#152: Get in Healthy Weight Range
One of my New Year’s Resolutions (remember those?) was to get in the healthy weight range and stay there for twelve months. I discovered a patently incorrect BMI calculator online that said I’m all good if I just weigh 78 kilos (I’m 175cm). So that’s the weight I’ll be going for.
Right now I weigh 80.9 kilos, so I need to lose just under three, which I’m fairly sure I can do in three weeks. One tiny problem: that means no chocolate and no candy for the first week, and very little for the other two weeks (and let’s not look past that). Each Friday, I’ll let you know how much I weigh, and how I feel.
Play along at home: Are you overweight or underweight? Do you think you can eat healthily for a week (or perhaps just one full day)? Tell me about it, because I WILL be feeling your pain.
As always on Fridays, here’s the twitter tale so far (it ends on the 26th):
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.
#151: Watch “Iron Man 2”
Mmm. . . geekalicious.
Don’t worry, this entry is spoiler-safe.
I really, really liked “Sherlock Holmes”. (I don’t name my fish after just anyone.) It’s the best movie I’ve seen this year by quite a bit. So I couldn’t help comparing Iron Man’s sequel to Robert Downey Jr’s other 2010 movie. And, not surprisingly, it wasn’t as good.
“Iron Man 2” was still very good – Robert Downey Jr has fantastic chemistry with Gwyneth Paltrow, Scarlett Johanssen, Sam Rockwell, Mickey Roarke, Don Cheadle, Samuel L. Jackson, and a robot. I thought Mickey Roarke as the main bad guy was genuinely interesting and compelling (usually I find bad guys deeply boring – including the “Sherlock Holmes” ones).
This movie’s biggest flaw was what I called “Pirates of the Carribean sequel syndrome” which is when there are too many big stars and each has to have their special screen moment. No. Stick to perhaps three main characters, including one main bad guy, and add one wild card character if you need them for a subplot (eg. Scarlett Johansson as a potential love interest). You can have the other characters, just spend much much less time on them. Repeat after me: Only three truly main characters. Three! Not seven.
I was most annoyed that things between Iron Man and Miss Potts had to take a back seat. That whole plot required memories from the first movie to sustain it. Also, the things that happened with Rhodes didn’t actually make sense motivationally. And a certain scene with Scarlett Johansson just made me giggle – and not in the way they were aiming for.
However.
“Iron Man 2” has enormous charisma, and countless priceless/intriguing moments. (Robert Downey Jr’s first scene is perfect.) It also understands what the purpose of it is – to be geekalicious – and it makes sure it has about a dozen supercool moments of sheer geeky joy (a normal good movie has 2-3 excellent moments). I think 90% of the S.H.I.E.L.D. subplot should have been canned – but I’m certain my husband would disagree. He is a serious comic book geek, while I just read a few of the really good ones. And I admit I enjoyed SHIELD, too.
It’s less than 24 hours since I saw the film, and I’m looking forward to seeing it again (though not paying for it a second time).
This movie is more than a guilty pleasure, and it’s more than just a geek movie. The action is excellent and interesting (I also generally find action scenes boring, but this franchise puts genuine character into them, which makes them worth having), and the characterisation is way above average (just without the time to do properly for so many).
I really enjoyed it.
As I researched (*cough* Wikipedia *cough*) this entry, I discovered that most of the great aspects of Mickey Roarke’s character were invented BY MICKEY ROARKE. I’m going to have to go and watch everything else he ever did.
Play along at home: See “Iron Man 2” (or for bonus points, see “Sherlock Holmes” instead).
My plan for tomorrow is to spend many hours in bed with the heater on re-reading “Deep Water” (book two of Pamela Freeman’s Castings trilogy – written for adults, not kids). This is very awesome for me but not super awesome to read about, so I’ll be borrowing a post from Emmy Lennevald, who is also diving into Steff Metal’s list of awesomeness and blogging about it. Enjoy!
S#75: Build a Fort
Step 1: Oust previous occupants of land.
Step 2: Build Fort (with awesome weighting and entrance facilities).
