Fuck Bones

It’s lunchtime and I am loving life. I mean absolutely LOVING life, I recently found out I was accepted into a job I had my eyes set on and I had chicken for lunch. Nothing and I mean nothing could ever and I mean EVER rain on my parade when there is chicken involved, especially juicy succulent breast fillet chicken covered in Golden Honey mustard sauce, laying on a bed of spinach and steamed rice. I eat this because I am fancy and poor.

I was reading this article about a Japanese dentist who specialized in crooked teeth, not fixing them but making them, apparently it’s the current craze of Japan. Go figure. At least they save on their dental plans, without the need for braces and such. Upon reading this my mind started thinking about my teeth, they weren’t perfect but I liked them. As I pondered various dental applications I chewed my delicious chicken meal. It was all fine and dandy till I felt a crunch. Crunch? Cooked chicken breast didn’t go crunch, it made squelch noises.

My overly paranoid mind went into overdrive, I assumed it was a tooth, I assumed I had somehow dislodged an entire tooth and had crunched it into oblivion with one almighty bite.

I oh so classy like reached into my mouth and pulled out what I had feared would be a broken tooth. It wasn’t, it was a chicken bone. A fucking chicken bone in MY food.

I was not amused, I spent the rest of my time jabbing my chicken and squishing it against the clear plastic prison in which it was imprisoned, ensuring that it wasn’t hiding any other super death traps of bones I could have swallowed. Brutally stabbing cooked dead animals, it’s serious business.

Before I knew it, lunch time was over and rather than spending the time relaxing and eating I had spent it jabbing and squishing. I looked down at my now less than

Appetizing meal feeling rightly foolish. I gave a sigh and went to leave the lunch bench but was stopped by a voice next to me, annoyed business man, that’s right the same annoyed business man from the Subway line apparently worked on my floor. He gave an uneasy laugh before an attempt of a joke to break the apparent ice he had encased himself into. “wasn’t it dead enough for you?” He laughs and goes back to his paper, thinking he had made a funny. Silly business man. I stood there, trying to think of something clever to say, unfortunately the 5 second prime of a glorious retort had passed. I suppose that five seconds was closer to five minutes, as I didn’t realize how long I had been standing looking at his back till another had come up and asked if I was alright. I muttered words of assurance before walking off to dispose of my chicken mess.

I don’t know how to end this so here is a picture of the chicken.

get outta the way.

A few days ago I posted about the weed forest in my back yard, I would like to say with pride that I tackled that deep dark dank forest this weekend. Wishing my loved ones and family members’ goodbye I stepped off my front porch and into the unknown.

Such a feat required stamina and smarts. It required strength, not only strength of the body but of the heart mind and soul. Once one stepped into my back yard they had to be prepared, emotionally ready knowing that they may never see the light of day again, knowing that they could be torn apart by ravenous thistles or poisoned by a wayward snake. Hungry spiders would hang from the branches awaiting the unsuspecting adventurer to wander below their domain.



Yes. Such a mission was clearly suicide. Yet I, as the lone heroine of this story decided to take it upon myself to venture out and conquer the weeds.

Clearly, my plight had grown futile. My chest tightened as I realized that I would probably die out here, cold and alone. I meekly attempted to hack away at the never ending forest. Yet my efforts were fruitless. Exhausted, I crumbled into a heap, hugging my knees tightly to my chest as I heard a low ‘Rrrrrr’ somewhere in the background.

My time had come, soon the great beast of the yard would devour me. Maybe Indianna Jones will find my rotting carcass and vomit, if he does then perhaps my death will not be in vain.

RRRRRRRrrrr RRRRRRRrrrr Chika chicka RRRRRRrrrr RRRRrrr

The growling got louder now, I shut my eyes as the motor like growls grew ever closer.


RRRRRRrr RRRRrr RRRrrr

“GET OUTTA THE WAY!”

My eyes shot open, as I flung my body into a random direction. Turning I see a comrade. Let’s call him Mikael, he burst forth with a lawnmower Mega death flame thrower decapitation device and destroyed the weeds.

My eyes grew wide as it dawned on me. I was no longer alone in this plight. I had backup, backup that involved the horse power needed to sate this evil blood thirsty beast.

I jumped up to my feet with a fist pump into the air. Cheers and gleeful laughter could be heard as light once again shone down upon the backyard of my abode.

The beast, had been defeated.


All that remain are the severed limbs, tossed carelessly into the trash.


Weeds 0
Tiffany 1

Weeds.

