An eventful weekend

The colour scheme for our new house is going to be white with black, and highlights of a soft pink. There won't be much pink, just the odd candle or vase here and there, but it will lift it from being purely black and white.

Anyway. My current colour scheme is cream and brown with highlights of green, which is obviously not the same thing. All of my furniture is chocolate brown. So I had two choices. Spend around $20,000 buying new black furniture, or try to repaint all my current stuff, and buy a few pieces I can't repaint (like bookshelves - they're just laminated chipboard and the time and effort required to paint them isn't worth their low value). We're getting a new king size bed, which is going to be white quilted leather, but that's really the only major piece we're getting. The lounges we have now are cream leather, and while they won't match exactly, I don't think they will significantly detract from the overall look. We'll keep them for a couple more years and then upgrade them.

So I decided to go with the repaint option. My parents came and picked up my furniture last weekend, and William and I went out this weekend to do all the sanding and prepping so my father could spray everything.

We decided to take the cats with us, because we were staying overnight and didn't want to leave them alone all weekend. One of the cats (Alex) has been out to my parents' place before, but the little one (Fyodor) hasn't ever been anywhere. My parents have two poodles and my old cat George, who I didn't take with me when I moved out because he's used to roaming around the countryside, and he would have hated the city. George is massive. He is the size of an old computer tower when he sits on his back haunches, and his head is the size of a small plate. Huge cat. Alex and George got along well the last time, but I was worried about Fyo.

I should have been more worried about actually getting Fyo out to my parents' place, and not so worried about what he'd do when he got there. We put him in his cage (with some difficulty - he hates going in the cage. Alex, on the other hand, loves his cage and will sit in there whenever we leave the door open), and I had made the decision that I was going to cradle him on my lap if he got too worried about being in there. Whenever I'm sitting anywhere, he will jump up onto my lap and bury his head in the crook of my elbow (faceplant!), so I thought if I let him sit on my lap in the car, he would be less worried.

We got onto the highway and he was crying and crying and crying. So I took him out and he was sitting more or less happily on my lap. He was a bit worried about all the power poles and buildings zooming past the window, so I took his blanket out of his cage and put it over the top of him and just kept patting him underneath it. He sleeps under the blankets of our bed, so I knew he wouldn't freak out about being covered over.

Well, apparently he liked the idea of not being able to see even less than he liked the idea of being in the car. So he decided to pee. On me. I felt a warmth on my leg and told William to pull over when he could. And he kept peeing. And peeing. And peeing. I swear to fsm he was peeing for a good 2 minutes! There was so much pee! And it was all in my lap and all over the front seat! Of the car I am trying to sell! You can never get cat pee smell out! Argh!

We pulled over and put him back in the cage, and I had to get William to hold a blanket around me while I stripped on the side of the highway. My jeans and underwear were saturated, and I was not happy. The seat was saturated too. I managed to sort of clean myself with bottled water and put new pants on, but I was still extremely worried I was going to get some weird disease from having cat pee on my lady bits. My parents' place was still 40 minutes away.

I put a tarp on the seat so I could sit back down without absorbing more cat pee, and we started off again. Fyo was now howling in his cage because he was stressed, and didn't understand why he was back in there after having been comfortable on my lap. We called my parents and told them what had happened, and asked them to have the washing machine ready and a bucket of hot soapy water for the car. And then Fyo decided it was all too much for him and decided to do a shit in his cage. Which he couldn't bury nor get away from. And it smelled nasty! We had to drive for the next half hour with all the windows down, and the sound of the wind was further freaking Fyo out. He was now definitely not a happy camper. I have never heard a cat howl so much.

All the howling and commotion had now upset Alex too, so he started howling as well. He will usually just get in his cage and go to sleep, but he must have thought something awful was happening if Fyo was so upset, so he was getting upset too.

We got to my parents' place and I jumped in the shower. I then had to bathe Fyo, who by this time was covered in his own shit. Lovely. I put all my clothes in the wash and gave the cage to William to clean out. He also had to take the seat completely out of the car in order to try and clean it. Fun fun.

After I bathed Fyo, we let Alex and him loose in the house. One of the poodles, Amy, loves cats. Fyo has never seen a dog before, and Alex has only had experience with the other poodle, Tiffany, who is less crazy. Amy couldn't understand why the cats didn't want to play with her. They were completely freaked out! Poor tiny Fyo. He was traumatised. A scary car ride, then a scary bath, and then scary dogs. He was not a happy camper. We ended up locking both the cats in the spare room with their beds, a litter tray and some food, so they could de-stress for a bit.

As for the furniture, we got most of it ready for painting. We sanded everything, cleaned it all, and then managed to get through most of the undercoating before we ran out. So we have to go back out next weekend to finish the two pieces which missed out, and to top coat everything. I hope it all works out. The furniture should be a nice glossy black by the end of it.

Lesson learned, however. When we drove back home, we kept Fyo in his cage the whole time and ignored his cries. He eventually went to sleep. I'm never letting a cat inside my car ever again - unless it's inside a cage! Only time will tell if the cat pee smell goes away :(

Biggest moron ever!

Duuuuuuudes! You will not believe what I did! So retarded I am surprised they haven't immediately changed the modern Oxford to show a photo of my face next to that term.

So. It's exam time. I had one last week, which I sort of studied for, but not really. I got into the exam and, whilst I knew what I had to do, because I hadn't really studied enough, I sort of blathered around in my answers and ended up running out of time. So while I'm sure I passed, I don't think I would have gotten a 6 (HA) or 7 (VHA).

So the next exam, I was determined to do better in. I arranged for the day before off work, so I would have 3 whole days to study before the exam. I got up early each day, and went through all of my materials and took countless notes (or rather, 40,000+ words of notes). I was prepared, and I was going to kick arse!

Last night, after going over the final piece of information, I packed my bags up (it's an open book, but don't let that fool you - if you don't know what you're talking about, you won't find it in the books anyway), and then decided to make sure I knew what room I was in (I was pretty sure, but wanted to be certain). I went into my student account to look it up.

And then saw the most disturbing thing ever. I felt like I had been punched in the guts.

I had studied for the wrong exam!

Arggggghhhhhhhh!

I very nearly had a nervous breakdown. I don't know how this happened. I just can't work it out. In my calendar, it's entered as the correct exam. On my exam schedule, it's the correct exam. They haven't changed the dates. But for some reason, I had it in my head that it was the other exam. The one that's not until next week.

It was 11pm. I briefly contemplated pulling an all-nighter and trying to study for it. But my head was full of the other subject, and I am not so young that I can stay up all night with full mental capacity any more. Besides, this subject is the same subject that I had that piece of assessment for that I didn't know about until the night before. The one that, somehow, I managed to do in under 5 hours and get a 7 for. This subject is cursed. I couldn't do it again. I needed to be able to have the time to go over all of the information properly. Sure, I could have tried to wing it like I did with that assessment piece, but I just wasn't sure I could. Plus, I didn't have all of the books and materials I would need to take with me into the exam. I usually need to slaughter half a forest before an exam, and I hadn't printed out the materials because I didn't think I needed them until next week.

