopidly cold weather and increased site traffic than a frozen cocktail (please comment back and tell me all about ur EnnyBuzz!)

SNOW!!! IN CANBERRA!!!!

You heard me!

Checkit:

Weatherpixie couldna got it more wrong. Frickin Freezin'. No Sun. Wind blowing up a storm. White. Everywhere.

I love that the weather can be enough to stop the whole public service from doing 'important' stuff and draw them towards the closest window to ooh and ahh and gasp and talk about 'walking to school in England' and 'buying snowchains' and 'snowday off work tomorrow'.

To be honest, it was really beautiful. I don't ever remember seeing it like this before, the only proof I have of snow in Canberra is a photo of me barefoot on the front lawn with spatterings of white, when I was about 5 years old. Yup, barefoot. BASTARDS!!!

It was floating, and twirling and twisting around, varying sizes, shapes and thickness, building up in some areas and dissapearing instantly in others. Real Life SNOW!!!

Don't hold ur breath peoples:

This is all that remained on my car after I got home to where my camera was paitently waiting. You'll just have to take my word that there was snow-like on my car, and it was dainty and lovely.

This is a hill from my backyard. For those who know some of Canberra, Gordon is to the left of the hill and probably in front of the hill too. Lanyon shops would be somewhere to right. The arrows are pointing out snow, more snow and the randoms that were walking past as I peered over my back fence.

Sorry Dude and Dudettes - that's all I got for now.

Rumour has it we'll be going below minus 5 down here tonight, so rug up!

EnnyPen 101 - Week 4

Ha!

You thought you were going to get away without reading a Uni rundown!

Well, my evil minions, come towards the evil uni light.
(or come back in a few days when a new post has pushed this one below the line of common decency).

Truth be told, I almost didn't have anything to write about BUT I was saved by my tute this afternoon.

As you may or may not know, I'm doing two units this semester - one that I enjoy and one that couldn't be more disorganised than a monkey in a watermelon spitting contest:

'D'uh - whats going on? I'm soooo disorganised!'

Heh heh heh.

Anyways. The tute went along the lines of this:

Disgruntled masses: Will the lecture notes be up on the net?
Tutor: Ra ra ra ... people are so spoonfed these days ...ra ra ra I don't see any evidence of people with the lecture notes doing better - actually quite the opposite... ra ra ra I'm giving up valuable time in the whatever courts to be here... ra ra ra.

Basically, he came off as really arrogant and unorganised.

When we asked if we really needed to purchase 3 textbooks valued at over $170, his answer was "well I could prescribe 25 textbooks if I really wanted to".

*sigh*

And today, lo and behold, I came across posts on our unit discussion board - I did have slightly edited copies of the emails but I'm sure that's breaching some privacy-thang, so I've taken some creative liberty and given you a summary:

Some Guy complains about the lack of lectures in the first week, how he's had no tutorials yet because the tutor didn't show up, there's no unit outline, the lecture room is too small and people are crammed into there making the room "hot and unpleasant" and he reckons he could sue and get compo. He also says (and I quote): "and how ironical...its a bloody law subject".

(FYI: If this guy is who I think it is, he was't in the lecture today).
(and WTF does FFS stand for?! - he used it but I couldn't include it here).

Other than making us look illiterate and reaaaally uneducated, I was liking his point (I would have included the whole post if I wasn't aftraid of being pack-banged by his homies).

So did Some Other Chick. She was frustrated too as she had no tutor and only six people showed up to her tute. She was also pist coz she had organised a babysitter and driven from Tuggers to Belco to get to it, only to have to track down the people in the responsible department for them to tell her that there is no tutor assigned to the tute yet. She also didn't like the lack of unit outline and lecture notes. She did give a bit of nicey and say that he presented the info well, it was jus the admin stuff givin her the shits.

So, I forwarded these to The Hun, inserting my own little smug and narky comment about how much I hate the tutor and how crap he is, formulating a post on my dummy lecturer/tutor.

Buuuuuut Theeeeeeeeeeeennnnn?

Turns out he's ony running it coz the original lecturer had to go to hospital, the notes weren't on the net coz of his lazy department, they're trying to get another lecutre theatre, and the uni approached him to come in and help.