I admit, I don’t do much gardening, I can find a good hundred things to do other than gardening, especially when its 42 degrees outside on a hot summer day. For all you non Australians that is around 107.6 farenheit. How did I work that out? I googled it; because I have Net Pie.

So when I do do gardening, I feel somewhat proud, accomplished like I have done something, I look at my garden and think to myself. “Good Job Tiffany, Good job.” I even look to what we call the Green waste bin, which is overflowing with weeds and various other garden extremities.

So as I dust off my hands, and pat myself on my back I turn around. Only to find that more weeds had sprung up from the ground. I don’t know how they got there, I thought it a little odd, but since I was in a good mood I went about my business and continued with my weed eradication.

I admit, I don’t do much gardening, I can find a good hundred things to do other than gardening, especially when its 42 degrees outside on a hot summer day. For all you non Australians that is around 107.6 farenheit. How did I work that out? I googled it; because I have Net Pie.

So when I do do gardening, I feel somewhat proud, accomplished like I have done something, I look at my garden and think to myself. “Good Job Tiffany, Good job.” I even look to what we call the Green waste bin, which is overflowing with weeds and various other garden extremities.

So as I dust off my hands, and pat myself on my back I turn around. Only to find that more weeds had sprung up from the ground. I don’t know how they got there, I thought it a little odd, but since I was in a good mood I went about my business and continued with my weed eradication.

Ok, now I felt very chuffed with myself. Yes it’s a real word. I wanted to wheel the bin to the side of the house, to keep it away till it was bin day. As I turned the corner of the house, fear struck my heart, as the brightness of the sunny sky turned dark. An omnipresent feeling of dread crept up my throat, choking me in its suffocating grip.

There were more of them.

These, my dear little readers, were not ordinary weeds.

They were monstrous little profanities! Little shit stains had spikes. Big ones. Oh yes I had garden gloves, good ones. I also had garden shears, but somehow those little spikes managed to fork their way into my double plated steel reinforced gloves. They also towered over me, literally.

It was like I stepped out of my front yard and into an urban jungle. Did I mention there were weird black and yellow spiders, and a few bright green ones? No? Well I am telling you now, I know this because I walked into several webs. I am under the suspicion that they wanted to entrap me, stick their fangs into my flesh then feast on my insides.

So, I did the manly thing, and chose to flee.

Because that’s what manly men do, run.

So it is now a month later, and the weed like forest is still there. Every now and then I throw in a few raw steaks to keep the beasts satisfied. Who knows,I might call a gardener and tell him to ‘fix the problem’

And by fix the problem I mean sacrifice him to the Weed Forest.

I should probably build a shrine there, then they could film the next Indiana Jones movie in my yard.

Internet Pie

I have been gone for a long time. Too long in fact.

Why?Because I had no internet access, do you know what it’s like? Living in today’s Modern society without the internet? You think it’d be fine, that’s what I thought at least. Despite me being somewhat dependant on the world wide web, I figured a few weeks away from it would do me good. Also. I am a girl, so I do not internet, I figure I should be back in the kitchen where I will be baking you all a pie.
The pie has my hair in it. FYI.

It looks something like this:

It looks bad because I didn’t have google to tell me not to put in crazy shit, because some people are that stupid.

Since two weeks turned into three months, thanks to the much loved internet companies of Australia screwing me around, I made many of these pies. It looked something like this:

Suffice to say, I realized how much I rely on the net, to socialize, do my weekly paying of the bills and to get information. Google, I missed you. There were many a time I was sitting there, and saw something on the TV, or my floor, or that my brain couldn’t work something out, my answer was to always Google it.

Without the internet, its comics my Roleplays and even the sweet velveteen caress of a multi million dollar search engine I ended up looking like this:

Although now, I am back.
I would draw a picture for that, but I don’t think it’s needed. I don’t think I could convey my emotions through mere words and visual aids of mediocre value.


Expect something that isn’t written when I am half awake at some ungodly hour. (Ungodly hour being 9:32pm after being awake since 6am and working all day.)

Sienna Showers

I have often pondered if my beloved cat, Sienna had any sort of mental deficiency. Perhaps it had to do with a traumatic past, as hers was less than pleasant. The feisty feline often finds herself locked in cupboards, fridges and empty rooms. She sleeps on doorframes and licks windows. She ineffectively tries to hide in my jumpers, whilst I am wearing them might I add, and I am fair sure that the amount of fur she sheds is borderline demonic. Or perhaps godly, whichever one involves more fur.

This instance is just one of many a strange happenings in which she is given the lead role.