So, I decided the only thing I could do was defer. I looked through all of the emergency get-out-of-jail free cards, and the only thing I could reasonably get away with was an illness. But I needed something that was undetectable and untestable. So I decided to fake a migraine. I get them all the time anyway, so it's not like I don't know what they're about. And you can't really test someone for one.

So I skipped the exam today and went to the doctor. By this time, I had an actual headache from all the stress, so I wasn't exactly lying. She filled out my form, and I will now have to sit a deferred exam - right when we're moving house. But at least that's better than trying to sit an exam I hadn't even cracked a book on!

I can only imagine what would have happened if I hadn't decided to check the room details. What if I'd shown up in the morning with all my books for the other subject, and then only realised when I got into the room that I was sitting the other exam! I think I definitely would have had a mental breakdown. At least I might have been able to claim special consideration, I suppose!

On the up side - I now have another week to study for the exam I was already studying for, and I have more time to study for the exam that is the day after that one (I was concerned I would have no time for it), and when I get the date for the deferred exam, I will at least know which one I am studying for this time, and can give it the attention it deserves!

*an update on the snip*

William went to see the dermatologist today. He thinks it is some skin condition which means the scar tissue from the tear will continually break open. But he also says it's fairly common amongst uncircumcised men, and 90% of cases are treatable by circumcision - so yay! Win for me! He took a biopsy (ouch!) just to make sure, so William will find out in a week if it really is that. If it is, he will be able to get the surgery done if he wants it. The dermatologist did say there was still a small chance the problem would resurface further up the shaft after the circumcision, but he didn't think it was a very big risk (90% of cases solved). So yeah. Now I just have to gently talk him into accepting the potential risks from the surgery. So far, I have been very careful not to try to push him in any direction. But there's hope!

An update on the snip

William went to see the specialist. He was very reluctant, and he couldn't find a reason for the tearing. He suggested William might have a skin condition causing the skin not to heal properly, and he thought if he underwent the operation, the problem might just move further up the shaft. So he said he wouldn't consider the operation until after William had seen a dermatologist.

He also said if it turns out it's a skin condition, and it can be treated, he won't perform the surgery, even if William wants it done. He said William would be hard pressed to find anyone who would. He gave him a list of the complications and difficulties that can arise with adult circumcision, and has all but talked William out of wanting it done.

However, if he goes to see the dermatologist, and it's not a skin condition, then the urologist will perform the surgery, albeit reluctantly.

So I guess I can just hope it's not a skin condition and can't be treated, because if it can be, William has basically said he's not going to get it done, because he doesn't think the benefits outweigh the potential complications.

About time

Wow. I can't believe a post about rape garners no comments at all. Apparently heinous crimes don't get my few readers worked up enough to comment.

Maybe this will. I just read a news article about a Venetian town who is fining tourists caught buying counterfeit goods. An Austrian woman bought a fake Louis Vuitton for 7 euros (knowingly), and was then fined 1,000 euros. I'm sure there will be people who are outraged by this. People who think it's just revenue raising, and that there's no harm in counterfeit goods.

In reality, there is a lot of harm in counterfeit goods. And I'm not just talking about the massive companies losing out on revenue, or intellectual property. I'm talking about the behind-the-scenes harm this industry is creating. Did you know that counterfeiters and their crime syndicates deal in human trafficking, child labor, and gang warfare? Did you know that truly horrendous deeds are carried out on the children who work in those factories so you can pay a ridiculously small sum for your counterfeit LV bag? Dana Thomas (who writes for Harper's Bazaar) outlines in this article a raid she was present at where the owners of the factory had broken the children's legs, and then reset them in a position so the children couldn't walk, and thus had to stay at their machines working the whole time. I felt ill when I read that.

And then in this article (apologies for the Facebook link, I can't find a copy of the actual article), Dana goes on to detail even more harrowing details of child labour. Harper's also runs a website about the counterfeit industry, with tips on how to spot fakes.

Of course, there are some who believe Harper's is only promoting this issue to assist in the profit-taking of the big fashion corporations. They probably are. But even so, this is an issue worth acknowledging, and worth doing something about. Child labour is not ok. Exploiting any human being is not ok. And whilst I think targeting the end-consumer, rather than the crime syndicates themselves, might be a little bit unfair, it's clear that targeting the crime syndicates is a losing battle while there is still demand for the product making the manufacture worth the risk. If the practice of fining continues, and people know there is a consequence to buying fakes, and especially if they know the reasons why, the demand will drop and hopefully these crime syndicates will go out of business. And then we can start putting more pressure on the actual fashion houses who are possibly also utilising underpaid labour. Apple and Nike are two examples of big businesses who have had to become more transparent about their manufacturing processes. In the future, I think all fashion houses will need to be more transparent. This is most likely going to push the price up of luxury goods, but I would rather pay a premium for a handbag I know hasn't been made by some poor worker chained to their machine for 20 hours a day.

If you can't afford to buy a designer handbag, don't resort to buying fakes. There are plenty of derivative versions out there created by other companies in legitimate circumstances. Or, you could just save your pennies and buy the real thing, and then feel 10,000 times better every time you carry it around.

Really?! This again?

I just read this article. Honestly, I just can't believe it. What the fuck is wrong with people?

Sex is not consensual if the girl doesn't say no. It's consensual if she says yes! Didn't hear a yes? Then don't fucking have sex with her! Is she too drunk to say no? Then she didn't fucking say yes!!!

Section 349(2) of the Criminal Code (Qld) states that rape is carnal knowledge of a person without the person's consent. Section 348(1) of the Code states "consent" means ‘consent freely and voluntarily given by a person with the cognitive capacity to give the consent’. If someone is drunk, they obviously don't have the cognitive capacity to give the consent! This was further established in R v Camplin (1845) 1 C & K 746; and R v Fletcher (1859) 8 Cox CC 131. It is rape to have carnal knowledge of a woman who has been rendered insensible through liquor, or where she does not resist because her submission is due to the fact that she is drunk. A woman who is insensible is incapable of giving consent.

Further, just because the woman doesn't say no, does not mean she has said yes: a complainant who at the time failed by word or action to manifest his or her dissent is not in law taken to have consented to sexual intercourse ( R v IA Shaw [1996] 1 Qd R 641). Further, in R y Pryor [2001] QCA 341, the Court of Appeal said no element of violence is necessarily involved. The complainant does not necessarily have to forcibly resist in order to establish absence of consent. Absence of consent is establish WHEN SHE DOESN'T SAY YES!!!

