S#56: Feed Ducks
I borrowed someone else’s children for this one.
Anyone currently residing in the antipodes will observe the blue sky in these pictures and know this was not a recent picnic. (I miss the sun so badly right now.) It happened about a fortnight ago and, since I hate and fear the outdoors, wasn’t technically my idea. All good though!
Have any of the Monty Python cast died? Because if so, I think they’ve reincarnated.
The strangest thing happened during the picnic. All of a sudden a murder of crows flapped into existence, alighting in all the trees around our picnic rug and screaming, and screaming, and screaming, for several minutes. Then they all flew away.
I’m mildly surprised none of us dropped dead. It was truly weird.
Play along at home: Next time the sun comes out (like RIGHT NOW if you’re in Canberra), flee your desk and bask for as many seconds as you can. Preferably near ducks – and away from crows. (If you live in the Northern hemisphere, I hate you right now.)
Coming soon: Marshmallow gun (almost certainly this Sunday).
Rediscover Winter clothes.
Fill your house with balloons.
Make trifle. (Or, in my case, eat it.)
Op shop shopping spree.
And some surprises.
Halfway
And what did YOU do on the weekend?
If you’d like to see many more octopus photos (and who wouldn’t?), you may enjoy the facebook group I set up exactly for that reason (I’m posting something every day for the next little while). http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=120950664610493
There’s video at http://twittertales.wordpress.com already.
———————-
At 4pm today I’ll be halfway through the three weeks of pain.
Only one problem. Bizarrely, my body has gained a kilo and a half since Friday. Since that weigh-in, the bad stuff I’ve eaten was only a sesame bar (basically my only option for lunch that day), 30 grams of chocolate, and two pieces of cake (one on Friday, one on Sunday). Even if I’d eaten all that in a single day, that’s still not THAT much. It’s not a freakish one-off weigh-in either, because I’ve increased dramatically every day for three days.
I generally express my anger by eating chocolate. But I’m not going to do that. The next best thing is to withdraw completely from society.
So, bye. Don’t call me.
#: Put an octopus in an unexpected place
Welcome one and all to Secret # 6.
Octopi have the slinky flexibility of cats. They flollop. The tentacles are sticky, and really do wrap around anything nearby. These guys weigh over two kilos each, which is a lot of lumpy reptilian squidginess. And I could feel the slippery lump of their brains wobbling around inside their skulls. I got octopus ink on my hands, and unidentified biological matter on my clothes, skin and hair. My hands still smelled of octopus when I went to bed that night, despite the fact I’d washed them with hot water and with soap more than half a dozen times. And cut my fingernails. Right now I still have a tentacley mass lurking in the fridge, waiting for rubbish day.
That was quite a day. I could see people frowning in confusion as they past, and then their faces lighting up as they realised what was happening.
Ben (that’s his voice on the video – this was all his idea) named the smaller one Squidgy and the larger one Tentacular. These pictures are not copyrighted, so you may use them as desktops or whatever as long as you mention either this blog or “Louise Curtis”. In the next three hours I’ll begin putting ALL the photos up on a new facebook group, and I’ll put the address of it at the end of this post. The photos and video were taken at the Australian National University, outside Belconnen Library, in the city centre (the last photos involved another fountain-wade from yours truly), and in my mother’s backyard. (When my mother saw what we had in the bucket, she went “Urg!” and took a step back.)
Want more photos? http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=120950664610493
#147: Dream Diary
Ben suggested:
Keep a (g-rated) dream diary for a week, then (sarcastically)
recreate some of the more interesting incidents as photographs
I’ve been putting this off for a long time, for reasons that will become clear. So here’s a crop of four dreams from a perfectly ordinary week:
1. I was on a family holiday in which U2 was staying next door with various animals (why not?). During the course of the holiday, their elephant herd escaped into our yard. I helped by holding a terrified elephant the size of my hand. Subconscious meaning: I not-so-subconsciously look forward to having a baby (represented by my sister being in the dream, and by the delight with my incredibly tiny elephant).
2. I was pregnant, and CJ and I went together for a routine checkup (one of my more realistic dreams – prophetic even, since it’ll eventually happen). Subconscious meaning: See # 1.