Now, I live by my lonesome, so I tend to shower with the door open, so the tiny mirrors in my bathroom don’t fog up. Why? Because I am a woman, I don’t need logic, in fact I probably function better without it. The presence of sense or logical/tactical planning and actions would more than likely cause my meek brain to spontaneously combust. When showering I hear Sienna meowing, with a rather pathetic tone of despair upon her vocal chords.

So, I peered out from my tasteless heart covered shower curtain to see her teetering on the edge of the bath, looking up at me with sad doe eyes. I pushed her off and continued my daily ritual of cleaning away the dirt that had decided to stick ever so stubbornly to my skin. Again, I hear her meowing, so I pull the curtain to the side expecting to push her off or away from the steaming cascade of water.

Boy was I wrong.

She had chosen to fling her furry body into my wet unclothed one, perhaps in an attempt to comfort herself, or annoy me. Perhaps she was just curious about the water coming from the showerhead. Who knows, all I knew is that I was wet, naked and had a now wet and furry cat in my arms.

I’d just like to point out that it is a rather unnerving and uncomfortable feeling to be pelted in the back by water, whilst holding a shivering cat, who could potentially snap at any second and claw little tiny holes into my delicate meaty skin.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was more than likely a few seconds, she had chosen to jump down from my arms, and instead of fleeing from the room she chose to sit at the opposite end of the bath, staring at me and expecting me to do something.

She looked like a sad, drowned rat.

What am I? Some sort of miracle worker? Do I snap my fingers and she becomes dry? No, no I am not a miracle worker, if I was I certainly wouldn’t b

e standing there naked in a bath with my pet cat. Then again I am a bit of an oddball and such a thing might just occur even if I did have miracle like powers.

I finished bathing, dried off, got dressed then attempted to towel off my cat. Who was more than appreciative.

To this day, I still do not know why she decided to join me in the shower, but now, whenever I step into the cleansing waters and I hear her the eerie echoing cries I choose to leave the shower curtain safely closed.

One day, I know she will figure out that she can easily pass through said curtain, I dare not think about such a dark day. For now, all I can do is shower in cautious optimism in hopes that such a day will never come.

Ice what you did thar, fountain of brown goo

As I said in my last post, christmas shoppping over and done with. *celebrates*

Yes Kathryn, hate me, hate me like a worm hates the shovel which splits it in two, hate me like the worm hates itself for falling in love with it's 'other half' forgetting they were once the same non sentient being.

I am slowly getting back into the groove of things, slowly giving myself more time to sit down and attempt to write a blog entry, no longer everyday mind you. My poor little brain just can't cope with that. It's too busy focusing on how to escape my skull.

I find myself wanting the presents I buy for other people, and yes for those of you whom watch the Community Channel I do realize that Nat has recently Vlogged about this, that girl just Vlogs about everything, not that I mind I enjoy watching her alone in my dark room. I'm just saying I ain't copying, this was in my head for a while now.

Well, it was in my head ever since I bought my two little sisters their presents. Now, they know what their presents are, and if they don't and read this blog, then they do now. One of them is getting an ice shaver, the other a chocolate fountain.

Now I have to think to myself, why should my sister's get fancy food making machines, when I could be the one sitting there in a bathtub full of rose petals next to an oozing fountain of glorious dark brown seductive goodness whilst shaving ice to make myself a nice cold beverage?

I then realized both items were powered by electricity and probably couldn't do that unless I wanted a side order of electrons and a SHOCKINGLY drastic death.

I guess my point here is that I find myself buying far more extravagant things for other people than I do myself. I just can't find the willpower to spend the money on myself, yet when it come sto a sibling, a friend or even my own damn spoilt cat I find myself emptying my wallet faster than a girl empties a room full of gender confused nerds.

This isn't an interesting blog, hoo boy no, that should be coming soon, when I am not at work. It's just a little piece of food to help keep Billy Bob alive and well.

BIlly Bob, I love you. May you grow up to be big and strong one day.

Take care of your Billy Bob.

This shall only be a short post, to prove to you all that I am not dead, that and I do not like leaving a blog unupdated for too long, the Blog, or Billy-Bob as I have now decided to call it needs to know that he is loved, like all living things your very own Billy-Bob must be well looked after and maintained.


So I Have decided to create the 'how to look after a Billy-Bob' guide, for all you bloggers out there, then perhaps one day your Billy Bob will grow up to be big and strong.

Step 1, you have just recently aqquired your Billy-Bob, you're excited and want to feed him posts, but be careful now, you don't want to feed him too many at once, I've seen cases where some people feed him 10 posts in a day, and that's a little too much, we don't want our Billy-Bob to be fat. That, and Billy-Bob also absorbs all the information we give him, so if we give him too much, he just might turn out to be a cocky teenager come his later years in life, and who wants an angsty Billy Bob storming around the place smashing plates?