Also, if you think it's a matter of he said/she said, and that if there's no evidence or witnesses, you'll get away with it, think again. A person may be found guilty of rape on the uncorroborated testimony of one witness (section 632(1) of the Code). A judge is not required by any rule of law or practice to warn the jury that it is unsafe to convict the accused on the uncorroborated testimony of one witness (section 632(2)). The judge must not warn or suggest that the law regards any class of persons as unreliable witnesses (section 632(3); Longman v The Queen (1989) 160 CLR 79), even if the complainant has a history of many sexual partners.

When will all you morons get it? If she doesn't say yes, you can't have sex with her! It's not about whether she didn't say no! Get it through your heads! Even if she was completely naked and walking down the street, then stopped to pick up a pencil, that is not an implied consent for you to have sex with her. If she didn't actually consent to you having sex with her, don't fucking have sex with her!!!!!!!

There was also another recent article in the SMH, the comments section of which nearly made my head explode (the article itself was pretty stupid, though). There were comments by men and women alike about how some girls are "asking for it", and how if the girl is too drunk to say yes, then why is it the male's responsibility, blah blah blah. It took all my strength not to go completely postal on those comments. I had to force myself to shut the article down and try to forget about it. I just don't understand why this is such a difficult concept to grasp! Did she say yes? She didn't? THEN DON'T FUCKING RAPE HER!!!!!

Is this thing still on?

Soooo busy lately, it's retarded. But, I only have myself to blame. If I'm not doing a bazillion things at once, I get very bored.

Anyway, an issue which has been plaguing me since I began dating William may about to be resolved. I am ecstatic, but I can't show it, because William doesn't know I ever had a problem, and it's not really something I could say to him, because it would absolutely kill his self-esteem.

There is a huge TMI warning on the rest of this post, so avert your eyes if you so desire!!

I like circumcised men. I know there are people who have issues with this practice, and say it's barbaric and what not, but I just prefer them. I think circumcised penises (penii?) are more hygienic, more attractive, and they make sex more enjoyable. The downsides to uncircumcised penii are that they tend to "hold" on to bodily fluids, which means stopping penetration to perform oral sex is never an option (I like girls, but I don't particularly want to get a mouthful of my own... well... you know). They also make condom usage a bit difficult, as the foreskin slides up and down with the condom. I'm pretty sure I have previously told the story where a guy "lost" a condom whilst having sex with me, and didn't even tell me! I found it 2 weeks later attached to a tampon. I could have died from toxic shock!

Anyway. I don't like uncircumcised men. William is uncircumcised. But there's uncircumcised, and then there's uncircumcised. Apparently, some men are afflicted with an excess of foreskin. I have only previously come across this issue once before, and I can tell you I have never seen an uglier penis in my life. It was like a deflated balloon was hanging off the end. The foreskin hung 6cm off the end of the shaft. It was gross. But of course, I couldn't say so. I had to just pretend I didn't notice his penis looked like it had lost a fight with the crocodile in The Elephant's Child.

Afterwards, I was hoping never to come across such a problem again. And then I met William. Of course, I had the luck of finding the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, only to find out his penis disgusted me. It wasn't quite as bad as the previous case (about half as bad), but there was still very obviously an excess of skin. All of the downsides to an uncircumcised penis have come into play while we've been together. Plus the added disadvantage of me not ever really wanting to perform oral sex because I think his penis is gross. I tell myself it's irrational. It's just skin! Why do I care so much? I have no idea. I guess that's like saying a person with an arm growing out of their head shouldn't stir certain feelings inside you - it's just an arm, we've all got them. It's an interesting observation of the importance society places on aesthetics.

Anyway. I remember asking a male friend back when I first started dating William about whether it would ever be possible for me to tell him I had a problem with it, or whether I could ever suggest surgery to him. I was told in no uncertain terms that I could never do so, because it would crush him, and lead to severe self-esteem issues. Which is exactly the answer I thought I'd get. Imagine if he had told me he didn't like my boobs and wanted me to enlarge/reduce them? I imagine I would also be extremely hurt. So I have never said anything. Just sort of plodded my way through and tried to deal with it.

Well, last night William came home from the doctors and said he had to discuss something with me. I thought he was going to the doctors just for an issue he's having with his broken ankle, but apparently he also went to get a referral to a urologist! He wants to get a circumcision! Apparently, aside from the issues I have with it (slipping condoms, unhygienic), he has problems with it too! Apparently, when we have sex, because it slips up and down so much, it tends to tear. Apparently always in the same place, and obviously with much pain. I don't know why he's never told me this before. He says it's the main reason he doesn't really initiate sex much - he's always afraid of the pain, and then has to rest for a few days afterwards to let it heal.

He told me this, and then asked if I thought he was silly for thinking about getting one. I had to pretend to be all concerned and supportive, when inside I was thinking, "Are you kidding?! Go! Go now and get one! I can't wait!!!!"

So yeah. I just hope the urologist will agree to do it, and there are no complications. And I really hope it improves our time in the bedroom afterwards!

I am awesome!

But probably more unbelievably lucky!

I do one of my degrees externally (I'd do them both, but one isn't offered), and each semester, I have an external attendance school to go to. It sucks. I have to give up a Friday, Saturday and Sunday and go to uni and sit through boring classes where morons ask ridiculously stupid and basic questions they wouldn't be asking if they'd actually read their material. But anyway.

During these EASs, I usually have a midsemester exam or two to take, but this semester, I didn't. At the start of the semester, when I drew up my assessment calendar, it looked like I only had one thing to do, and it would literally take 1 minute and was super easy. No actual studying required. So although I wasn't looking forward to the classes, at least I wasn't being assessed on anything.

Or so I thought.

At 7pm on the Thursday before, I was looking at my timetable for the EAS. And to my horror, I saw that I had a 10 minute presentation at 3pm the next day! For a subject I have done very little work for. Apparently, the problem had been released 2 weeks ago, and I was supposed to be arguing on the "for" side. And it was worth 20%! Argh!!!!!!!

I hit the panic button. The only thing I was grateful for was the "for" side seemed easier than the "against." I got William to flick through my textbooks with me and try to find anything that seemed relevant to my problem. I took an hour out for dinner, and then went back to it. I got to bed at 1am, completely stressed out that I was completely screwed. But at least I had something to present. Imagine if I'd turned up and had no idea I was presenting anything! I think that would be my first fail ever. I was actually trying to come up with ideas on how I could get out of going to the EAS. There was some turkey in the fridge that had been there longer than advised, and I even considered eating it and giving myself food poisoning. But I chickened out.

I had classes for another subject from 8am to 1pm, and then a two hour break until my presentation. I went to the library and tried to see if I could add anything further to my argument, or find any more sources. The only thing I can say in my favour is that I can be extremely persuasive when I want to be. I have had friends tell me that I speak with great authority even when I have no idea what I'm talking about. I was hoping to use that to my advantage.