4. CJ and I were at a club, sitting at a large table while a group of footballers, football managers and football media filled the chairs for dinner. One of the footballers grabbed my knee under the table and I was so startled I said nothing. Then a second grabbed my knee. At that point I stood up, and delivered the following diatribe (which I’ve produced verbatim, I’m proud to say):
“My husband is RIGHT HERE, so you must be some kind of idiot. Even if I was attracted to you – which I’m not – I wouldn’t want you groping me. Even if I liked your personality – which I don’t – I wouldn’t want you groping me. So don’t.”
CJ and I then stormed off majestically, leaving a stunned table behind us. I couldn’t help noticing that neither one of us was carrying our bags, and turned to CJ to say so.
“We’ll get them tomorrow,” he said.
“My phone –”
“Tomorrow morning,” he said.
“Okay.”
(Thus, we managed to resist spoiling our majestic flouncing.) Subconscious meaning: I dislike idiots, but like yelling at people.
4. Justin Bieber (who worked in an Aussie pizza shop) was my sidekick. Together we fought crime. Subconscious meaning: Shut up.
Tomorrow: Secret # 6 at last!
#153: Finding out what my kids will look like. . .
. . . if I marry the celebrities below:
Frodo (it could happen, dagnammit)
Faith (again, it could happen. . . with science. . .)
Elvis (SCIENCE, I tell you!)
CJ (on the basis that if I’ve heard of someone, they’re a celebrity):
Because that’s not creepy at ALL.
(Many thanks to Morphthing.com)
If you’re looking for today’s twittertale – it’s finished, so I posted it on the 26th (in its own entry, so you can just click on the “Completed Twittertale” button on the right).
Healthy weight range update: I lost two kilos this week (that’s several pounds). It hurt a LOT. One kilo to go. All I have to do is HOLD ON.
Fish update: Sherlock ATE one of the other fish. I just bought him a more specialised food, so hopefully it won’t happen again. Other than that, the fish seem happy. They’ve already outlived the last lot, so things are probably going to be fine.
STOP PRESS!!!!! Secret # 6 has HAPPENED. I’ll be posting ALL the details and pictures and video on Sunday.
In the meantime, here are some (probably misleading) clues: It took five hours (mostly because we did a very thorough job of it). I have blisters, a broken shoe, and a broken thumbnail. I carefully wiped down the camera afterwards. A blue bucket played a pivotal role. One word: squidgy. Today also involved public places, and taking off my shoes.
S#59: Otherwise Known As. . .
Steff Metal (http://steffmetal.com/101-ways-to-cheer-yourself-up/) said:
Decide on new nicknames for all of your friends. Send them a text or email to let them know their new nickname, and call them that from now on. The more outrageous the nicknames, the better.
I have had many nicknames over the years: Scopes, Steffocles, Double F, Squints, Blinkin’, Blinkie Bill (I detest this), Steffy, Steffy-waffles, Titi, Dozer and Beaker (those last two gens are from my husband. Such a caring fellow.)
Nicknames make a person feel loved, like they’ve reached a new level of intimacy with you.
——————————-
So! *rolls up sleeves with evil grin* here’s the new names of all the friends featured in yesterday’s entry.
First, Ben (who was behind the camera as usual): Ben is called “Matrix Ben” after an incident with another friend. This other friend (who I’ll call Sunny, because he is) is very very happy, very huggy, and very extraverted. I once heard a conversation in which someone asked what he was like to live with, and received the reply, “Well. . . he’s naked a lot.”
He sat next to Ben one day on a rather small couch and leaned in for a hug (or quite possibly a kiss). Ben cringed back, and at the same time – through some amazing contortion – placed his sneakered foot between Sunny’s face and his own. I still don’t know how his foot got there, let alone how it got there instantaneously.
Since this move was clearly impossible in this reality, Ben is now dubbed Matrix Ben.
W has a name that he regularly finds in romance novels (seriously), so I’m just leaving that one alone. (I should note for the record that he doesn’t find it by reading said romance novels, but by other people telling him about it.)