Someone else added their bit too which was obviously a mature age student sucking up, not worthy of any notice (except to say that compared to driving from Golbourn, Tuggers isn't that far....).

Still.

He sux.

And it's a crap course.

*pout*

*reflects on rambling nothing post but can't remove it because then she'd be missing a "101 Post"*

*pouts a lil more*

*catches sight of reflection in Dell screen and smiles*

*dimples*

Another first for EnnyPen

This year has been a year of firsts.

For me: I bought my first couch. First coffee table. First TV Unit. First clothes hanger dryer. First laptop. First day back at uni

For blogging: My first post. My first comment. My first comment on another blog. My first reply to a comment on another blog. The first time I was linked. The first time I was found thru some terribly inappropriate google search.

Tonight was the first time I made mashed potato (feedback seems to be that it was too lumpy, too much, not cooked enough and even though I said it was for nutrition, he thinks I was just too lazy to do the peeling and that's why it was a little chewy).

And plenty'o'relationship milestones wit The Hun: First (and hopefully only!) time to 'officially' move out with a boyfriend (and his first transition from boyfriend to partner - but don't tell him). First decent photo together. A joint account. First phone bill. First electricity bill. First grocery trip for 'our' cupboard'. First holiday longer than just a few days with someone other than family. First mega-huge argument in a public place (dare YOU to spend the whole day in a theme park with somone who wants to go on rides but won't go alone EVEN THO YOU HAVE PREVIOUSLY ARTICULATED THAT YOU HATE THEME PARK RIDES BUT JUST WANT TO GO FOR A FUN DAY OUT!!!). *Alert* Composure regained *End Alert*

etc etc.

This weekend we reached another milestone: First purchase of 'art' ('art', instead of art, because it is just a framed print).

We visited the frame sale in fyshwick that's been advertised like peanuts down in Canberra this weekend - it's on the same road where J-Racing used to be, just past Barbecues Galore (Fyshwick is also the pr0n capital of Australia for all you non-Canberrans).

I also highly recommend it (uselessly, as the sale is over) as the old guy was really nice and understanding when we found out my zoomy-broomy car is totally useless for transporting things and he showed us round the back as soon as he overheard us wondering aloud how a different print would look in a dark frame. Plus %50 off is a big incentive when I can honestly say I got two prints for $125 (%50 off $500, and we bought one each).

After spending an hour or so looking at every single picture in the shop, we finally came accross a set of two that we both liked (I discovered I have a 'thing' for flowers and colourful art that some see as 'nothing' or 'stoopid-manoopid', whilst The Hun has a thing for monochromatic prints with flashes of red - disregarded as I like to come home and relax, not come home and be tensely surrounded by images of murder).

The prints we decided on? Ilhan Yildrim's De avond and Esra.2, as displayed below:



They are each about one metre squared, framed in beautiful dark timber (our only requirement other than that we both have to like it) and glass covered.

I can't find a thing about the artist or the meaning of the prints. I like the colouring (there is a deep blue in the sky). I like the singularity (single tree, singla man, single moon). I like that it doesn't look like it belongs in Freedom furniture, or sitting out the front of a Koomari bin down near Gowrie shops. I like that it's framed and not just another poster. It's deep, calm, reflectionative (read: makes you reflect), sombre and grounding.

If anyone has any feedback on them, I'd love to hear it.

I'll also hammer The Hun for what he thinks it means n let you know.

But for now, it makes our home look like one for grownups. And that's good.

I'm not paranoid - If I could black over faces and details in all my photos life would be hella better....

Still basking in post-grading glory, I thought I'd have my own go at photoshopping a few photos of the grading, proddly moreso for myself than anyone else.

So, let the games begin!

This is me beating up on the 'other gal' grading with me. See how I've got her right hand in my left? See how it's bandaged? Yeah, I'm a bitch and was so nervous I forgot it was hurt. It's also funny because in the unedited photo (I'm serious! that's not my real face!) I'm looking all angry and tough and stuff and she's a gimpy-handed cripple (since sneaky breaking practice).

Don't feel sorry for her - here she is getting some back on three pieces of wood with her elbow. She broke em and, according to our master, looked priceless with relief when that happened.

