Found.Sunday, November 30, 2008
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Saturday, November 29, 2008
It's all water under the burnt bridge.
Throughout life, we meet people with whom we have an immediate connection. Friendship develops very quickly. You're suddenly inseparable. When it all falls apart as quickly as it started, it's difficult to accept.
I once met a person, and with her I shared a fleeting but intense friendship. Three days after meeting, I was her confidante. She shared her darkest secrets, her hopes and dreams. It seemed we would be Lifers. And then it just exploded. In public. It was all over.
After a few stilted attempts to reignite, we drifted apart. She said some very nasty things. It still stings to think of them.
I saw her today. I was innocently walking along, happily mocking the Christmas pomp. We were on our way back to the car, when my eyes were pulled toward her. I can't tell if she saw me or not. I quickly looked away. It took me a moment to recognise her. It has been over three years. I don't know if she noticed me. I kept walking, and ever since I've wondered if that was the right thing to do.
I once met a person, and with her I shared a fleeting but intense friendship. Three days after meeting, I was her confidante. She shared her darkest secrets, her hopes and dreams. It seemed we would be Lifers. And then it just exploded. In public. It was all over.
After a few stilted attempts to reignite, we drifted apart. She said some very nasty things. It still stings to think of them.
I saw her today. I was innocently walking along, happily mocking the Christmas pomp. We were on our way back to the car, when my eyes were pulled toward her. I can't tell if she saw me or not. I quickly looked away. It took me a moment to recognise her. It has been over three years. I don't know if she noticed me. I kept walking, and ever since I've wondered if that was the right thing to do.
Pearls - Circa 2003-4.
My email inbox was recently accessed without my authorisation. As such, I am in the process of transferring all the emails I want to keep to my HD. I then intend to investigate other options.
It was interesting to read over the dusty emails. Below, I will share a few sentences that stood out. Do not judge me! I was young and naive. And single.
"Dave looks like a monkey, but for some reason I still think he's hot... I need to get over the Foo Fighters and stay on topic for more than three words. "
"If he's after some sort of casual arrangement, then maybe we can set him up with Big Foot and Small Dick and they can have a lovely threesome."
"This guy that I am chatting to turns out to be 18. And not that hot. There goes that. He met me by chatting to himself. Interesting. I said that maybe I'm just a figment of his imagination. Now I am his Inner Woman. Weirdest conversation I've had in a while!"
"Anyway, the reason that I wrote was because I need to share something that made me giggle. I'm sitting in the common room surrounded by 5 guys!!! I'm a little outnumbered, but it's kinda funny because when I came over and sat down they all looked at me, then they looked at each other and grinned. Then one of them said a little too loudly "Man, she's first rate"!!!! lol. Funny stuff. This jacket was so worth the $99!"
"Okay, Cute Guy isn't cute anymore. Only one half of his face is."
"He has a'UniGear' bag though, which kinda makes me suspect that he's a dumb arse - like he needs his bag to tell him where to put his uni gear."
"I told him that he really has a way with the ladies, his maturity is astounding and that he should call me when he sprouts his first pubic hair."
"I'm in the common room as usual. I have finally realised why it's called the common room. There are no stunners here BECAUSE ALL THE GUYS ARE COMMON. Why did I not realise this sooner?"
"We need to start a band. Seriously. You look cool behind a set of drums. Seriously. And I'll learn more bass. Seriously."
"I think that guy that I met on the net that is ACTUALLY IN THE COMMON ROOM - He keeps looking at me. I'm almost certain that its him. Damn me and my bloody pink jacket and socks! He knows I have a pink jacket and pink socks. Faeces, etc. How embarrassing! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkk! I'm burying my head in paper just so that he doesn't see me again."
It was interesting to read over the dusty emails. Below, I will share a few sentences that stood out. Do not judge me! I was young and naive. And single.
"Dave looks like a monkey, but for some reason I still think he's hot... I need to get over the Foo Fighters and stay on topic for more than three words. "
"If he's after some sort of casual arrangement, then maybe we can set him up with Big Foot and Small Dick and they can have a lovely threesome."
"This guy that I am chatting to turns out to be 18. And not that hot. There goes that. He met me by chatting to himself. Interesting. I said that maybe I'm just a figment of his imagination. Now I am his Inner Woman. Weirdest conversation I've had in a while!"
"Anyway, the reason that I wrote was because I need to share something that made me giggle. I'm sitting in the common room surrounded by 5 guys!!! I'm a little outnumbered, but it's kinda funny because when I came over and sat down they all looked at me, then they looked at each other and grinned. Then one of them said a little too loudly "Man, she's first rate"!!!! lol. Funny stuff. This jacket was so worth the $99!"
"Okay, Cute Guy isn't cute anymore. Only one half of his face is."
"He has a
"I told him that he really has a way with the ladies, his maturity is astounding and that he should call me when he sprouts his first pubic hair."
"I'm in the common room as usual. I have finally realised why it's called the common room. There are no stunners here BECAUSE ALL THE GUYS ARE COMMON. Why did I not realise this sooner?"
"We need to start a band. Seriously. You look cool behind a set of drums. Seriously. And I'll learn more bass. Seriously."