5 minutes before I was due to present, I printed out my final copy. I was literally shaking like a leaf. I'm not much of a fan of speaking in front of people. I walked into the room and found out my opposing side actually worked in the industry for which the problem was based. "Great," I thought to myself, "I'm completely screwed."

There was one team before me. The first girl got up and started her presentation. She was freaking amazing. I just kept repeating to myself, "I am screwed, I am screwed, I am screwed."

Then it was our turn. I got up and gave my half. My partner got up and gave most of his presentation, but was clearly going over the 10 minute time limit. He had already been speaking for 20 minutes when the tutor said he would have to cut him off, but as he was interested in what he was saying, he was going to let him finish after the other teams had done theirs. So we sat back down. I thought this was pretty unfair. The time limit was clear. 10 minutes. I don't think he should have been allowed to continue past that, regardless of how interesting it was. Although some of the sources he had located to back up his argument was amazing. If we were getting graded on the outcome (whether we had convinced the tutor), I think I would have been screwed.

The other teams did theirs, and left at 5pm. We got back up. My opposition kept talking for another half hour. So 50 minutes in total, for something that was supposed to be 10 minutes. Some of what he was saying was preposterous. I was furiously scribbling notes down on the points I could have rebutted.

The tutor had noticed this, so after my opposition was finished, he gave me a right of reply. I got back up and started rebutting some of the points the other guy had made. Then he rebutted again, and then I rebutted again. 2.5 hours later, we were finally finished. I couldn't believe it. The tutor said he was letting us continue because he was fascinated by what we were saying, and because we were very good at speaking!

I was honestly very shocked. I couldn't believe I had managed to succeed with something I had pulled out of my arse in about 5 hours, with no previous knowledge, and very rushed research. Unbelievable.

Perhaps I should do all of my assignments 5 hours before they're due!

In other news: the house has settled! Yay! William and I are now officially part of the mortgage club, and are henceforth broke for the next 25 years! I can't wait until the tenants move out, and I can get the kitchen redone. And a walk in robe! I am so excited! I get to custom design one to go into the 4th bedroom. Very exciting! I'm going to have a wall of shoes!

Funniest line ever!

I don't know what it is about this trailer, but it cracks me up! William watched it and said I would find it hilarious, and showed me. The part from 2.01 onwards, the little girl says two lines, and I'm not sure why I think it's so hilarious, but seriously, that last line she says, I was literally holding my sides, crying with laughter, and trying to breathe! But I've probably built it up too much now and/or it's just not funny anyway, and none of you will laugh.

Go watch it here!

Moral dilemma

You guys are going to think I am a heartless, unscrupulous, bitch after this post. Although, you probably already do, so hey! Nothing will change!

William and I have been discussing marriage for a while now, and have even booked a venue (even though we're not officially engaged - they were offering a saving of $5,000 if we booked and paid a deposit by 31 December, so we did). We have discussed all manner of things, such as guest lists, dresses, suits, cakes, blah blah blah. And no, I don't force these things on William - he brings up ideas as much as I do (ok, maybe not quite, but he still does!).

Anyway, one thing we had discussed was that we wanted it to be a fun affair, with limited family members and more friends. Neither of us are really family-oriented people, and even though we both have aunts/uncles/cousins/etc, neither of us really speaks to them that much. So we decided we'd have immediate family there, and then the rest of the guests will be friends. It will be a much more celebratory feel instead of worrying about what Great Aunt Maude is thinking as we dance to The Wombats.

Anyway. I had already decided that the only family I wanted there was my mother, stepfather, sister (and her husband, though would I leave him out if I could), stepbrother (and his partner), and my niece (who will be 12). I don't want my nephew there because he's too young, and he's not disciplined. Likewise, I'm not inviting my biological father or his family. My stepfather's mother is already dead, but I would have invited her if she was living. I wouldn't have invited my father's parents because we barely speak, but they're also already dead. Likewise, I was not planning on inviting my mother's parents, because we also barely speak, and also because they're redneck, racist bogans who would embarrass me. But they're both still alive.

I don't dislike my grandparents, but I barely know them, and I really want my wedding to be full of people I really enjoy being around, and don't feel awkward around. So yeah. They weren't on the guest list.

Last week my grandma had a heart attack and ended up in hospital. Whilst there, the doctors discovered she had liver, pancreatic, kidney, lung, throat and tongue cancer, and said she was not likely to be around for much longer.

Out of a sense of obligation, I called her at the hospital to see how she was. She has always been nice to me, and I don't have anything against her, but I just don't know her. I was rummaging around for things to say and ended up telling her about the wedding date, and said she would have to make it to then, because I would like her to attend. It wasn't at all true, but I thought I was safe in the knowledge she wasn't going to be around anyway, and I thought it would cheer her up to hear I was getting married. She met William at my sister's wedding and really liked him.

My mother went to visit her on the weekend, and the doctors told her they now think she won't die within the next year.

And there is my moral dilemma. As soon as she told me this news, my first reaction was relief she wouldn't be dying so quickly. My second was to wonder how I could uninvite her to the wedding. Man, I am such a bitch!

Blast from the past

I went to this month's high heel event (rock up in your most fabulous heels, get judged and win prizes), and wore my fabulous McQueens. I won! I was actually a little shocked I won, because there were so many more people there this time, and I thought for sure someone would have better shoes. Plus, there's only one judge, and you never know if they have good taste or not. Case in point, the person who won best bag/shoe combo had the most hideous shoes imaginable. But I think she was the only one whose shoes actually "matched" her handbag (which I consider a big faux pas anyway - who wants to look that matchy matchy?).

Anyway, the event wasn't as good as last time. They'd paired it with a charity event this time, and whilst I'm all for supporting charities, I really don't appreciate attending an event, which is meant to be fun and frivolous and just a good night out with your girl friends, which is then hijacked for a charity. Especially when the woman running the charity then speaks at great length (seriously, it must have been about half an hour) about the disabilities, and the impact, and the funding, and the hard work of the volunteers and blah blah blah. It was so bloody depressing! And not content with that, she then showed a 15/20 minute DVD basically saying the exact same things she'd just said, but with the added emotional blackmail of video footage of said disabled kids. And instead of it being a free cocktail/free canape event as it normally is, they turned it into a paying event.

And apart from the hijacking, it was just so interminably long! I suspect they were dragging it out so people would spend more money at the bar (50% of proceeds were going to the charity). I was really annoyed with the whole thing. I wouldn't have minded supporting the charity if I had known about it beforehand and had been prepared, but I just didn't like my fun and vapid event being hijacked. This probably all sounds very nasty and what not, that I'm complaining about a charity, but honestly, it's just not what I was expecting for the night. As I said, I like supporting charities, but I hate attending an event and then being guilted into handing over money.

Anyway. At the end of the night, they had a raffle draw. The first name pulled out went up and picked up her prize, and I wasn't really paying attention. Then they asked her if she was going to take any friends with her, and she pointed to the two girls sitting with her and said she would be taking them. And then I recognised the accent. Quelle horreur! I couldn't believe who it was!