And here she is getting some back on some our first and second dans. She's kneeing my brother in the balls here (the guy on the left does that eyebrow thing all the time in real life, and the guy on the right is one of ones I had to tell off on Monday so he gets a dumb face).

This time I'm the one attacking my brother. I cut my finger open on the first break, so I'm actually covering his uniform in blood with my 'enthusiastic' contact.

This was one of the fights. I just wanted to include it because I'm winning for once and there's not much proof of that anywhere else *gloaty gloat gloat*

~ TJ: Hope you noticed the lovely garden outside ;o)

Here are the first, second and third dans after the grading (obviously one of the more relaxed poses). Sexiest damn school in Canberra.


And here's my toe after I pivotted all the skin off it and had to trim a chunk off with nail scissors to stop it flapping around:



Hooray!!!

EnnyPen 101 - Week Three

Don't tell anyone I'm eating in the library - I'm such a rebel.

I also love the fact that you can go to the toilet in here. In actual, proper, actual, proper toilets - not like Erindale library when my mum caught those two boys pissing on a book in the corner where the magazines were kept and all the librarians could do was laugh and blush rather than, i dunno, maybe stopping the little freaks from defaming the literature?

But yeah. Eating in library = great.

I have the feeling I am way out of my league in the politics class. Like, all these words I've just bandied about all my life have actual meanings that I don't understand. Communist. Capitalist. Bourgoisie. Marxist. Liberal. Socialist. Conservative.

It's like there are brief moments where I can grasp it and then *poof* it's gone. Usually, I have opened my pie-hole at that brief moment of recognition and have the tutors attention by the time it has fallen out of the other side of my head. Leaving me looking the same as I did at my grading...



Coz that's totally gonna get me the high-tute marks I'll need because I don't understand the concept of government, business and society. Or the 'classic theory so it's really easy' stuff.

And NOW I've got to go to my other class. Which started a week late as they had no lecturer. Or course outline. Or textbook. So last week we listened while he talked off the top of his head for two hours in a severely overcrowded room about stuff that isn't examinable because there is no course outline yet. Still. In week three. Twenty minutes before the lecture.

And I've already eaten my Milky Way.

Sidenote: Some more recognition ! I'm the eleventh site listed when you yahoo search for 'wrinkled old granny tits!' (due to a combination of this post and this post). Ricadonna anyone?! Cheers!

Thank God it's over! (It's not that interesting but I felt I had to fill you in anyway as it's all I've been thinking about for months!!!)

I passed - EnnyPen is now a 3rd Dan.

I did tai chi form, stork form, crane form (with a punch through wood in the middle), fighting on a horse form, sidekick form, star form and free form with a stick.I did wrist grabs, knife attacks, partner work, (LOTS of partnerwork) and combinations forwards, backwards and with a jump/change. I sparred one and two people respectively. I broke three boards with my elbow, and four with two kicks and two chops.

All I've got to show for it is a blistered pussy (as in lots of pus) toe, a weepy knuckle (from crane form that bled the entire 80 minutes), some bruising on my hands and a headache (2 parts exhaustion to 1 part dehydration). Oh, and the certificate and another stripe for my belt.

I am SO glad I won't have to do it for another for or five years. SO GLAD!!!!

We started half an hour late, with nerves so overwhelming I was puffing at the end of tai ch'i form (hint: NOT NORMAL) and all video footage shows me staring gape-mouthed at the instructor in an effort to stop my nerves from blocking my hearing whilst trying to get some oxygen into me. We had a nice chat with the masters and then went to the Pide House for a feast (SooooOOOOooo good!) and back to the other girls place for an 'after party', then I was ready for sleep - so have to catch up on the drinking I'm owed!. Lunch at Ginseng in Manuka the next day was lovely, topped off by being given our certificates. Then there was much napping and Conder Pizza and Cadbury Marble chocolate eating, to mourn my self-made deal to start counting my weight-watchers points again from today. *sigh*

So, I'm off to re-iron my bloody uniform (no time for washing!) {Deleted by the Author - sorry dudes!}

But thats the plus-side of the job.

Whatever will I blog about now?!