"I think that guy that I met on the net that is ACTUALLY IN THE COMMON ROOM - He keeps looking at me. I'm almost certain that its him. Damn me and my bloody pink jacket and socks! He knows I have a pink jacket and pink socks. Faeces, etc. How embarrassing! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkk! I'm burying my head in paper just so that he doesn't see me again."
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
A quick note...
I fear that my days are being filled with the rantings of randoms [As opposed to this area being filled with random rants]. As such, when I get home, I'm ready to go to sleep. Hence, no photos.
I have been taking a photo each day, and will do my best to upload asap. I'm very disappointed as I had intended to not only take a photo every day, but share it same day as well. I will endeavour to get more sleep, and get back on track.
Incidentally, if anyone is interested in seeing any photos R and I took while on holiday, please let me know. I don't want to bore those not interested. A comment here would be appreciated.
Too sleep deprived to be sincere,
Agnes. The Real[TM] one.
I have been taking a photo each day, and will do my best to upload asap. I'm very disappointed as I had intended to not only take a photo every day, but share it same day as well. I will endeavour to get more sleep, and get back on track.
Incidentally, if anyone is interested in seeing any photos R and I took while on holiday, please let me know. I don't want to bore those not interested. A comment here would be appreciated.
Too sleep deprived to be sincere,
Agnes. The Real[TM] one.
"There's something fishy about those pommes frites"
While imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, would you really choose imitation brandy over the real thing after a hard days night? Imagine!
Today, it seems, a dentally challenged gent/gentile walked the poplar lined paths of the global village in my shoes.
No. Not a drag queen.
Yes, possums. An imposter. Agnes Phoney attempted to sell the following item:
After a delightful chat with the chap at eBay, my account has been restored to its former glory. I do not however take kindly to miscreants parading in my persona. It's one thing to walk a mile in another lady's shoes, it is another entirely to force your way into her non-pants (she's not in them) and pretend you are a Duchess.
Put down that blonde wig, and don't think for a second that your tacky accent is fooling anyone, fool. *Pity*
I'm going to call Today Tonight! And ACA - BRING BACK RAY *swoon*
Sincerely synthetic,
Agnes J. Stone.
Today, it seems, a dentally challenged gent/gentile walked the poplar lined paths of the global village in my shoes.
No. Not a drag queen.
AN IMPOSTER.
*GASP*
Yes, possums. An imposter. Agnes Phoney attempted to sell the following item:
Apple MacBook Pro 15" 2.53GHz - 4GB - 320GB
Signed by Agnes J. Stone - Loved and treasured by all who know her.
[Embellishment].
Signed by Agnes J. Stone - Loved and treasured by all who know her.
[Embellishment].
After a delightful chat with the chap at eBay, my account has been restored to its former glory. I do not however take kindly to miscreants parading in my persona. It's one thing to walk a mile in another lady's shoes, it is another entirely to force your way into her non-pants (she's not in them) and pretend you are a Duchess.
Put down that blonde wig, and don't think for a second that your tacky accent is fooling anyone, fool. *Pity*
I'm going to call Today Tonight! And ACA - BRING BACK RAY *swoon*
Sincerely synthetic,
Agnes J. Stone.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Photo of the day...
Will be posted a day late.
The previous post took longer than expected and I should have been asleep by now.
Damn stream of consciousness flooding over.
She's a scatman! Sincerely,
Agnes.
The previous post took longer than expected and I should have been asleep by now.
Damn stream of consciousness flooding over.
She's a scatman! Sincerely,
Agnes.
The Glad Game SHOW
There is perhaps nothing more terrifying than finding out your Mother reads your blog [Well, on that day at least]. Hi Mum! Look at me, I'm on the tele! Internet!
My first thought was: "[Expletive deleted] what the [expletive deleted] have I [expletive deleted] said about her?".
After a quick skim of my blog [Not even I can read the whole thing. I'm too busy living it, darling] I was unable to find any mention of her.
I've been saving this joke up for so long, that I simply must blurt it out here. That way no one can strike me immediately. Here goes:
Nope. Too much pressure.
I've built it up now.
It will just fall flat. Like the rest of my jokes. I'll reveal it on my birthday. You don't know my birthday? WELL WELL WELL.
Hmm... Now where was I? Oh, right. In the midst of a mood swing. Carry on.
Dum de dum de dum.
Moving right along...
I'll take this opportunity to introduce some of the minor characters in the life that is my movie. In no particular order:
MOTHER: Still has not told me that Santa doesn't exist. SORRY KIDDIES. You shouldn't be reading this anyway. Do your homework! I have, however, assisted with the Christmas shopping for my siblings for some time now. Love your work.
She's stronger than she knows. She just needs to remember that when in doubt, you just have to get some confidence out of a corn flake box and do it! Whatever 'it' is. I wonder if a criminal could use the excuse that an unmentionable shoe brand told him/her to just do it? Hmm..
From her I inherited my... not those! ... ability to draw swans. My haphazard dress sense - trends are for the meek. My thirst for individuality. My open mindedness.
I really respect her for allowing us to form our own opinions and make sense of the world in a non-judgemental way.
She's pretty cool. I like her.
FATHER: Still has not told me that Santa doesn't exist. SORRY KIDDIES. You shouldn't be reading this anyway. Go to bed! I have, however, assisted with the Christmas shopping for my siblings for some time now. Love your work.