I don't know how many of you were reading that far back, but you may recall I was at one time involved with a couple. I used to spend a lot of time at their place, and we'd all hang out and sleep together and what not. And then I found out they were married (she was American, and she married him in the States so she could come to Australia. They'd been together since college though). And then the husband started to become a little obsessed with me. He would tell his wife he was going to play golf, and then would show up at my house. And on American Pie's birthday, it all came to a head. I arrived at the venue, and Bruin grabbed my arm before I got inside and pulled me aside into a room. He said he wanted to leave American Pie and wanted to be with me. The only problem was, I didn't want to be with him. And then American Pie found us and started to go mental. She honestly thought I was trying to steal him away. I really wasn't interested in him like that. So yes, it all ended quite badly.

So yes. American Pie won the raffle last night, and I couldn't believe it was her. I have never had the misfortune of running into anyone I have broken up with. They all seem to move interstate. TPO moved to Canberra (after he returned from overseas), IT Boy moved to Melbourne (and married the Asian slave he'd always wanted), Moron #1 moved intrastate, but still far away from Brisbane, and Horse moved to NT. I've never even run into any of the hundreds of guys I went on dates with. So I was just really shocked at seeing her there. I've never been in this situation before. Well, except for Mr Walrus, and it is purely my own choice that I have kept in contact with him. But even he has moved to NSW!

Anyway, we went to leave, and I had to walk straight past her. I was all prepared to pretend I hadn't seen her, but then she called out my name. I had to turn back and pretend to be happy to see her. It was the most awkward moment of my life. It was such a tortured and strained conversation. And at the end of it, I was searching for a way out, so I pulled out the most ridiculous statement ever, said in an extremely weak voice. "Ok, well, I have to go and be with my friends now." I could have died. I felt like such an idiot. But I really had nothing to say to her! I don't even know why she decided to talk to me! And then she gave me her business card and told me to email her! Argh!

So yes. Winning the competition was great, but the rest of the night was pretty awful.

4th time lucky?

So we may have finally bought something. It's not a house, but a townhouse. We were originally staying away from townhouses, because you don't get any land, and there's not as much capital growth. But it's a really good townhouse, and rather than sell it in 2 years, we'll keep it as rental income. It's currently getting $460 a week, so we think by the time we move out, we could probably charge around the $500s, which will mean it basically pays for itself (depending on how much we pay off the loan).

We decided to buy it because a) we're sick of looking, and b) it has everything we would want in a townhouse. We had previously said if we got to April and hadn't found a house, we would start looking at townhouses. So we're a bit early. But it is a very good townhouse. It has:

-4 bedrooms (yay! an entire room for my clothes!);
-double lock up garage;
-tri-level (master bedroom way apart from everything else);
-small courtyard (with space for a herb/vegetable patch);
-air conditioning on all levels;
-ensuite to master;
-security system; and
-gas kitchen.

And it's in a very quiet area. We were sitting at the dining table signing the documents, with all of the doors open, and we couldn't hear a thing. Such a difference from our current place (we're on a main road). It's also a pet-friendly complex, so no more hiding the kittens.

My only caveat on buying it was that I have to be allowed to redo the kitchen within the first 6 months. It's only a relatively new place (2 years old), but the kitchen is ridiculously small. There are only 9 cupboards in it (I have 16 in my current townhouse, and even that's not enough), and the oven is so tiny I doubt you could fit a tray of biscuits in it. So yeah. I told William I would agree to buy it if we could redo the kitchen very quickly. There is no way I could function with that kitchen. It's ridiculous.

But anyway. We've got 14 days before it's unconditional, so we're not in the clear yet. I just hope this one doesn't fall through like all of the others.

Stupid investors!

If you think I've been whinging about investors paying too much for property because I am too cheap to pay market price, here's a prime example for you.

About a month ago, a house went on the market we were very interested in. Decent sized block, good sized house (although the bedrooms seemed quite small, for some reason - maybe an illusion). It wasn't perfect (no room for a walk in robe), and it needed a lot of updating. The owners hadn't done anything to the place since it was built in the late 70s. For instance, there was a bar area off the kitchen which had walls completely covered in cork tiles! Anyway, we thought it had potential. The real estate was looking for offers around the high 4s/low 5s.

We went to view the property and were going to put in an offer, but then the agent told us the owners wanted it to go to auction. It was a deceased estate, and I guess they wanted to see exactly how much they could get for it. The agent organised a building & pest, which showed some termite and borer damage (so again, definitely not a perfect property).

The auction was on Saturday. The agent had still been predicting high 4s/low 5s. Some moron ended up paying $700,000 for it. The funniest thing about that is, he obviously hasn't done his homework. He is apparently a builder and was looking at subdividing the block and building another house on it. I checked with the Council when we were first looking at, and found out it was in Res A zoning, and they wouldn't allow any new structures to be built on the land (well, unless the house was subject to some kind of catastrophe and it was a necessity - fire, etc). So he's just paid $200,000 too much for a piece of land he can't do anything with. Well, not until they change the zoning, anyway. The land itself was valued in the high 3s. So he's just paid more than $300k for a house that wouldn't cost more than $200k to build brand new. The house as it was was definitely not worth more than about $100k.

Still, that just shows you what's going on. Houses are listed for high 4s/low 5s, and so we go to look at them. We put in very reasonable offers (usually at the list price - we're not the sort to play the game where you offer $50,000 less than they're asking), and we still get outbid. There are moronic investors out there who don't really care what they pay for the property. If it's listed at $500,000, they'll put in $550,000 just to make sure they get it. This is infuriating, not only because we're getting outbid every time, but also because it artificially inflates the prices of all the houses for sale. An agent who lists a 3 bedroom in Wavell Heights for $525k, and gets an offer of $575k for it automatically goes back to their other listings for similar houses in the same area and raises the prices of them, knowing they'll get offers at the higher level.

It's outrageous. It makes me so angry. I just wish those selfish investors would stop paying more for properties than they're worth! I know we'll end up buying something eventually, but I really hope the arse falls out of the market and all those greedy bastards are left with multiple properties they paid too much for and they all make losses.

Rude!

Some people are so rude. Two recent examples:

We were invited to an engagement party of one of William's friends. When we got there, I placed my handbag and coat on a chair in order to reserve it for later (when I was sick of standing up). At such time, I walked back into the other room, only to discover a very large lady has stolen my seat. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was she had put my $700 handbag on the wet, dirty floor!! And she was literally sitting on my equally expensive jacket and crushing it!! I was so angry, and it took all my effort not to completely blow up at her. Instead, I just shot her daggers. I mean, even if it had been a $5 handbag and jacket, that sort of thing is still not acceptable. You don't put someone else's bag on a dirty, wet floor, and sit on/crush their clothes!

