I should have known better than to ask

Why do people tell you to call them if you need help with anything when they don’t really mean it?  And why would I be so stupid to think that I would get help if I asked?

Most people who know me also know that I’m fiercely independent.  Being raised by two strong women will do that to a person I suppose.  And maybe this makes me seem standoffish.  Maybe people are shocked when I actually ask for help.  Because I ask so rarely.  Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever asked before.  Because I sort of think needing help is a sign of weakness in myself.  And I will never, ever let people see me in a moment of weakness.  Not ever.

Even when my mum passed away I did everything myself.  Don’t get me wrong, people offered their help.  And some people probably really meant it.  But I’ve always done everything myself, without help.  I’ve always been a loner.  Another reason some people find me standoffish, I suppose.

On the other hand, if someone else, if one of my friends needs help, I’m there.  Without question.  Unless I’m out of town or too sick to help.

So when you ask for help, it sorts out the men from the boys, so to speak.  It shows who really means what they say and who’s really full of piss and wind.

Now, what was it I asked for?  I asked for an ephin’ lift to a birthday party / dinner tomorrow night.  I sent an email to all the attendees.  All 20 of them (except the birthday girl).  Two thirds of them are going to be driving literally past the end of my street to get to the restaurant.  The only person who responded is a girl who lives in the opposite direction to me and she lives close enough to the restaurant to walk to it.

19 out of 20 of the attendees are people that I used to work with in the job I had previous to the job I have now.  People that I thought of as friends.  But if they can’t even respond to an email then maybe it’s time for me to rethink the definition of the word friend.  If they had responded and said no, I wouldn’t have cared so much.  But the fact that they didn’t even have the common courtesy to respond is what is making me angry and upset.

So I won’t ask again.  For anything.  I’ll just go back to doing everything for myself and by myself.  It’s easier that way.

Michael Jackson – The Last Time

I just watched an hour long Michael Jackson stage concert on the television called Michael Jackson – The Last Time.  I’m fairly sure I saw Eva Amurri (Susan Sarandon’s daughter) in the audience.  I don’t know when this special was produced.  Maybe before NSync split because they came on stage with him.  As did Slash, Elizabeth Taylor and Chris Tucker.  And the first half of  the concert was all stuff from Jackson 5 days performed by Michael and his five brothers (yes, I know that makes six).

Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to say. 

What I wanted to say is,

Oh.  My.  God.  What an amazing and enormous talent this world has lost.

What do you guys think?

If, and it’s a big if, there was more than one universe, let’s say they all ran parallel to each other, and if an individual existed in more than one universe at the same time, but not necessarily as the same person or even the same gender, (are you with me so far??) do you think they would recognise each other if one of the individuals crossed dimensions into a parallel universe?  And if they did recognise each other, what do you think would happen?  Would they implode or cease to exist?  Would the one individual who crossed dimensions be trapped in the alternate universe?  Or would only the individual crossing dimensions recognise the other them?  If Joders 2009 crossed dimensions and ended up in 1906, would Joders v2009 recognise her alter ego in 1906 and / or vice versa?

It happened again

I had a weird dream about my mum.  But I can’t decide if it was really a dream or I was half asleep and knew something strange was happening but couldn’t wake up.

I had another dream sort of like it just after Christmas last year.

I got home from work on Friday afternoon at about 3:30pm with the intention of having a nap.  I’d had a migraine for 2 days straight.  Woken up with it, gone to bed with it, felt nauseous throughout the day and evening with it, tried to hit it on the head with nurofen plus to no avail.  So by the time 10:30am Friday morning rolled around (I’d already been at work for 3 and half hours by this point) I had made up my mind that I was going to have a nap as soon as I got home.

By 4pm I was tucked up on the lounge chair drifting off to sleep.  I fall asleep easily and just about anywhere.  Laying down, sitting up, doesn’t matter to me, I can nod off at the drop of a hat.  But for many years, I’ve had a problem staying asleep and I’m a notoriously light sleeper.

I have no idea how long I’d been napping when I started dreaming.  I’m going to call it dreaming, although I didn’t see anything.  Mostly when a person dreams there are moving pictures and stuff, right?  I had nothing, just blackness.  I couldn’t see myself laying on the lounge chair, asleep, but I knew that I was there.  I could feel myself there, feel myself asleep and I was aware of exactly what room I was in, in my house and what furniture I would see if I opened my eyes.  Is this weird?  Or do other people have this sensation sometimes too?  This is why I’m not sure if it was a dream or something else in a state of half wakefulness.

So anyway, I’m laying there when I feel the weight of someone sitting at the end of the lounge chair where my feet are.  Just the way I used to feel my mum sitting at the foot of my bed in the middle of the night when I lived at home and when she’d be awake and want to check on me.