Step 3: Open skylight (somewhat easier with a glass-topped table like this one).
Step 4: Allow previous occupants to destroy your new home (it’s only fair). As happens ominously often, this rule applies equally well to either pets or children.
Step 5: Repeat as needed.
Play along at home: Self-explanatory – but this is one of those rare times being short (which I’m not) is an advantage. So if you’re under six feet, it’s your duty to yourself to BUILD A FORT next time you feel you could use some defence against the world.
Tomorrow: Seeing “Iron Man 2” (which I’m actually seeing tonight :P)
Thursday: Guest post
Side note: Under torture, my friend Ben confessed today that he discovered my acts of reverse burglary “like, two weeks ago” but he “just wanted to see how desperately obvious you would get.”
I’ve been got.
In other news, no – Secret # 6 has not yet been and gone. I am still waiting for a rather. . . specific (shall we say) item to arrive.
S#74: The Old Fashioned Way
As you know, soup grows in tiny little tins on a soup tree. The tins ripen and turn metallic, and then they’re picked and sold in the tin-tree aisle of your local supermarket. Today I chose to make a different kind of soup – the kind from Actual Vegetables.
I confess I’ve made home-made soup before, but only since last year. As a result, the process still fills me with wonder. In this photo, you can see green lentils in the glass jar, and the result of adding them to soup in the glass lidded bowl: green soup (despite having a whole pumpkin in it). In a moment of foolishness, I bought a huge pack of carrots lately (Why? I don’t know). In order to get rid of the carrots, I bought all the other vegies you see here:
I was determined that THIS time, I’d have orange-coloured soup. So I used no green ingredients whatsoever (I used chickpeas instead of lentils, since both are a fabulous source of protein and I didn’t feel like red lentils). I chopped and fried the onion with garlic, ginger, cumin, coriander and tumeric. (Cumin and coriander are anti-farting ingredients, as I discovered during research for my children’s book “Farting my ABCs”. Tumeric is an extremely powerful dye, but you can remove it from benchtops with baking soda and white vinegar.) The stock needs to be dissolved in boiling water, so I did that and mixed it in before adding everything else and boiling it for over half an hour (the pot in the background is the chickpeas, since I bought dried ones and I like to hydrate them by boiling, but wasn’t sure they’d cope with everything else boiling in the same pot). Later on, I added a tomato too (why not?)
My friend Ann tasted it and said, “That’s not nearly as disgusting as I expected.” (Thanks Ann!) I should probably explain that she doesn’t like pumpkin soup.
And of course I put sour cream on top.
Definitely orange – yay!
Since I followed the soup with a ham, beetroot, avocado and cheese sandwich (and a mushroom), I had literally ten different vegies in the space of half an hour. That’s a world record in the life of Louise.
In other good news, I cut up the whole pumpkin without slicing myself once. Hurrah! For the weak/uncoordinated, I recommend butternut over regular pumpkin any day.
Play along at home: All you really need is a pumpkin and some stock (plus whatever else is lingering in your fridge – hopefully an onion). Boil, blend, and eat!
Coming super soon: Wear a tiara, sarcastic dream diary, build a fort. . . and more.
And one last mention of the reverse burglary saga:
Ben! Beardy Ben. Sarcastic Ben. Funny Ben. It’s you. Your sister let me in when I knew you were out.
Go thou and eat.
S#41: Wear a Mask
Masks scare me. Seeing someone in a mask scares me. Wearing a mask scares me. Sometimes, hearing other people talk about a mask scares me.
So tonight I went to a mask party. I borrowed CJ’s mask for this photo. . .
But actually wore this eye patch:
CJ made it look debonair.
Our host was suitably spectacular:
But his wife was the best. She wore her first mask for about an hour, and spoke not a word. The only sound she made was the jingling of bells as she moved – yet she still played hostess, and even re-introduced me to someone I haven’t seen since Year Four. It was one of the creepiest – and most fascinating – things I’ve ever seen. With absolutely no facial expression, she expressed herself perfectly. She wasn’t actually trying to be creepy, or to communicate so efficiently – she was just wearing a mask, and it took over.