Father Stone has come a long way. Once unable to be in the same room, we can now talk shit for hours. I mean Expletive Deleted!! Good for a laugh.
From him I inherited my taste in music - Thanks for steering me away from teeny bopper [expletive deleted]. Thanks for introducing me to the Rolling Stones (And my name - Mother and father) (that's not my name, you idiot. They GAVE me my name). Thanks for having the AC/DC poster hang on the back of the Toy Room door.
Dad is open minded too. He is the first to admit that he has a little bit of gay in him. I think he means intrinsically...
He also believes that the key to life is good poo-ing.
I really respect him for evolving as a person... and because he's the only person I know who plays guitar on the roof of his house in broad day light. Or at any time, actually.
BROTHER: He probably knows Santa isn't real. It's not official for me yet, so I'm hoping to score more presents. Relax, Christmas isn't about consumerism. It's about getting wasted while basking in someone else's air conditioning.
He's the best first brother I've ever had. I actually cried the first time I heard him play 'Sweet Child of Mine'. He'd been learning for so long. Very proud moment.
We've had some good times. I think he wanted to hurt me bad when I kicked him between the legs one time. Okay, two or more times. Fair call though.
SISTER: She probably knows Santa isn't real. It's not official for me yet, so I'm hoping to score more presents. Relax, Christmas isn't about consumerism. It's about drinking more than you eat and giving more than you get and spending time with friends and family.
She's the best sister I've ever had. I actually cried the first time I saw her art. Very proud moment. She has a lot of potential and could do anything she sets her mind to.
I had a nightmare once. Right near her birthday. She must have been around 2 or 3 years old. She was wearing her Bulldogs jersey and playing in the paddock between our place and Nan and Pop's. A car stopped out the front, and three men walked up to where we were. We were playing with her new toys. That's when I realised that these men were Baddies. I had to protect my little sister. They threatened to hurt her. I was frozen with fear. I couldn't scream. They walked closer to her.
And then I woke up.
I've been in this constant state of needing to protect her ever since. I must have been around 8 at the time.
BROTHER: He probably knows Santa isn't real. It's not official for me yet, so I'm hoping to score more presents. Relax, Christmas isn't about consumerism. It's about the hangover on Boxing Day and the Lipo you'll ask for next Christmas... Like every other year. Get me a fork and a vacuum cleaner.
He's the best second brother I've ever had. I actually cried when he split his head open on the entertainment unit while dancing as a toddler. Blood spurted everywhere. Made the text red for dramatic effect. You like? Blood curdling scream. "Bloody hell" cried the parents. I just cried because he was dancing to Tom Jones.
He's a good kid. He makes me very proud. Yes, Doofus, you're taller than me. Why is it that all of my siblings (except for Short-Sis) were always so proud of themselves when they grew taller than me? I'm still better than you.
Not true.
He's getting older and I'm hoping he gets his license soon because everyone else is sick of driving me around.
SYLIST: She took Santa's photo. She knows The Truth.
Now living in Melbourne. As such, my wardrobe is suffering tremendously. What does Melbourne have that we don't have here? Oh yeah. EVERYTHING!
I miss her heaps. I don't call her enough because I hate the phone but want to talk to her. Argh! Stupidphone me.
I cried in the car on the way home after saying 'Good bye' when she was leaving.
She's just awesome.
SHORT BLACK: The youngest of my friends, and one of the most wise. He definitely knows about the Santa situation.
I cried when I lost him one day.
He sleeps next to me every night. It might be love.
ORANGE MOCHA FRAPPACCINO: He knows about Santa.
Orange Mocha (as he's known by friends) is the physical representation of my inner state.
I cried when I lost him one day.
And when he bit into my vein and blood poured out of my body and onto the ground. Arriving home after being at the hospital, he sat beside me all night, as if he wanted to make sure I was okay. Or plan his next attack? He tried to lick my hand because he likes the taste of my precious blood he wanted to make it all better.
He sleeps next to me every night. I think it might be love.
COOLBEAN: His parents probably told him about Santa.
He's one of the most patient people I know, and easily one of the smartest. He's Bowie to my Jagger. He sings Magic Dance far too well for a person not wearing silver tights. That's not a request.
I cried when he told me he loved me. And when we made it to the top of the Eiffel Tower.
It's love.
THE THERAPIST: He has Santa stashed under the bed. Oh wait, that's not Santa...
I cried the first time we were intoxicated within the same paddock. I'd just had my hair done and it was stained because I wore a cocktail glass as a party hat. It was full at the time of application.
He is The Wall not to be confused with The Hand. He is also my therapist. He hasn't tried to charge me $150/hour yet, although I'm sure there will be a bill soon. He'll need the cash to buy into Scientology.
Points scored for Karen Walker, Patsy Stone and Amy Sedaris appreciation. Oh, and for being him.
THE ARTIST: She doesn't believe in Santa. She's an Atheist. If he's offering a present though...
With a friendship dating back to bus lines in high school, it's hard to narrow down just a few things to say. Other than: She takes great pleasure in p*ssing herself, literally.
Okay, so maybe there's more than that.
Underneath the carefully selected outer layers, is a deeply thoughtful dreamer. She believes in love.