The other example was last night. We were supposed to be going out to dinner with William's friends from Melbourne. I have never met them before, because every other time they've been up, I've had an exam or assignment due the next day and have to bail. So anyway. It was supposed to be the four of us going out to dinner. William had picked the Normanby, which I wasn't too happy about, but I did know they had recently put in a newer restaurant which served more than just steak and chips, so I agreed. As a side note, William and I are on a strict eating plan which involves no carbs after 3pm. We are allowed to not follow the plan for one day every few weeks, and I was looking forward to eating some mashed potato.

Anyway, half an hour before we left our house, William's friend called him and said the people who had picked him up from the airport had invited themselves to dinner. Neither William or I know these people. Further, William's friend then decided to invite another of his friends (and his fiance) along, since it was turning into a large group. Brilliant, I thought. Those who know me in real life probably don't realise how shy I am. Sure, I'm outspoken once you get to know me, but if I don't know you, I generally won't say anything to you until I do. This situation is compounded when I'm faced with a large group of people I don't know. If it had just been the 4 of us as originally intended, I could have dealt with that. But facing 6 people I didn't know was extremely daunting, and I just knew I was going to sit there in silence all night.

I assumed William had made reservations for us at this place, and I asked him if we were sitting inside (I hate sitting outside, it's always cold, and at the moment it's raining). He said yes. I bought a jacket just in case, but I also wore a knee length dress (I would have chosen something warmer for eating outside).

So we get to the "restaurant." It turns out William hasn't made a reservation at all. And now that we are suddenly a table of 8, there is no space inside the new restaurant. There is only a table for 6 available. We are forced to sit outside in the pub food area. I am not happy. We manage to get a table for 8 as close as possible to the restaurant, in case of rain. There is a horribly loud entertainer not too far away playing the piano and singing slightly off key to horrible pop/rock songs of the 90s.

I look at the menu and am getting more irritated by the moment. There are burgers, pizzas, steak and chips, and that's it. I can't believe I am wasting one of my night's off for this crap. If I'm going to deviate from my eating plan, I would at least like to eat something decent. Not to mention I need to be studying, and I am annoyed that I could be home studying and eating something better instead of sitting here in the cold, facing a night of sitting shyly in silence, with horribly loud music assaulting my eardrums, and eating crappy food.

The other people show up. And someone else (a friend of the couple who picked up the friends from the airport) has now invited themselves along too. So now we have to move from our 8 table out to a shitty bar table with high stools (which had no backs - I hate chairs without backs!), right in front of the crappy singer, and right at the edge of the undercover section, so that if it started raining again, we were sure to get wet. Fantastic.

I asked William to order me a steak, and ask for mashed potato and vegetables instead of chips and salad. He comes back and tells me they won't do it. They apparently tell him they don't do mashed potato. What sort of restaurant doesn't do mashed potato?! He asks them whether they have any mashed potato over at the other restaurant, and they say no. As if. I go and investigate the menu, and there is indeed mashed potato on it. Fucking liars. How fucking hard is it to put a little bit of mashed potato on a plate? Charge me extra for it, I don't care! But seriously? Denying a customer a small change because you just simply don't want to do it? That's ridiculous.

And now for the extremely obnoxious part. Three of the ringers (the couple who picked up the friends from the airport, and their friend) don't even order food. They don't even sit with us. They take themselves and their drinks off to the smoking area, and don't come back for the rest of the night. I am livid! If they weren't coming to eat, then why are they here?! Why didn't they tell us they didn't want to eat?! We could have had the 6 top in the new restaurant, away from the horribly loud singer, and out of the cold and possible rain, and I could have been eating mashed potato! Who crashes someone else's dinner, and then just ruins it for everyone else by demanding a table large enough that they're not even going to sit at? Seriously?

I was so angry. I wanted to punch them in their stupid faces. I can't believe I wasted a night off on that crap. I told William he owes me a sandcrab lasagne from Il Centro.

Selling things on Ebay is torture

This is an actual exchange between myself and some moron from the States. As background, the listing is for a pair of shoes, and is quite comprehensive. It states regular shipping is free to the whole world, but express is extra, and insurance is extra (and optional).

hi,how much is the price buy it now in usa money? how much is
the shipping to usa?thanks

The buy it now price should come up automatically for your country. It's $55 Australian, so it should be about $50 USD. Regular shipping is free, but if you want expedited shipping, or insurance, that will be extra.

hi,how much is the shipping n insurance ? how long it take to get
to usa.thanks

Everything you have asked is mentioned within the listing. If you go to the listing, and click on the tab labelled Postage and Delivery next to the one labelled Description, you can change the country there to say United States of America. It will then tell you standard shipping is free (and will take up to 5 business days to reach you), and expedited shipping is $25 AUD (and will take less than 5 business days to reach you - probably about 3 days). It also says insurance is an additional $5 AUD.

hi,so the shipping is free to usa its take 5 days and $5 for the
insurance right,if this right i ll but them.SORRY for all the
question.thanks

Argh! I just wanted to yell at her, "can you freaking read?!" Although judging by her awful grammar, the answer to that question would be no.

She did end up buying the shoes, though. And that's the only thing I hate about Ebay. You have to be polite to these idiots because they are potentially ridding you of your unwanted crap. The amount of times I have wanted to go postal on some moron for asking stupid questions... I sometimes wonder why I bother writing detailed descriptions at all, since clearly nobody ever reads them. Next time, I think I'll just put up a photo and that's it.

OMG! I won something!

I never win anything! I am still in shock.

I went to an event last night where you wear a pair of fabulous heels, and you get judged, and there are prizes. And I won! In these killer Louboutins:
Yes, they're very bright, and no, they're not the "classic" sort of thing I usually buy, but look at them! I thought they were stunning as soon as I saw them, so even if I do only get one season out of them, that's fine with me. Plus, they'll be back in fashion in about 10 years anyway, when the 80s come around again.

Anyway, I won! I was so happy! Finally, having a fabulous collection of shoes is paying off! This event is held every month, so I think I'm going to become a regular. Last night's first prize was a $250 voucher at a reputable hair salon. The funny thing about that is, I have recently been saying that I might like to get a hair style. I know that sounds weird from a girl, that I "might like" to get a hairstyle. But I have a morbid fear of hairdressers. I used to have a really cool hairstyle, and a great colour, but then my hairstylist left the salon I was going to, and no one would tell me where he went. So I saw someone else and they completely ruined my hair. That was when I was 21. The next 7 years haven't been any more successful. Every time I visit a hairdresser, I walk away vowing never to go back again. They don't listen to me. I want something low maintenance, and long enough that I can put it up without using any pins/clips. There is nothing more irritating to me than putting my hair up and still having bits fall in my face. But hairdressers don't listen. They assume they know what's best. So it has now come to the point where I just grow my hair really long and then go in once a year to get it cut to my shoulders, and start again. And even then, they somehow manage to screw it up. They always think layers are a good option, even when I tell them I just want it blunt cut across the bottom, and nothing else. I hate hairdressers.