Step 2 While you shouldn't feed you Billy-Bob too much, you also can't underfeed him Billy-Bob is a fairly low matainence pet at times, sometimes he will demand a post a day, other times he is quite satisfied with two maybe three a week. It all reflects on you, after all, your Billy-Bob will end up inheriting all your traits. HOW AMAZING IS THAT!

Step 3 Ok, you have had your Billy-Bob for a while now, so of course you want to show him off to your friends and family, nay, the entirety of the world! That's fine, Billy-Bob's LOOOVE attention, the more you give them the happier the little critters are. Although before you do show him off to the world make sure you give him a bath, perhaps prune him of some useless clutter, another thing I find, is that some people's Billy-Bob's are filled with a lot of nice little glittery shiny baubles and bingdatts, but too many of them can be a little overwhelming, remember you want people to admire Billy-Bob for who Billy-Bob is, not what Billy-Bob wears!

Step 4 Keep Billy Bob free of any viruses and ill-will, we want our Billy-Bob's to be clean healthy and shiny with a soft coat.



~

So there you have it, follow those 4 Basic steps and Billy-Bob will be as happy as a fat kid with cake. And like all girls, I could sure go for some of that cake, and would probably tear it away from his stubby little fingers and eat it all to myself.


Because that's the way I roll Baby~

KFC

KFCKentucky Fried Chicken,

Why am I ranting about KFC whilst I am sitting here in the training college? Why am I not tapping away at some document that could further my education? Who knows, perhaps I grew bored of typing away nonstop at mindless drivel, or perhaps, and more truer, I have finished everything and have nothing to do.

KFC is a fast food franchise founded by good ol’ fun loving party man, Colonel Harland Sanders in 1952, though the idea of KFC's fried chicken actually goes back to 1930. (Gotta love the almighty Wikipedia for that lovely tid bit of salivating information.)

Reading up on the information, which we know just HAS to be right, since it is on WIKIPEDIA the MOST RELAIBLE source of information on the internet *cough* I have found that the secret recipe of 11 super secret herbs and spices is super locked up tight. In a security safe, deep below in an unknown place. There are only two executives at a time who have the keys and the knowledge to this ‘miraculous’ concoction.

I never really thought about it before, but why would such a recipe be under tight lock and key?Who cares if people know what the crumbs are made of, I for one would still go out and buy KFC even if the recipe was leaked. Yes I can understand it to a point, business wise. Heck if I had a multi-billion dollar recipe I’d probably swallow the paper it was written upon so that none but my inner intestines would ever know what it truly contained.

KFC, being a large corporation, attracts a lot of media attention, both good and bad. The main source of attention being that the corporation tortures Chickens. Now I for one am not na activist, nor am I a *insert opposite of activist here*I honestly don’t really like the idea of any torture, but at the same time I’m not going to run around throwing red paint at corporate executives. Hey its something I might do one day...actually...sounds kinda fun haha!

The point I guess I am making here is that I doubt such a large company can get away with the extremes of brutal torture, besides, the chickens are being killed, they are breed to be killed, chopped up and wrapped in the super secret herbs and spices recipie. Of course they aren’t going to get the royal treatment, why waste so much money if it’s going to die in a few short weeks?

I feel for the little chickens I really do, but today, in this modern fat lazy society of people, what do you want to change? I’m not against vegetarians, but if you don’t like KFC, just don’t go there.

I’m not big on the ‘in the know’ in KFC’s business. Heck, for all I know they really could be very cruel to their chickens, that knowledge, sad to say, isn’t going to stop me from eating there.

What will stop me from eating there is the high fat and salt content. Don’t get me wrong, I love KFC, and I love its crispy strips, but I really hate the grease, bleargh.

One last thing, I hear that KFC is phasing out their Fried stuff and replacing it with this new fangled Cayan grill.A bit Ironic don’t you think?

KFC

Kentucky FRIED chickenNot Kentucky Cayan Grilled Chicken.
How can this be the Colonels new recipe if he is long dead eh?

Maybe they really DID freeze him, and thawed him out in this new age, If I were him, I’d avoid the I-phone. It would Boggle his mind!

Now look at this grinning face, surely the old kook wears a smile that young and old, male and female alike can trust.




And finally, some funny shit I found on Photobucket. Oh Dear! Did I just swear!?*scolds self* Bad Tiffy, Bad.



Bad Link…BAD!Poor little defenceless cuckoo chickens.