THE INVENTOR OF THE GLOVE OF DRINKAGE: Hallowed be thy name.
He INVENTED Santa.
This friend slaps. Hard. But only to ensure you're kept hydrated. With vodka, or whatever else is going.
One of the two Communists, he is hands down one of the nicest guys I've ever met. Although he does need to realise that Nic Cage is foul. DEAL WITH IT.
Points scored for being awesome.
If your name isn't mentioned here, do not worry. It means you'll be in the sequel.
Sincerely Glad,
Agnes x
My first thought was: "[Expletive deleted] what the [expletive deleted] have I [expletive deleted] said about her?".
After a quick skim of my blog [Not even I can read the whole thing. I'm too busy living it, darling] I was unable to find any mention of her.
I've been saving this joke up for so long, that I simply must blurt it out here. That way no one can strike me immediately. Here goes:
Nope. Too much pressure.
I've built it up now.
It will just fall flat. Like the rest of my jokes. I'll reveal it on my birthday. You don't know my birthday? WELL WELL WELL.
Hmm... Now where was I? Oh, right. In the midst of a mood swing. Carry on.
Dum de dum de dum.
Moving right along...
I'll take this opportunity to introduce some of the minor characters in the life that is my movie. In no particular order:
MOTHER: Still has not told me that Santa doesn't exist. SORRY KIDDIES. You shouldn't be reading this anyway. Do your homework! I have, however, assisted with the Christmas shopping for my siblings for some time now. Love your work.
She's stronger than she knows. She just needs to remember that when in doubt, you just have to get some confidence out of a corn flake box and do it! Whatever 'it' is. I wonder if a criminal could use the excuse that an unmentionable shoe brand told him/her to just do it? Hmm..
From her I inherited my... not those! ... ability to draw swans. My haphazard dress sense - trends are for the meek. My thirst for individuality. My open mindedness.
I really respect her for allowing us to form our own opinions and make sense of the world in a non-judgemental way.
She's pretty cool. I like her.
FATHER: Still has not told me that Santa doesn't exist. SORRY KIDDIES. You shouldn't be reading this anyway. Go to bed! I have, however, assisted with the Christmas shopping for my siblings for some time now. Love your work.
Father Stone has come a long way. Once unable to be in the same room, we can now talk shit for hours. I mean Expletive Deleted!! Good for a laugh.
From him I inherited my taste in music - Thanks for steering me away from teeny bopper [expletive deleted]. Thanks for introducing me to the Rolling Stones (And my name - Mother and father) (that's not my name, you idiot. They GAVE me my name). Thanks for having the AC/DC poster hang on the back of the Toy Room door.
Dad is open minded too. He is the first to admit that he has a little bit of gay in him. I think he means intrinsically...
He also believes that the key to life is good poo-ing.
I really respect him for evolving as a person... and because he's the only person I know who plays guitar on the roof of his house in broad day light. Or at any time, actually.
BROTHER: He probably knows Santa isn't real. It's not official for me yet, so I'm hoping to score more presents. Relax, Christmas isn't about consumerism. It's about getting wasted while basking in someone else's air conditioning.
He's the best first brother I've ever had. I actually cried the first time I heard him play 'Sweet Child of Mine'. He'd been learning for so long. Very proud moment.
We've had some good times. I think he wanted to hurt me bad when I kicked him between the legs one time. Okay, two or more times. Fair call though.
SISTER: She probably knows Santa isn't real. It's not official for me yet, so I'm hoping to score more presents. Relax, Christmas isn't about consumerism. It's about drinking more than you eat and giving more than you get and spending time with friends and family.
She's the best sister I've ever had. I actually cried the first time I saw her art. Very proud moment. She has a lot of potential and could do anything she sets her mind to.
I had a nightmare once. Right near her birthday. She must have been around 2 or 3 years old. She was wearing her Bulldogs jersey and playing in the paddock between our place and Nan and Pop's. A car stopped out the front, and three men walked up to where we were. We were playing with her new toys. That's when I realised that these men were Baddies. I had to protect my little sister. They threatened to hurt her. I was frozen with fear. I couldn't scream. They walked closer to her.
And then I woke up.
I've been in this constant state of needing to protect her ever since. I must have been around 8 at the time.
BROTHER: He probably knows Santa isn't real. It's not official for me yet, so I'm hoping to score more presents. Relax, Christmas isn't about consumerism. It's about the hangover on Boxing Day and the Lipo you'll ask for next Christmas... Like every other year. Get me a fork and a vacuum cleaner.
He's the best second brother I've ever had. I actually cried when he split his head open on the entertainment unit while dancing as a toddler. Blood spurted everywhere. Made the text red for dramatic effect. You like? Blood curdling scream. "Bloody hell" cried the parents. I just cried because he was dancing to Tom Jones.
He's a good kid. He makes me very proud. Yes, Doofus, you're taller than me. Why is it that all of my siblings (except for Short-Sis) were always so proud of themselves when they grew taller than me? I'm still better than you.
Not true.
He's getting older and I'm hoping he gets his license soon because everyone else is sick of driving me around.
SYLIST: She took Santa's photo. She knows The Truth.
Now living in Melbourne. As such, my wardrobe is suffering tremendously. What does Melbourne have that we don't have here? Oh yeah. EVERYTHING!