The girl who isn’t me is quite clearly a ninja, based on my observations. She is the quietest person I’ve ever met (despite appearances in the video). Therefore, I’m giving her a ninja nickname. This is it:
Didn’t see anything? That’s because the nickname is BEHIND YOU!!
The other darkly bearded fellow shares a first name with my partner, CJ. This causes endless confusion as I find it quite easy to tell when I’m talking to my husband and when I’m talking to the other one. But no-one else does. So yesterday I began referring to them as “the one I’ve seen naked” and “the one I haven’t seen naked”. Therefore, CJ is now called “Naked”. You would think that “the other one” could then be referred to by his own name. But no. It doesn’t work like that.
Last night, W addressed a cupcake in rather affectionate terms just before eating it. “The other one” was directly in front of him, and said, “Why thank you.” At that moment, he became “Cupcake”.
I tested out the new nickname in the supermarket later, when Cupcake was walking away. From a distance of about twenty metres, he stopped in his tracks, turned around, and said, “Yes?”
Nickname test: successful.
Leaving aside those in the video, my pregnant sister is now called Bigbelly, as an honorary pregnancy name. (You’re Welcome.)
So, all of the video people are accounted for except one. Me.
Go on, make me a nickname. I dare you. You can base it on Louise Curtis, Felicity Bloomfield (my less child-safe alter ego) or some wacky feature of my personality or appearance. Or just make something up from thin air. This is the easiest “play along at home” ever. Don’t be shy!
Dance in a Supermarket
NB: The completed twittertale “And then I woke up” is in its own post directly below this one.
Some weeks ago, W suggested I should go and dance in a supermarket.
I gathered a bunch of friends (all of whom have an interest in ballroom dancing) and a bunch of hats (from W himself – yes, all of them) and convinced them that we should all go dancing together. Everyone got dressed for the night-time walk to the shops, then donned our chosen hats and opened the front door.
Rain.
High-quality hats and rain don’t mix, so the fate of the evening looked grim. One person went home, leaving us with a broken couple.
The rest of us clutched our precious hats to our chests and ran through the rain laughing in a manic fashion and quoting “Girl Genius” (“. . . and if you lose your hat, it is a BAD PLAN.”)
We crammed into two rain-soaked cars, drove to the shopping centre feeling like Amazon explorers, and performed another mad dash across a supermarket carpark. And then we were inside, and hatted, and there was no music! We wandered shiftily until we found the best spot, the music came on, and W bravely began to dance. (He’s the good-looking dark-bearded twenty-something one. . . in the middle.) Observe the terror on my face:
But I found my courage eventually:
During the course of this video, I swung wildly between delight and embarassment (wouldn’t you?)
When we’d danced enough, we exited the store – with our groceries, of course.
The night swung from possibility to despair to adventure to silliness and ultimately triumph. With bananas.
Tomorrow: S#59: Formerly Known As. . . (there shall be nicknames for everyone in the video).
I’m also currently working on a suggestion Ben made – and I quote –
Make a gun(s) that fires Marshmallows at high speed (could be
easily done several ways…)
“And then I woke up” tale
AND THEN I WOKE UP
5
I woke with my face in concrete. Wet concrete. Not concrete – meat. Meat and blood, and it was in my MOUTH! Yuck!
I sat up, spitting. Then I saw the bodies all around me. No-one else was waking up, like I had. But a few others, like me, had blood dripping down their chins.
Wasn’t I just in maths class? I shook my head, trying not to scream. Hysteria took over, and I said aloud, “Please, not the maths!”
6
I sheltered overnight in an abandoned apartment. The homiest part was the curtains (burnt) but I found an unopened tin of baked beans.
Evidently even apocalypse survivors don’t eat baked beans. Also there was no can opener. I began to understand my own cannibalism.
My body was different, too – not just thinner. With a mirror, I discovered I was now in my twenties. What!?! Did I go to the prom or not?
7
I watched through burnt curtains as a group of people walked slowly down the street. They walked upright, and they weren’t as thin as me.
My belly rumbled, so I broke a two by four off the bed for a weapon, and went downstairs to follow the tall ones.
8
One of the tall ones kept sniffing the air and pushing his child in front of him. He looked around, and almost saw me.