So yes. I am somewhat excited about getting a free hairstyle, but also petrified they're going to ruin my hair like every other hairdresser in the last 7 years. And I don't even know what sort of hairstyle I'd like! My problem is it has to be very low maintenance, because I already have to get up at 6am, and I'm not getting up any earlier just to do my hair. The shortest bits also have to be long enough to go up without assistance of pins/clips. So it doesn't leave me many options.

Oh well. At least I don't have to pay for it! Wahoo! I am totally going next month and winning again. I think I will wear these Alexander McQueens:

Dilemma

No luck on the house front yet. I swear to fsm, if one more investor from NSW/VIC outbids me on a house, I'm going to go fucking postal on those states. Stop buying all our affordable housing, you greedy bastards!!

My assistant, who I happen to think is fantastic (and yes, that is a rarity for me - I hold very few people in high regard), has a very annoying habit. And I don't know how to approach her about it. Perseus, if you're reading, this post has a TMI warning - look away now!

She goes to the bathroom every morning, and doesn't utilise the toilet brush, if you get my meaning. How on earth do I approach her about it? I mean, we're sort of friends, but I don't think I could even approach a friend about that sort of thing without a lot of embarrassment, let alone someone I have to work with!

Ideas?

In other news, I am entirely not surprised this happened. Bus travel was how I went up the west coast from Santiago to Mexico, and I frequently had a seat up the top at the front (double decker buses). The amount of times I thought we were going to crash with an oncoming truck was at least a dozen. The problem is that the Panamerican is single lane in a lot of places, and when a bus on a schedule gets caught behind a slow moving vehicle, it thinks it's a good idea to overtake. Even on blind corners. The scenery going past was spectacular, but I remember wondering at the time what the crash rate was. Since leaving South America, there has been a volcanic eruption, floods and mudslides, and various vehicular tragedies - all in places I visited. All I can say is, I'm glad I wasn't there at the time.

Real estate agents must sell their soul to the devil

They are so fucking evil and annoying.

We had a list of 6 houses to view on the weekend, 5 of which had been raised. I tried to contact each of the agents before the weekend to ask them if the downstairs was legal height, and none of them would tell me. They just told me I was welcome to come and measure. Here's a thought, numbnuts - perhaps I don't want to waste my time driving all the way there, only to walk through the door, measure the ceiling height and walk out again! I fail to see why it's so fucking difficult to find out what the ceiling height is and get back to me. Grr.

So that's exactly what happened with those 5 houses. None of them were legal height downstairs, so we wasted half a day and lots of fuel driving around to all of them. And one agent even had the nerve to argue with me about it! One of the houses was a very old house which had been built in underneath, and the living areas had been moved downstairs so just bedrooms were upstairs. The bedrooms were fine - they had 10' ceilings. The downstairs was another matter. It was only 2100mm in there. The problem being legal height for a habitable room is 2400mm. So the kitchen was legal, but nothing else was. He asked us what we thought of the property, and we told him we'd probably like it if it was legal height. He then said it was legal height when it was built in, which I know for a fact is a lie. I told him heights had never been that low, and in fact up to the 50s were 8'6", then became 8', and are now 7'10.5" (or 2400mm). He just looked at me, and then tried to save face by saying the owners could only work with what they had! Here's a thought - if it's not legal height, don't build it in!! Morons. There's no way anyone other than a complete idiot is going to buy it when it's not even legal height. If there's a fire or something else, no insurance company is going to pay out once they show up and realise you've been living in a non-habitable space. Idiots.

We did have a small win, though. Because we were induced into signing the last contract because we were told it was legal height underneath, we requested the real estate agent pay us the money we expended on building & pest and legal fees/disbursements. They refused, so we got our solicitors to send them a letter claiming misrepresentation of the property (we had a print out of the advertisement which said it was legal height, etc), and threatening to advise the Office of Fair Trading, as well as take them to court. They must have gotten legal advice and told they were screwed, because they paid us back all of our costs. Wahoo!

I still hate real estates. I don't even understand why anyone uses them in this day and age. Take some nice photos of your property, get a valuation, then put an ad on realestate.com.au. Done and done. Why bother with an agent who's going to take 5% of the sale value? I don't get it. And they don't do anything anyway. They never know anything about the property, and are just generally very unhelpful to potential buyers. William and I have already said when we sell, we'll just sell it ourselves and save ourselves the hassle.

Is it so hard to admit a mistake?

Warning: this post contains TMI!!

I just went to visit my friendly neighbourhood beauty therapist for a wax, which I do once a month. I've never had a problem with her before. Although I do tend to talk about any old shit while I'm lying there, because I find it easier to pretend she's not poking around my lady bits that way.

Anyway, today started out no differently. I was mostly babbling about my new kitten. She was also telling me about her cats (there's probably a pussy joke in there somewhere). And then I noticed she was using a lot of round cosmetic pads. She kept grabbing one, and wiping at something and then throwing it away and getting another one. I figured I might have had a little bleeding or something (my hairs are quite tough and sometimes don't want to come out!) so I didn't bother questioning her, and I figured she might say something at the end. Like, "here's your tee tree oil cream, and I'm really sorry, but you have a small spot of blood, but it's nothing to worry about." She didn't say anything, so after she left, I sat up to get dressed.

And then I noticed that I was covered in blood! I grabbed some more of the cosmetic pads and kept wiping it away, but the blood kept flowing. It was certainly not that time of the month, so it wasn't that. And then I realised. Ever since I can remember (pre-sexual activity also), I have had a small bump right on the tip of my "labia major" (to use the clinical term!). I guess it probably looks a bit like a wart to anyone who isn't me, but it's definitely not one. It's pretty much a birth mark, I guess. I've had it looked at by a doctor before and it's just a growth, although it's been the same size forever, so "growth" is probably not the right word either. In any event, it's always been there.

And now it's not. I don't know what she was doing with wax up that high anyway (there is no hair on that part!), but it appears she has ripped the little bump right off me! I didn't feel any more pain than I usually do (let's face it, wax doesn't exactly tickle, so I'm not surprised), but there is an awful lot of blood.

I pressed a cosmetic pad against it and got dressed, and when I went out to pay, I asked her if the wax had torn some skin or something. She just looked at me and then said no. I said I was just wondering, because it wasn't that time of the month, as it was 2 weeks ago. She asked if I was bleeding, and then asked if it hurt. I sort of looked at her incredulously. I couldn't believe she was denying it! If she had no idea I was bleeding, what was she using the cosmetic pads for? What was she wiping away, and pressing down on? I didn't really care, it's not like I was after a free wax or anything, but I just wanted an acknowledgement that she'd made a mistake and torn off a part of my skin!

I didn't press the issue though. I just told her to never mind, it wasn't an issue, and it didn't hurt.