I miss her heaps. I don't call her enough because I hate the phone but want to talk to her. Argh! Stupid
I cried in the car on the way home after saying 'Good bye' when she was leaving.
She's just awesome.
SHORT BLACK: The youngest of my friends, and one of the most wise. He definitely knows about the Santa situation.
I cried when I lost him one day.
He sleeps next to me every night. It might be love.
ORANGE MOCHA FRAPPACCINO: He knows about Santa.
Orange Mocha (as he's known by friends) is the physical representation of my inner state.
I cried when I lost him one day.
And when he bit into my vein and blood poured out of my body and onto the ground. Arriving home after being at the hospital, he sat beside me all night, as if he wanted to make sure I was okay. Or plan his next attack? He tried to lick my hand because he likes the taste of my precious blood he wanted to make it all better.
He sleeps next to me every night. I think it might be love.
COOLBEAN: His parents probably told him about Santa.
He's one of the most patient people I know, and easily one of the smartest. He's Bowie to my Jagger. He sings Magic Dance far too well for a person not wearing silver tights. That's not a request.
I cried when he told me he loved me. And when we made it to the top of the Eiffel Tower.
It's love.
THE THERAPIST: He has Santa stashed under the bed. Oh wait, that's not Santa...
I cried the first time we were intoxicated within the same paddock. I'd just had my hair done and it was stained because I wore a cocktail glass as a party hat. It was full at the time of application.
He is The Wall not to be confused with The Hand. He is also my therapist. He hasn't tried to charge me $150/hour yet, although I'm sure there will be a bill soon. He'll need the cash to buy into Scientology.
Points scored for Karen Walker, Patsy Stone and Amy Sedaris appreciation. Oh, and for being him.
THE ARTIST: She doesn't believe in Santa. She's an Atheist. If he's offering a present though...
With a friendship dating back to bus lines in high school, it's hard to narrow down just a few things to say. Other than: She takes great pleasure in p*ssing herself, literally.
Okay, so maybe there's more than that.
Underneath the carefully selected outer layers, is a deeply thoughtful dreamer. She believes in love.
THE INVENTOR OF THE GLOVE OF DRINKAGE: Hallowed be thy name.
He INVENTED Santa.
This friend slaps. Hard. But only to ensure you're kept hydrated. With vodka, or whatever else is going.
One of the two Communists, he is hands down one of the nicest guys I've ever met. Although he does need to realise that Nic Cage is foul. DEAL WITH IT.
Points scored for being awesome.
If your name isn't mentioned here, do not worry. It means you'll be in the sequel.
Sincerely Glad,
Agnes x
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
The Glad Game - 1st Edition
The Glad Game.
What is it?
I'm sure The Glad Game has been around for decades, however it is new to me. Passed on by a remarkable woman (A lovely Patsy Stone/Hyacinth Bucket/Ita Buttrose hybrid - Love her!) around the dinner table in a Tuscan villa, The Glad Game is to be played each day to remind yourself of the good things that happen in what can be a bleak world.
The Rules:
- To start the game: Take a deep breath, smile and say "Let's play The Glad Game".
- Accentuate the positive
- Each person playing The Game must share one thing that made them glad on the day the game is played
- Take turns until all participants are feeling better (or you've drained the bottle)
- Must be positive
- Must support each other. It's not a competition
- Minimum players: 1. No age limit
- Don't let it turn into the I'm Not Glad game
So, given that I am in a particularly foul mood, I will play The Glad Game to show you how it's done.
Let's play The Glad Game.
- I am glad that I made it to the bus stop without getting too wet.
- I am glad I own gum boots.
- I am glad that I have a job and have the money to live the lifestyle I want.
- I am glad that the customers were nice to me today. Thank you.
- I am glad that my photos turned out better than I had expected.
- I am glad that I went to the op shop today.
- I am glad that I have someone to love, and that I am loved back.
- I am glad that I have this game to play.
- I am glad that I have a bed/similar to go to tonight. I'm sheltered from the cold and the rain.
- I am glad that I helped others today.
- I am glad that the sales assistant was so lovely today.
- I am glad that I can paint a French manicure with my left hand.
- I am glad that I can go to bed now, feeling a little less turbulent. Thanks Glad Game!
Sincerely,
Agnes.
What is it?
I'm sure The Glad Game has been around for decades, however it is new to me. Passed on by a remarkable woman (A lovely Patsy Stone/Hyacinth Bucket/Ita Buttrose hybrid - Love her!) around the dinner table in a Tuscan villa, The Glad Game is to be played each day to remind yourself of the good things that happen in what can be a bleak world.
The Rules:
- To start the game: Take a deep breath, smile and say "Let's play The Glad Game".
- Accentuate the positive
- Each person playing The Game must share one thing that made them glad on the day the game is played
- Take turns until all participants are feeling better (or you've drained the bottle)
- Must be positive
- Must support each other. It's not a competition
- Minimum players: 1. No age limit
- Don't let it turn into the I'm Not Glad game
So, given that I am in a particularly foul mood, I will play The Glad Game to show you how it's done.
Let's play The Glad Game.
- I am glad that I made it to the bus stop without getting too wet.
- I am glad I own gum boots.