Perhaps the tall ones knew why I was ten years older, why the whole city was burnt, and why I couldn’t remember anything since math class.
“Mustn’t sleep,” I told myself. I had to keep watch. They had food! And bottles of water! I was so thirsty it didn’t hurt any more.
9
“Gotcha!”
My eyes snapped open but it was too late. The man had me by both arms. I struggled, but I was so weak my vision blurred.
Their leader leant over me. “Stop moving. We’re not going to hurt you.”
I wanted to yell at her but instead I whimpered, “He took my beans.”
“Give her beans back, Z,” she said, and he did.
“I’m Dell,” she said, “and who are you?”
“Fay,” I whispered, and clung to my precious can.
10
All night they fed me sips of warm water, and in the morning they let me have half an old banana. Where did they get fruit from?
I tried to stay awake, but I slept. When I woke up, there were three times as many people – hungry-eyed, bloody-mouthed people like me.
“We need water,” Dell said to Z, “or they’ll die here.”
He nodded, and he and the child went back along the windy street alone.
11
Z and the girl returned with water and jerky. Dell made us say a prayer before we ate. For the first time, I wondered where my parents were.
When I was strong enough to stand, I asked Z for my weapon back.
“What for?” he said.
I said, “To protect me while I look for my parents.”
“Riiight,” he said, and showed me his gun.
I blinked.
“Wait until tomorrow,” he said, “and Dell will tell you what to do.”
12
Dell stood on a dumpster and addressed us all. “Go,” she said, “as far as you can in every direction. If you find water, let off a flare.”
“East!” I blurted out. “I’ll go East!”
Z smirked at me: “Fine then. So will I.” He stuck three flares in his belt, and we started walking.
“I’m called Iris,” said the girl, slipping her hand in mine.
“Fay,” I said, “and I wasn’t much older than you when I fell asleep.”
13
We searched every building for running water. “Someone’s got to have their own generator,” said Z.
“My parents do,” I said.
Iris screamed, and I instinctively threw her behind me. A stranger burst out of a hole in the wall and made a grab for my empty bottle.
Z drew his gun but the man kept fighting me. I remembered what my Mum taught me so long ago, and kneed him in the groin. He howled and fled.
14
I had a nightmare that I opened the door to my parents’ flat and found nothing but burnt curtains, a tin of baked beans, and two corpses.
We waited all day for the man to attack us again, or at least come back, but there was no sign of him. “Let it go,” said Z. We kept walking.
I found my courage. “Who did all this, Z?”
“People invented a way to make others into puppets. Be glad you’ve forgotten those years.”
15
Four men with guns stopped us entering an abandoned bank, and I noticed Z hid his. “Just move on and no-one will get hurt,” they said.
“You have water,” I realised aloud. Iris began to cry. Z crossed his arms. In the distance, someone else’s flare went off.
“You have guns, and water,” I said, “which means you can save hundreds. Let us send off a flare – please.” Their leader nodded.
16
We stayed overnight outside the bank, and drank our fill as more ragged people gathered. “So few,” I said to Z. He didn’t reply.
As we attempted to digest a breakfast of jerky, someone turned up wearing brilliant purple and a top hat. He grabbed rubbish and juggled it.
Iris laughed for the first time, and we asked Hugh to join us. His hands shook with hunger as he ate, but he told jokes (with a full mouth).
17
Hugh and Iris guarded yet another door as Z and I checked for supplies inside. We found mouldy bread, and a cat with three kittens.
“Wait!” I told Z. I found an empty box and used a scavenged knife to make holes in the lid. Then I called Iris inside for her present.
Iris’ eyes widened, and when the box meowed her mouth dropped open. “Can I keep it?” she said. Z shrugged. And “Fluffy” made five.
18
Fluffy liked jerky no more than I did, but she caught herself a mouse. “She’s the most useful provider here,” said Z. Iris giggled.
“This apocalypse isn’t so bad after all,” said Hugh. I said, “Speak for yourself – I missed half my adolescence.” “Even better,” he said.
“Who stopped it? Why am I awake now?” I asked. Z interrupted, “Same man that started it all. Seems he regretted it. He’s dead now.” “Good.”
19
Yay! Finally some more running water. We let off another flare and settled down to wait for people to arrive.