And then I heard voices.  My mum saying, “oh, she’s asleep is she?” and my sister answering, “shhhh, she’s asleep, don’t disturb her.”  Now the weird thing is, my sister was at my house on Friday afternoon.  She’d come up around lunch time before I got home to do a little bit of gardening for me and to do a few loads of washing.  Nothing I couldn’t have done myself, but she’s retired and she likes to help me out (and I really appreciate it ).  My point is, I’m fairly sure my sister wasn’t having a conversation with herself – besides I could hear the vacuum cleaner in the background and she wasn’t even in the same room.

Then I felt the weight shift from the end of the lounge chair to halfway along it, and I really, truly felt someone lean over me and then I felt my mother give me gentle kiss on the cheek, just the way she used to do in the middle of the night after she’d checked on me and decided I was okay and it was okay for her to go back to bed.

It was then I decided that I wanted to open my eyes and see my mum.  I wanted to see her smiling at me, like I knew she would be.  And I wasn’t afraid or distressed like I was last time I had this sort of dream about her.  But I couldn’t open my eyes.  I couldn’t move at all.  My eyelids felt like they weighed a tonne and even though I was moving all the muscles I usually move to open my eyes, I couldn’t do it.  And even though I was trying so hard to open my mouth and speak, I couldn’t do that either.  My lips wouldn’t open and my tongue wouldn’t move.  I just wanted to open my eyes, see my mum and talk to her, but I couldn’t.

And then it was over.  By the time I woke up, which could have been 5 minutes later or half an hour later – who knows??) the room was empty and my sister was in the kitchen making a cup of milo.

Gawd, maybe I’m having hallucinations.  Maybe I need to have a brain scan.  You know, just to check that I’ve still got a brain floating around up there somewhere.

I found another Pirelli pic of the dingHo in all her nekkid glory!

WARNING – NOT SAFE FOR WORK – WARNING

Be really careful.  You might need to cover your face with your hands and look at it from between your fingers, lest you go blind.  It’s completely untouched, unairbrushed and unphotoshopped….

Spam (and I’m not talking about the stuff in a tin)

I hate spam and like I said, I’m not talking about the processed meat in a tin variety of spam (though I’m not too keen on it either).  I’m talking about the annoying crap that ends up in the spam folder of my inbox and the spam file on this here, my blog.

Lately I’ve been bombarded by spam email from the Commonwealth Bank of Australia beseeching me to check my account by clicking on a link they include in the email.  If you’re silly enough to click on it, it takes you to a site that will steal your personal details including passwords (apparently be measuring your key strokes or something like that) and will then try to access your online banking accounts. 

I’ve also had a stack of spam emails wanting to sell me Viagra.  Which would be great if I had a penis.  And suffered from erectile dysfunction.

Last month when I called one of my Whorelando phiction chapters “On the Road to Russia” I was hit with dozens and dozens of spammy things all in Russian from Russian IP addresses.  Couldn’t read any of them of course.  They could have been trying to sell me a Russian Mail Order Bride for all I know.  Again, very useful for a straight woman.  I always wanted a mail order bride.

Then a couple of days ago I found this little gem…

I found torkee.wordpress.com very informative.  The article is professionally written and I feel like the author knows the subject very well.  torkee.worpress.com keep it that way.

The post the comment was in relation to?  How about Santiago Cabrera is a hot piece.  Yeah, that’s the most professional article I’ve ever written.  And I’m a total expert on Santiago Cabrera.  Thanks spam guy!  (Oh, and I’ll do my very best to continue to be professional and knowledgable.)

Here We Go Again – Tales of Test Drives and Tourists (29)

17 November 2008 – 9am

Daners:  Well, that’s a fine way to greet a friend!

Joders:  Daners!  You made it!

Daners:  You know I always wanted to go to Russia.  When you told me that’s where you were headed next and asked me to join you guys, there’s no way I wasn’t coming!

Anners and Wanda:  Daners!  I missed you!

Anners, Wanda and Daners hug each other excitedly.

Joders:  Okay guys, there’ll be plenty of time for celebrating later on.  We need to collect our luggage and check into the hotel.  (To Daners)  Did you get us all into the hotel I asked about?

Daners:  (smiling)  I did.  It’s spectacular Joders.  Just wait till you guys see it.

Mystic:  What hotel are we booked in to?

Joders:  The Hotel Baltschug Kempinski.

Slapparr:  Means absolutely nothing to me, what so ever.

Joders:  That might just be my pronunciation.  I don’t speak Russian very well.

The rest of the group look at Joders from under a collective raised eyebrow.