They always do.
Each table had a white mask and paint to play with. We made this for the host, and he was confident enough in his manhood to wear it.
Somehow this mask was attached to balloons. For the rest of the evening, the air conditioning made it wander around the room – in absolute silence, of course. Oh, and the glitter stuck on the back made the eye-sockets glint in the artificial light.
I chose to paint this mask with red eyes. Because something that’s evil should look evil.
The weirdest thing of all is how good I feel, writing this after such a creepy evening. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe it’s relief that the floating mask of death didn’t steal my soul, and my red-eyed mask didn’t come alive, and the hostess didn’t eat anyone’s unborn child. Who knows?
Play along at home: You can buy white masks at toy and trick shops, often with a selection of paints and a brush. Alternatively, you can just eat a whole lot of cheese just before bed (for even cheaper, easier nightmares).
Reverse Burglary – I think this picture was lost to the aether this week. My apologies.
Look at the jar, and read thy name (or not). If it’s a derivative of your name, then that very jar is in your TV cabinet right now (and the Blackpool souvenir stick is in your couch).
#144: Three days without junk food
As the minimally observant would have picked up by now, I have a weakness for chocolate. So this week I picked three days, and went absolutely without chocolate, lollies, or any kind of junk food.
(Most of this week’s entries were done a while ago, knowing “Three days without junk food” was coming up.)
I drank a glass of diet coke each morning to minimise the side-effects of caffeine withdrawal (headaches, shaking etc – seriously).
Within hours I was freaking out. I cried more than once a day – once in a public place. It was extremely difficult to keep myself from bashing my head against things. I made some odd decisions for no apparent reason. But I did it. And I’m going to do it again next week, and keep doing it until I am a little less weak, and can consistently eat chocolate in moderation.
This isn’t so much a moment of “Daily Awesomeness” as a much-needed lifestyle change.
PS: Today technically IS next week, and this week’s three days without junk went really well. It’s not easy or quick, but I have reached the point now where I can comprehend a life of moderate eating. That’s pretty amazing.
Tomorrow: S#41: Wear a Mask
#149: Alien Creatures (aka Go Fish!)
Getting fish has been one of the most expensive and traumatic things I’ve ever done, but it’s also been one of the most rewarding. On Wednesday I went one step further and bought two bottom feeders – one eats algae (not that I have any – yet) and the other eats snail eggs (which I have a disturbingly large amount of). This means that I have the beginnings of a genuine ecosystem, with some of my living creatures/plants getting eaten by others. How awesome is that?!?
Bottom feeders move quite differently to other fish, and I’m loving watching them, and the interactions between species. Sherlock Holmes is the carnivore. He’s a reticula pakistan (I think), and he’s about the same size as Gandalf (my fighting fish). He has beautiful golden stripes, and alternates between manic investigation of the front wall (with his nose-whiskers) and pretending to be part of our hollow log. Gandalf is an unusually sociable fish, and he finds Sherlock fascinating. Sherlock returned the favour, swimming around Gandalf and employing his whiskers to figure out what that blue blur was all about. The funniest part was Gandalf’s reaction. He wasn’t hurt at all, but was totally weirded out. Instead of jerking away (as he does when bitten – something that doesn’t happen any more since there aren’t any danios), he went very still. What I learned today: a confused fish is a cute fish. Here’s Sherlock near his abode of choice:
Watson is a tiny bristlenose catfish not much bigger than my neon tetras. He’s black with white spots, and is VERY good at vanishing. Some of the tetras got confused and deliberately swam into him to try to figure out what he was. The tetras are the flourescent ones, and Watson is trying his best to blend into the fake log (Sherlock appears again in the foreground):
Play along at home: If you possibly can, visit an aquarium. Or a dentist’s waiting room. Fish are SO WEIRD. Respect the weirdness.
AND THEN I WOKE UP (story so far):
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.”
PS Still not sure who the reverse burglary victim is? Scroll down to the large picture of the candy shop candy, and read the brand name on the jar at the back. That’s his/her name!