A pregnant woman came first. Z gave her his gun and taught her how to reload. She said, “If you had a proper name I’d give it to the kid.”
20
The lady had her own loyal posse before we left. We were running low on jerky, and I was secretly grateful. Starvation looked nicer.
21
We found a huge storeroom full of cans – and a can opener. Too bad it was electric. Hugh laughed so hard I eventually joined in.
“Here!” said Iris. She’d found self-opening cans. Too bad it was cat food. I’d gone from sixteen to a senior citizen in what felt like days.
We feasted on jellymeat and seafood cocktail loaf, and loaded ourselves with more. Fluffy refused to eat it. Weirdo cat.
15
Four men with guns stopped us entering an abandoned bank, and I noticed Z hid his. “Just move on and no-one will get hurt,” they said.
“You have water,” I realised aloud. Iris began to cry. Z crossed his arms. In the distance, someone else’s flare went off.
“You have guns, and water,” I said, “which means you can save hundreds. Let us send off a flare – please.”
Their leader nodded.
16
We stayed overnight outside the bank, and drank our fill as more ragged people gathered. “So few,” I said to Z. He didn’t reply.
As we attempted to digest a breakfast of jerky, someone turned up wearing brilliant purple and a top hat. He grabbed rubbish and juggled it.
Iris laughed for the first time, and we asked Hugh to join us. His hands shook with hunger as he ate, but he told jokes (with a full mouth).
17
Hugh and Iris guarded yet another door as Z and I checked for supplies inside. We found mouldy bread, and a cat with three kittens.
“Wait!” I told Z. I found an empty box and used a scavenged knife to make holes in the lid. Then I called Iris inside for her present.
Iris’ eyes widened, and when the box meowed her mouth dropped open. “Can I keep it?” she said.
Z shrugged. And “Fluffy” made five.
18
Fluffy liked jerky no more than I did, but she caught herself a mouse. “She’s the most useful provider here,” said Z. Iris giggled.
“This apocalypse isn’t so bad after all,” said Hugh.
I said, “Speak for yourself – I missed half my adolescence.”
“Even better,” he said.
“Who stopped it? Why am I awake now?” I asked.
Z interrupted, “Same man that started it all. Seems he regretted it. He’s dead now.”
“Good.”
19
Yay! Finally some more running water. We let off another flare and settled down to wait for people to arrive.
A pregnant woman came first. Z gave her his gun and taught her how to reload. She said, “If you had a proper name I’d give it to the kid.”
20
The lady had her own loyal posse before we left. We were running low on jerky, and I was secretly grateful. Starvation looked nicer.
21
We found a huge storeroom full of cans – and a can opener. Too bad it was electric. Hugh laughed so hard I eventually joined in.
“Here!” said Iris. She’d found self-opening cans. Too bad it was cat food. I’d gone from sixteen to a senior citizen in what felt like days.
We feasted on jellymeat and seafood cocktail loaf, and loaded ourselves with more. Fluffy refused to eat it. Weirdo cat.
22
“Oh,” I gasped, and stood still.
Hugh said, “What is it?”
“I remember this park,” I said.
Z flopped onto a bench, “Lunch, then?”
I ate my share of chicken chunks and walked to the place where a pond used to be. There was a skeleton half-buried in mud, wearing pearls.
Iris blinked and said, “Couldn’t we just steal a chisel – for the cans?”
I slapped my head: “I’m so dumb! But can we find my parents first?”
23
We trudged endlessly through empty streets. “What about your family?” I asked Hugh.
“Got none,” he said, “and didn’t have none before.”
At dinner Hugh began to teach Iris to juggle. Z sidled up to me and sat so close we touched – for warmth, he said. We lay down side by side.
24
“One more sleep,” I said, “and then I’ll find out if my parents are alive.”
Iris said, “Do you think we could try to find mine – one day?”
“Z isn’t your dad?” I said.
They both snorted at exactly the same time.
That was apparently Hugh’s cue to do cartwheels. And why not?
25
“Go on then, wimp,” said Z.
I lifted my heavy arm and knocked. From within my old home, I heard footsteps.