- I am glad that I have a job and have the money to live the lifestyle I want.
- I am glad that the customers were nice to me today. Thank you.
- I am glad that my photos turned out better than I had expected.
- I am glad that I went to the op shop today.
- I am glad that I have someone to love, and that I am loved back.
- I am glad that I have this game to play.
- I am glad that I have a bed/similar to go to tonight. I'm sheltered from the cold and the rain.
- I am glad that I helped others today.
- I am glad that the sales assistant was so lovely today.
- I am glad that I can paint a French manicure with my left hand.
- I am glad that I can go to bed now, feeling a little less turbulent. Thanks Glad Game!
Sincerely,
Agnes.
& a two finger salute to all.
Someone has been putting speed in my Valium and I'm all out of sorts.
No. I'm not on drugs. Part of the problem?
So tired. So irritable. So !!!!
Remember that really cheap So...? perfume sold at KMart? I always thought it foul. Very popular with the company I kept at the time. Hmm... So indicative of their character...?
Time for happy thoughts. Let's play the Glad Game.
No. I'm not on drugs. Part of the problem?
So tired. So irritable. So !!!!
Remember that really cheap So...? perfume sold at KMart? I always thought it foul. Very popular with the company I kept at the time. Hmm... So indicative of their character...?
Time for happy thoughts. Let's play the Glad Game.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
PRESS PLAY
Link --> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OG_6CopW9GQ
This is how I feel right now.
This morning, I dropped off two films for developing. So. Nerve wracking.
I anxiously filled in time until I could go pick them up. Would any of them turn out?
There is nothing better than flicking through photos still hot off the press. Every one of them turned out. Some of them are even *shudder* good. Oh, yeah!
SO happy.
I also found my camera cable today, so prepare for the onslaught.
Sincerely singing 'OH YEAH',
Agnes.
This is how I feel right now.
This morning, I dropped off two films for developing. So. Nerve wracking.
I anxiously filled in time until I could go pick them up. Would any of them turn out?
There is nothing better than flicking through photos still hot off the press. Every one of them turned out. Some of them are even *shudder* good. Oh, yeah!
SO happy.
I also found my camera cable today, so prepare for the onslaught.
Sincerely singing 'OH YEAH',
Agnes.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Some people become so bitter after turning thirty
*Click*: "...there's definitely the feeling that what these young people need is a jolly good recession to shake them up."
When will the Baby Doomers realise that their mere existence is going to throw the economy into a spin as they become more of a burden on the public health care system? With the aging population, Generation Y will be working to pay their pensions, and will also be their medical health professionals. Be nice.
As for Generation (lack of se)X, they were young once too. Since hitting thirty, losing their sense of fun and tying themselves down; they really have become boring old saps.
The fact is, the recession is going to hit the Baby Boomers and Gen X harder. Gen Y are much too frivolous to have too much financial responsibility.
When will the Baby Doomers realise that their mere existence is going to throw the economy into a spin as they become more of a burden on the public health care system? With the aging population, Generation Y will be working to pay their pensions, and will also be their medical health professionals. Be nice.
As for Generation (lack of se)X, they were young once too. Since hitting thirty, losing their sense of fun and tying themselves down; they really have become boring old saps.
The fact is, the recession is going to hit the Baby Boomers and Gen X harder. Gen Y are much too frivolous to have too much financial responsibility.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Bring me luck, oh five leaf clover
10 Years Ago (1998):
1. I was in Year 9
2. I went on holiday to Brisbane with family
3. I invented a new excuse to avoid doing PE every prac
4. I watched Home and Away and Neighbours (Come now. I was young and naive).
5. I spent a lot of time listening to The Colour and the Shape
5 Things on Today’s “To Do” List:
1. De-puff eyes
2. Have caterpillars tamed
3. Turn to the dark side
4. Spend some time window shopping
5. Get my lomos developed
5 Things that I would do if I were a millionaire:
1. Invest to become a billionaire
2. Set up my nearest and dearests financially, as well as give to those less fortunate/worthy causes
3. Quit my job!!
4. Travel. A lot.
5. Start my own business
5 Places I have lived:
1. The Shed at the home of my grandparents
2. The house which was going to be a shed at my parents' house
3. A portaloo
4. A toilet block
5. Lego Land
5 Jobs I have had:
1. Poseur
2. Occasional 'baby sitter' for a girl who was older than me
3. Professional procrastinator (from birth year, to present)
4. Temporary Customer Service Representative, Crap Corp [TM]
5. Customer Service Representative, Crap Corp [TM]
1. I was in Year 9
2. I went on holiday to Brisbane with family
3. I invented a new excuse to avoid doing PE every prac
4. I watched Home and Away and Neighbours (Come now. I was young and naive).
5. I spent a lot of time listening to The Colour and the Shape
5 Things on Today’s “To Do” List:
1. De-puff eyes
2. Have caterpillars tamed
3. Turn to the dark side
4. Spend some time window shopping
5. Get my lomos developed
5 Things that I would do if I were a millionaire:
1. Invest to become a billionaire
2. Set up my nearest and dearests financially, as well as give to those less fortunate/worthy causes
3. Quit my job!!
4. Travel. A lot.
5. Start my own business
5 Places I have lived:
1. The Shed at the home of my grandparents
2. The house which was going to be a shed at my parents' house
3. A portaloo
4. A toilet block
5. Lego Land
5 Jobs I have had:
1. Poseur
2. Occasional 'baby sitter' for a girl who was older than me
3. Professional procrastinator (from birth year, to present)
4. Temporary Customer Service Representative, Crap Corp [TM]
5. Customer Service Representative, Crap Corp [TM]
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Skip track 6, go straight to track 7.