Secret # 6 will happen some day, but not anytime soon (there’s a certain. . . item. . . that isn’t in stock at the moment). I’ll let you all know!
#108: Take someone on a date
My husband and I celebrate our monthly anniversaries. It’s one day a month where we have to do something awesome together and/or I get an excuse to forget about dinner plans and dishes and just enjoy food that appears like magic on the table in front of us (and he gets to not do as many dishes).
Last night we went to the ANU film club (anyone can be a member – you can pay as little as $15 for a week of movies http://anufg.org.au) and saw “Away We Go”. Because we buy membership at the beginning of the year, this was a “free” event.
We also ate an entire pack of Mars Pods. Mmm. . .
I always nibble off the biscuit then enjoy the weirdly-shaped chocolate and filling. It’s possible they’re the best lolly ever. But I digress. . .
Outside of the ANU Film Club program, I’d never heard of the movie (despite the fact that Maggie Gyllenhaal and a few other familiar faces were in it). It was described as an indie comedy-drama, and it’s about a couple that gets pregnant and travels around visiting friends and family in search of the right place to bring up their child. There’s a lot of extremely odd people (this is NOT a PG film – it opens with a funny sex scene – although they don’t show any visuals), and some heartbreaking tragedies. But mostly it’s incredibly funny and warm. It has lines including:
-That doesn’t make you look crazy at all.
-Would it be wrong to tell my daughter her mum was murdered?
-It’s all about the three S’s: No separation, no sugar, and no strollers.
No. . . strollers?
I love my children. Why would I choose to push my child away?
http://www.metacafe.com/watch/2642135/away_we_go_movie_trailer/
I really, really enjoyed it.
Play along at home: Pick someone – anyone – you love, and go on a date with them. I recommend taking one of your parents (because you probably don’t spend much time just talking to them – especially not just one at a time).
I just – literally this moment – discovered that yesterday’s post didn’t publish. I’ll take care of that immediately after this.
#3: Go mad in a lolly shop
You’ve gotta love the SERIOUS lolly shop. I don’t mean the confectionary aisle of the supermarket (treasure trove of wonders, yes – but still not the same thing). I mean THE lolly shop. The one with peculiar feasts from distant lands, and with lollies you’ve never heard of before. And with strange items in jars and an entire huge table brimming with tiny clear-plastic bags of utterly sinful mystery.
The lolly shop I chose for today’s awesomeness was the one (I can never remember the name) in Gold Creek, Gungahlin, Canberra, Australia. After getting lost and asking directions (as I do every single time) I found the shop and wandered, drooling, until I eventually made my choices.
The skittles were a different colour inside than out. I had meant to ascertain, for journalistic reasons, whether they were always the same combination (such as blue on the outside, pink on the inside) but, although I tested them extensively, I did so mainly while in my car, driving, at night. As a result, although I have memories of biting them in half and looking inside, I was unable to remember from one skittle to the next whether the internal colouring was consistent or not. (This lack of fact-finding journalism is why my blog hasn’t yet been picked up by any major newspapers.)
As always, I thoroughly enjoyed the jelly belly jelly beans (my favourite flavours are toasted marshmallow and buttered popcorn).
The flying saucers were startlingly sour.
And then there was this. . .
It was $4.20, and I really bit off more than I could chew with that one. In fact, I couldn’t bite it at all. This is after three hours:
After five hours, I was thrilled to be able to fit it in my mouth – just.
It took SEVEN HOURS to eat. My tongue hurt, my cheeks hurt, and my jaw hurt.
Don’t do gobstoppers, kids.
Play along at home: Eat a $4.20 gobstopper (if you’re an IDIOT, like me). Or just some kind of unique candy. Mmm.
And now. . . the reverse burglary locations revealed. Go back to the photo above. See that big stick thing? I pushed that between the cushions of your couch (nice couch, by the way). The jar of hard lollies in the background is inside your TV cabinet.
Let me know when you’ve found them!
Felicity Banks 