For a second I thought Mum was Grandma, back from the dead. She was OLD. “Fay?” she said.
I nodded.
“Ben!” she screamed.
Dad came running.
All of us cried and hugged and cried, and Z excused himself. At last Mum stepped back. “Where HAVE you been?!”
I sighed and rolled my eyes.
26
We slept on the floor, more comfortable than anywhere I’d been since my old life. Mum had carrots, and potatoes, and far too much lettuce.
Dad took me aside: “You’re all grown now, and you should know the truth: we’ll run out of food in a matter of weeks. Even the garden.”
I hugged him and smiled: “One question: Do you have a can opener?”
“Of course,” he said.
I said, “Then don’t worry. It’s ALL good.”
THE END
“The Vampire Diaries” twitter tale begins on June 3 – because I have SO much more vampire mocking to do.
Life as a National Geographic spread
I walked into the living room yesterday and glanced at the fish to discover Sherlock eating something that turned out to be half of one of the neon tetras.
“What do they eat when they can’t get hobbit?” – LOTR quote.
It’s pretty disturbing to see one pet kill and eat another pet. But it’s about as natural as a fish tank can get. He hasn’t eaten another one yet (I imagine he’s still rather full) but I’ll be keeping a close eye on developments. I may make a decision to separate him (at least until he gets better at eating his own food – which, ironically, the neon tetras have been eating).
So much for fish tanks being peaceful.
#6: Steal a plant
I just committed a crime. Don’t tell anyone.
The penalty for theft in Australia is up to seven years in jail.
You’ve probably heard of “black gold” (oil), white gold (for jewellery) and yellow gold (that’d be the normal type). For many months now, I’ve lusted after green gold – mint leaves. I discovered earlier this year that you can buy bunches of mint leaves from the supermarket for an exorbitant price. Later on, I discovered that this wonderful stuff can also be accurately described as a noxious weed. Since I am far better at growing weeds than plants, I saw my chance.
I know at least three people who have mint growing in their back yards (two of them unwillingly). But hardened criminals like myself are bone lazy, and prefer crime to the hassle of gainful employment (such as, in this case, politely asking my mother-in-law for a clipping). Walking past the heady scent of my neighbour’s mint plant week by week was sending me mad with gold fever.
So, as I sat down to write this morning in my usual workday attire (ie, what I wore to bed last night) I couldn’t take it any more. With not even a pause to put on proper clothes, brush my teeth, or actually wear weather-appropriate shoes, I exited the house and nonchalantly committed my crime – theft of one and a bit mint plants. And by “nonchalant” I mean that when a falling leave crackled nearby, I jumped guiltily. Twice. (I blame the season of autumn for acting suspicious.)
It was surprisingly easy to pull the green gold out of its pot by the roots. I also cut off a smaller bit as a backup.
The instant I reached the safety of my hideout, I took photographic evidence of the crime (since it was raining, I also have somewhat blurry glasses). Do you think my beanie looks shifty? I do.
I put the backup sprig into a glass of water on a sunny windowsill (as I’ve seen real gardeners do), and planted the other on my front porch. Aren’t they cute?
My hands smell wonderful now. I keep sniffing my fingers (again, not suspicious behaviour at ALL). And since the aforementioned sunny shelf is the top shelf of my desk, my whole workplace smells minty-fresh and green and alive. Kids, crime is GREAT.
Incidentally, today the extremely vibrant and delightful Alexandra hosted a guest post from me (as far as I can tell, her site is PG at worst, but as always I make no guarantees). http://unicornsforsocialism.com/2010/05/24/because-gods-need-social-networking-too/. I hope she’s not implicated when the fuzz comes to take me to the slammer.
Play along at home: Next time you’re in a supermarket, find the fresh mint leaves and smell them. Make sure you handle them, so your hands smell marvellous for the rest of your day. Alternatively, steal and/or grow your own (wise people grow mint in pots), or pick a different herb to grow (either outside or near a window where the smell can fill your days). Let me know if you do, so I can feel like I’m making the world minty-fresh.
Tomorrow is very exciting!
Tomorrow I’ll be posting pics and video from an event that took place last night – my friend W’s suggestion: Dance in a Supermarket.
Felicity Banks 