What I'm trying to say is Thank You.
I didn't think that red tennis balls would ease my mind.
Let's see if the effect can get me through another day without tearing hair out.
I failed in my mission. I have not located my camera cable. The search will continue tomorrow. If still not found, I may just connect the camera to the lap top with a wire coat hanger while smearing bubble gum through my [borrowed] mullet. The photos coming are not worth the wait, however will go nicely in my new 365 book. Coming to a coffee table near you! [A coffee table near you when you're at my place, that is].
Agnes wants a hand for Christmas. A wooden hand. With functional joints. http://www.madisonartshop.com/12hanman.html
Sincerely sneezing,
Dr/Mr/Miss/Ms/Mrs Stone.
I didn't think that red tennis balls would ease my mind.
Let's see if the effect can get me through another day without tearing hair out.
I failed in my mission. I have not located my camera cable. The search will continue tomorrow. If still not found, I may just connect the camera to the lap top with a wire coat hanger while smearing bubble gum through my [borrowed] mullet. The photos coming are not worth the wait, however will go nicely in my new 365 book. Coming to a coffee table near you! [A coffee table near you when you're at my place, that is].
Agnes wants a hand for Christmas. A wooden hand. With functional joints. http://www.madisonartshop.com/12hanman.html
Sincerely sneezing,
Dr/Mr/Miss/Ms/Mrs Stone.
Today's weather forecast: Bright and sunny.
Is this thing on? She's probably not even reading this.
BUT:
Dear Friend,
Your love of taxidermy and hairy men disturbs me somewhat, however your faith in love is inspiring.
I just want you to know that I was only joking when I said that I would pay your beloved $5000 to not propose to you so that I could watch the sh*t storm. I would never do that. For two reasons. One, I'm incredibly stingy. Two, I want to see you happy.
And you would make a very cute meringue (even though you have too much style to allow that to happen).
I'm sorry.
Now I want meringue.
Do you want a stripper at your Hens Night?
I'm not offering.
Sincerely,
Agnes.
BUT:
Dear Friend,
Your love of taxidermy and hairy men disturbs me somewhat, however your faith in love is inspiring.
I just want you to know that I was only joking when I said that I would pay your beloved $5000 to not propose to you so that I could watch the sh*t storm. I would never do that. For two reasons. One, I'm incredibly stingy. Two, I want to see you happy.
And you would make a very cute meringue (even though you have too much style to allow that to happen).
I'm sorry.
Now I want meringue.
Do you want a stripper at your Hens Night?
I'm not offering.
Sincerely,
Agnes.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Well, what's the plan?
Mission/s for today [should procrastination procrastinate and let me achieve my goals]:
* Find camera cable
* Go to Doctor
* Go to bed
Tonsilitis makes for a crappy Monday. I want to be at work! [Yes, it sounds like I am being sarcastic, but I was actually looking forward to work today].
Sincerely sore,
Ag.
As in silver. Not agriculture. Ugh. You drive a tractor one time and suddenly everyone thinks you keep cows.
* Find camera cable
* Go to Doctor
* Go to bed
Tonsilitis makes for a crappy Monday. I want to be at work! [Yes, it sounds like I am being sarcastic, but I was actually looking forward to work today].
Sincerely sore,
Ag.
As in silver. Not agriculture. Ugh. You drive a tractor one time and suddenly everyone thinks you keep cows.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Pining for Paris [Set to a Joy Division soundtrack].
Music and melancholia.
Coming back to reality after living in a day dream is like being smacked in the face with a shovel. While I am so grateful I had the opportunity to travel, it has been difficult to come back to Australia and get back into routine. After planning the trip for over a year, I now feel as though there's not that much to look forward to.
The economy is in free fall, the global warming crisis continues (Why is it that some people think they have no role to play in easing this?), there's talk of weapons, NSW is heading for implosion and there is poo in the sorbet (???).
My first day back at work after a month off, I was told of a 'Business Recovery Plan' devised to address the incredible queues we face. On a standard day, to have between 10-12 people waiting on the line, going over their cutting jibes one last time before releasing them into my earphone, is quite stressful. To have NINETY NINE people waiting to do so, is just... something else altogether. The number did not decrease throughout the day. The only way I could get through was to imagine that it was all just a trick. Perhaps there would be relief after the next call. Self delusion is not always the best coping method.
A week after being back, the division of which I am a part was 'restructured'. We're now a lovely slice of pie set for purchase. I have as much faith in the promises of job protection (for 2-3 years) as I do in Telstra providing quality service. Look what happened to them after restructuring and being sold off.
While painting (and planning the decoration of) my soon-to-be-beloved sun room, I was finally starting to feel my mood lift. With every lick of paint, I felt better and better. To see the nicotine yellow replaced with brilliant white was somewhat uplifting. My mind continued to wander, I smiled, and then I heard the following:
I burst into tears.