It's still bleeding though, and that was at 11.15. I hope it stops soon! I'm actually glad to be rid of the bump, because it does irritate me when I go to get a pap smear with a new doctor and they try to tell me I have genital warts or something. And I remember when I was teenager I actually tried to use nail clippers to cut it off (it hurt too much, so I stopped!). So it's nice for it to be gone, but I still would have liked her to acknowledge she ripped it unceremoniously from my body!

Bah!

So it wasn't third time lucky on the house. It turns out the agent misrepresented the house. We repeatedly asked and she repeatedly said it was legal height. Turns out it's 20cm short. Which means the downstairs is not habitable (can only be used as laundry/storage). So unless the owners are willing to drop the house $20k to take into account how much it would cost us to dig further down to lay the slab with enough clearance, we're obviously going to have to pull out. So it's back to the drawing board.

On a cheerier note, I just had coffee with a friend I met on my trip last year. He was on his honeymoon with his new wife (obviously!), and I spent most of the horrid GAP tour I did through Mexico with them. I shall dub him BFG because he's the tallest person I've ever met. I shall dub her Miss Diplomat. It was really amusing, because BFG and I were exactly the same, and Miss Diplomat and William were exactly the same, so it was like watching my own relationship, but in reverse (sort of). Anyway, BFG and I have the exact same sense of humour, and not many people think I'm funny, so it was nice to catch up with someone who actually laughed at my quips (and not just politely!). BFG and Miss Diplomat were the only reason I enjoyed the GAP tour. I would have hated it were it not for them. They were just so friendly and nice, and looked after me when I was sick in Mexico DF.

It was great to catch up with him, and he was telling me about their recent trials at house buying, so we were comparing notes. I have faith William and I will find something decent after speaking to him. It took them 6 months, and they'd nearly given up, but I really do think we will find something fantastic eventually.

The weekend just gone was quite nice too. We didn't yet know about the problems with the house, so we were relaxed. We cleaned the whole house, and then Giggles and I went to a spa and got facials, pedicures and massages - so good! And now my feet look like feet!

Friday night wasn't so good. I was at work until 9pm trying to fix mistakes from the muppet. Still. It baffles me that she managed to fuck up so many things in such a short period of time. I am so thankful Miss Flair is working here now. She is cheery, and competent, and just does what I tell her! It's great! It turns out the muppet also effectively stole close to $4,000 when she left. She had over 167 hours off work "sick", but only claimed 67 hours, because that's all the sick leave she was entitled to during her contract period. The other 100 hours should have come out of her annual leave, but she didn't deduct it, and then just paid out her annual leave when she left. I've spoken to the lawyers, and there's really nothing we can do about it, short of suing her for it. And given her economic situation, I doubt we'd get much. So we're just writing it off.

Seriously, if I ever see her again, I think it will take all of my willpower not to run up to her in the street and throttle her.

House buying is shit

Buying a house is stressful. I mean, I knew it wasn't going to be all fun and games, but I didn't think it was going to be this awful. Finding something decent in our price range was awful. Inspections were awful. Real estate agents are awful. Banks are awful.

And I really don't understand the market at the moment. There is such high demand for properties, you'd think the owners/agents would wait until the end of the week until they'd collected a bunch of offers, and then picked the best one. That would surely be the most beneficial thing for them. Instead, properties are listed one day and either sold that day or the next. It's like people are accepting the first offer they get. It doesn't make sense to me. And it's completely frustrating. We go and view a property and decide to put in an offer, and so call up an hour after we've seen it to let the agent know, and they say it's already under offer! I just don't understand.

Anyway, it appears we may have finally found something. Barring an unfavourable building/pest inspection, it seems it will all go ahead. However, the bank is being an absolute bastard. The mortgage would only be 80% of the property value, so we wanted to borrow a bit more to do some renovations to the place, which would have increased the value of the property by at least 17%, but they wouldn't approve it. I don't understand why. It's not like we can't make the repayments. And it would be increasing the value of the property, meaning that when we revalue it in a year's time, we'd have more equity in the property. It's currently a 3 bedroom house with one bathroom, a small kitchen, and a single carport. We'd build in underneath and turn it into a 4 bedroom, 2.5 bathroom, double garage, with an extended kitchen and larger living area. I don't know why they're against it. The broker said something about them wanting us to pay the loan off sooner, but that doesn't make sense. If we did the renovations and revalued it, the bank's interest in the property would be less (say, 70%), which is surely a good thing for the bank. Ridiculous.

So yes. I have mixed feelings about it all. I like the house, but it's not practical for my lifestyle at the moment, but if the bank won't give us the extra money, we won't be able to do anything to it for a while. So we'll effectively be living in limbo, which is shit. If I'd known they were going to do this, I would have kept the deposit and used it for the renovations, and gone for a 100% loan or something. Stupid bank. I really don't want to be one of those people who buys a place with dreams of renovating, and 5 years later they haven't done anything to it. Bleh.

Oh well. I guess we'll see how it all goes.

Curiosity killed the cat

Just in case you were wondering, Christmas was ok, but rather painful. I am not a family person. My parents came around for 8 hours on Christmas day. 8 hours!! I was done after 2. The next day was spent with William's family. Double ugh. This time, it was his extended family of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. I have never met any of them before. His uncles seemed relatively normal (not sure what happened to his father), but one of his aunts was so intensely irritating, I wanted to throw the bucket of Christmas punch over her head.

New Year was just as uneventful. We went to bed early after watching a movie.

Yesterday, I decided to perform a little experiment. I am nothing if not a curious person. I have had conversations with friends before where I sometimes wonder if I'm just with William because no one else would put up with me. I mean, I love him, but I sometimes wonder if that's just *because* he puts up with me. Know what I mean? It's hard to explain, I suppose.

I was watching TV over the weekend, and a swath of eHarmony ads caught my attention. Apparently, that site is not the same as RSVP or the others, because they make you fill out a whole ton of questions and then develop a personality profile for you which they use to match you up with other people. I was interested in seeing what sort of people they would match me up with.

I thought about this for the whole weekend, and yesterday while I was bored at work, decided to check it out. Not because I am wanting to leave William (quite the opposite, in fact), or because I want to start some clandestine internet affair with someone else. Just because I was curious. I didn't intend to contact any of the matches, I just wanted to see what sort of people they were.

So I filled out the whole profile, and waited to see who my matches would be and what they'd be like. And you know what? I got 0. Yes, 0. Not one single match. So I waited until this morning, and logged in again. Still 0. It's telling me I need to widen my parameters (like, maybe removing the requirement for them to not have or want children). And then a few hours later it sent through two "flexible" matches. I clicked on the flexible link to see what that meant. It basically told me that because it couldn't match me up with anyone, it had relaxed the requirements for me, and found just 2 people.

I found this all highly amusing. I've already deleted the account. So I was right, in a way. No one else bar William would be able to put up with me. Even the computer says so.