Joders:  Okay, I don’t speak Russian at all.

Viggo:  I think you’re all going to like it.

Joders:  And as I was saying, we need to get our luggage, check in to the hotel and then get started on the days activities.  What have you got planned for us, Daners?

Daners:  There’s lots of sight seeing.  The Kremlin, the Winter Palace.  I thought momentarily about a tour to see Lenin’s Mausoleum.  But the lines are huge and it takes 4 hours just to get in the door.  Besides, it’s a bit gross if you ask me.  Who wants to see a dead guy?  Ewwwww!  But there’s plenty of stuff to do.  And Whorelando has got his LandDrover test drive later on as well.

Whorelando:  Ooooh!  I’m so excited!  I almost forgot about the test drive.

Viggo:  I suppose it’s difficult to remember when all the blood is pooled in the wrong head.

Whorelando:  You’re a fine one to talk, smart arse.

Viggo laughs, hooks his arm around Whorelando’s neck and steers him in the direction of the luggage carousel.

Joders:  Where’s Jennifer?  Couldn’t she make it?

Daners:  Wellllll, it was more a matter of she didn’t want to be disturbed.  You know she’s been in Canada on the Supernatural Set  for God only knows how long?

Wanda:  She’s not back yet?!

Daners:  Nope.  And it doesn’t look like she’s coming back any time soon.  Man, she’s having the time of her life!  And the Supernatural boys, well let’s just say they’re having a pretty good time too!

As the group approach the luggage carousel, Jaded falls into step next to Joders.

Bruno is a Genius :)

Bruno the Gay Austrian Fashionista has just graced the land down under with his presence.

I was interested to see what he would wear to the premiere of his movie.  He was a Queen’s Guard at the London premiere, a bull at the Spanish premiere, he wore lederhosen in Paris (though I think lederhosen would have been more appropriate in Germany).  I thought maybe he’d be a kangaroo in Australia.

I caught a quick glimpse of his get up on yahoo news today while I was at work.  At first I thought he was Ned Kelly with his armour.  Then I wondered if it was a rip off of Russell Crowe’s Gladiator.  But no.  I was mistaken.  He was dressed as a Knight in Shining Armour, complete with his Trusty Steed.

I have absolutely no idea what this has to do with Australia, but I guess no one ever said Bruno had to make sense, did they?

I saw a couple of interviews with him today on the telly.  One of them went something like this,

Journalist:  Tell me, Bruno, Aussie blokes need some advice.  We can’t compete with the likes of the French and Italian blokes.  How do we impress the girls?

Bruno:  (in a pseudo Austrian accent)  You need to look to your women.  Like Nicole Kidman.  You know Nicole?

Journalist:  Our Nic!

Bruno:  She is a fantastic actress.  So talented.  I mean, did you see her wedding video to Tom Cruise.  She was almost believable!

Makes me wonder what Bruno would make of the infamous Sydney balcony pics of Whorelando and Moronduuhhh.  I mean, if Nicole Kidman was almost believeable and she won an Oscar, I’m almost certain Whorely will be up for best actor in a leading role come time for the Academy Awards next year.

And the second interview was a bit like this,

Journalist:  How are dealing with fame beyond your wildest expectations?

Bruno:  Ich trying not to be the same kind of celebrity as one of those kind of “look at me” celebrities.  You know, like Paris Hilton.  She is everything I despise in people.  She dresses to get attention, she’s a real name dropper.  Orlando Bloom told me that.  And she’s fame obsessed, she’s always on the red carpet, next to me, blocking the paparazzi from shooting me and she’s really bitchy.  Which a lot of sluts are.

Hmmmm, there are so many other names that would just as easily fit that description.

I know that Bruno rubs some of you the wrong way.  And that’s okay.  He’s a bit cringeworthy.  But I like him better than Ali G and much better than Borat.

Joseph Jackson is Making Me Angry

That’s his name, isn’t it?  Michael Jackson’s father?  I’m so pissed off by this man right now, I can’t even remember his name.

Every time I see a picture of him since Michael passed away I just want to punch him in the head.  He comes off as being a self righteous prick.

What he needs to remember is that he has money and has a bloody mansion and a posh car and bodyguards and drivers and so on and so forth because of the talent and hard work of his children, especially the one he lost just a few days ago.

If it wasn’t for Jackson 5 and Michael Jackson, Joseph would be a retired steel worker.  Not that there’s anything wrong with working at a blue collar job, earning your income doing an honest days work.  I just think Joseph Jackson needs to remember where he came from.  And he could probably try shutting his big phat trap.  Just for something different.

Look at this picture….

of Johnny Depp

and tell me it doesn’t remind you of…..