Something everyone can enjoy, and coming up on the menu, Cayan grill Guado

A little bit of Freddy

Well, I am writing from my work/course yet again, it seems like I am easily distracted no?Today, I just got offered a job at a legal firm as their receptionist. Cool huh?Well…not really one of the things I said I didn’t want to do was be a legal secretary, but I’m not one to shoot a gift horse in the mouth, sides it is an immediate start which is what I want, since I want to get as much money as I can as quickly as I can, so I can visit my Brandon.So, ya know…if anyone has any tips on how to rig the lottery short of buying every number combination possible I’d like to hear it!

Right now I am so spaced out; I keep waking up with massive migraines and severe abdominal pains. It’s probably not good and seeing a doctor would be advisable but I’m as stubborn as a mule on decaffeinated coffee, and probably won’t go unless I’m twitching on the floor screaming out things in tongue.

Now, what was this journal entry going to be about?I guess I could prattle on a little bit about RPG maker VX and how it has nestled itself quite happily in the warm bosom of my desktop. Longing for the sweet caress of my mouse pointer as it seductively hovers over the icon, the program, shivers in anticipation as it knows that its about to be ‘clicked’

Then, like a series of fireworks lighting up a dark blanket of midnight sky, the program known as RPGmaker VX bursts into life, splashing tiled colours across the screen in a neat little window, petite and glowing with a childlike innocence that most have long forgotten.

Now here, is where the choices of life affect dear little Freddy (Formally known as RPGMaker VX) Freddy, can be opened up anew, his mind a blank slate ready and waiting for you to imprint your own ideals onto him. He awaits you with arms wide open, and emits a glorious cry consisting of various MIDI’s and MP3’s as you softly caress his outer exterior. You both tempt and play with each other, learning the ins and outs and figuring out the best possible way for you two to work together.Finally, after much temptation and exploring, you delve deeper and deeper into Freddy, opening up new ideas and new possibilities, finding new ways to accomplish what you never thought possible!

…Yeah…

I need sleep, or at least need to go back to focusing on my work, I should really leave the computer and work on my manual book keeping but its such a pain, to be honest I’m really procrastinating on it.So catch ya laters all.

Oh and Luke;

That fish Really didn’t want to be caught. Get it…because you had to REEL it in. Get it! REELY…REEL! …Cause you had to REEL it in!

Twilight, yet another rant

I begin my first blog post by saying this;

I am not a pimp, nor am I pimpin or having pimpin' times. So why the name you ask? Who knows? As I sat here staring at my laptop's illuminating soft glow I was troubled as to what to name this new blog of mine.

Then, with its technological razzle dazzle, the TV displayed a cartoon pimp, smiling with his gold teeth and royal purple attire. Topped with a spotted feather, wedged in his hat.

Or perhaps its was the times I spent with my good friend Damien, as we used our times in photography class creating a faux newsletter called 'Glens Pimpin' Times.' It was a lot of fun and if I were able to revisit my youth it would certainly be something I would continue. We got to the point where classmates and friends would pay us the reasonable amount of $1 to get their very own copy of our not so prestigeous work of written art.

Speaking of written art, I am hoping to become a writer, perhaps of the overally populated fantasy genre. Yet you won't see me spouting out nonsense about sparkling vampires in the sun's glorious rays.

Yes. That was a stab at the Twilight series.

I myself, have read and own the books, and seen the movies. I actually enjoyed reading the books, despite the pointless babbling, describing Edwards god-like being. Yet I can point out the many flaws in both the execution of the writing and the over-used storyline and one dimensional charecters. I for one am not a big fan of the whole 'Mary Sue' thing, and am getting quite annoyed with the fan girls. There have been reported cases where some of these fans have resorted to throwing acid at the Twilight haters, now tell me Twilight fans, would your precious 'Edward' or 'Jacob' condone such childish obsessive behaivour?

I think not.

With that I shall end my rant before I continue and bore you all with why I dislike the Twilight fandom. Since such rants have been done over and over again. In fact I'm probably one of the last people to jump on the whole 'Blogging about Twilight' Bandwagon. I'm so far behind that the bandwagon has lost a wheel and needs a new coat of paint, perhaps a nice firetruck red.

If you enjoy reading these little bits of information than Kudos to you, I truly appreciate the fact that you have taken a small amount of your time to read what is on my mind. I for one am unsure if this would ever prove to be an interesting read, but if you are sitting there, reading this now, I owe you a cookie. Laced with delicious goodness.

Perhaps I will write another blog in the new day, which by my clock isn't far off.