The tone, lyrics, yearning, heart break, loneliness, helplessness, hopelessness, and the fact it was one of the last songs performed by Joy Division before their vocalist ended his life is enough to crush you, despite the beauty of the song.
As I sang along, my tears mixed with the paint. I poured out my frustration and painted it all over the walls. Catharsis. The room my mind now a blank canvas I plan to fill with colour. A place where I can finally let light in.
In honour of a long tradition, I will finish painting today while wearing red lipstick. In times of crisis (economic, political), women have worn lipstick. Surges in the sale of lipsticks are used to predict economic meltdowns, generally follow disaster and are a symbol of the search for hope (See: The Lipstick Indicator). Other women just wear red lipstick because there is something strangely empowering about it. Some even use it therapeutically. (Please ensure it has not been tested on animals).
Join me for a tea party once the painting is complete?
Sincerely singing (Foux De Fa Fa),
Agnes x
Coming back to reality after living in a day dream is like being smacked in the face with a shovel. While I am so grateful I had the opportunity to travel, it has been difficult to come back to Australia and get back into routine. After planning the trip for over a year, I now feel as though there's not that much to look forward to.
The economy is in free fall, the global warming crisis continues (Why is it that some people think they have no role to play in easing this?), there's talk of weapons, NSW is heading for implosion and there is poo in the sorbet (???).
My first day back at work after a month off, I was told of a 'Business Recovery Plan' devised to address the incredible queues we face. On a standard day, to have between 10-12 people waiting on the line, going over their cutting jibes one last time before releasing them into my earphone, is quite stressful. To have NINETY NINE people waiting to do so, is just... something else altogether. The number did not decrease throughout the day. The only way I could get through was to imagine that it was all just a trick. Perhaps there would be relief after the next call. Self delusion is not always the best coping method.
A week after being back, the division of which I am a part was 'restructured'. We're now a lovely slice of pie set for purchase. I have as much faith in the promises of job protection (for 2-3 years) as I do in Telstra providing quality service. Look what happened to them after restructuring and being sold off.
While painting (and planning the decoration of) my soon-to-be-beloved sun room, I was finally starting to feel my mood lift. With every lick of paint, I felt better and better. To see the nicotine yellow replaced with brilliant white was somewhat uplifting. My mind continued to wander, I smiled, and then I heard the following:
"When routine bites hard
and ambitions are low..."
and ambitions are low..."
I burst into tears.
The tone, lyrics, yearning, heart break, loneliness, helplessness, hopelessness, and the fact it was one of the last songs performed by Joy Division before their vocalist ended his life is enough to crush you, despite the beauty of the song.
As I sang along, my tears mixed with the paint. I poured out my frustration and painted it all over the walls. Catharsis. The room my mind now a blank canvas I plan to fill with colour. A place where I can finally let light in.
In honour of a long tradition, I will finish painting today while wearing red lipstick. In times of crisis (economic, political), women have worn lipstick. Surges in the sale of lipsticks are used to predict economic meltdowns, generally follow disaster and are a symbol of the search for hope (See: The Lipstick Indicator). Other women just wear red lipstick because there is something strangely empowering about it. Some even use it therapeutically. (Please ensure it has not been tested on animals).
Join me for a tea party once the painting is complete?
Sincerely singing (Foux De Fa Fa),
Agnes x
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Are you there Dr Karl? It's me, Agnes.
One of my two weird neighbours is sitting in her front yard, peering into mine. Appears to be in a somewhat catatonic state. May have secret stash of pyschotropic medication in her house... Perhaps worthy of a renewed attempt at friendship. Wonder if she has facebook.
The word 'psychotropic' makes me think of plastic palm trees and astro turf. Hmm... Peaceful.
Does anyone else find relaxation exercises stressful? Stream of consciousness writing before bed is said to promote restful sleep. Instead I'm craving coconut and alfalfa sprouts. Maybe Great Granny was onto something with the flagon-of-Port-under-the-bed trick. Such a lady. Used to put her teeth in when we went to visit, and she'd give us $5 to bribe us into being good. Worked a charm. She always said I should be a nurse. She kept fruit bon bons in a pretty crystal jar. Now I do too.
I'm fairly certain the neighbours think I am a devil woman. They greet Rwn, but never speak a word to me. Hmph. I even say "Hello" and smile. Maybe they can smell my fear.
Oh no. Now she's seen Rwn in his Moose pyjamas.
My favourite scene in Neighbours (I never watched it...) was when Susan smacked Dr Karl in the face with a frying pan. The look on her face...
Time for chamomile.
Sincerely seedy,
Agnes J. Stone.
The word 'psychotropic' makes me think of plastic palm trees and astro turf. Hmm... Peaceful.
Does anyone else find relaxation exercises stressful? Stream of consciousness writing before bed is said to promote restful sleep. Instead I'm craving coconut and alfalfa sprouts. Maybe Great Granny was onto something with the flagon-of-Port-under-the-bed trick. Such a lady. Used to put her teeth in when we went to visit, and she'd give us $5 to bribe us into being good. Worked a charm. She always said I should be a nurse. She kept fruit bon bons in a pretty crystal jar. Now I do too.
I'm fairly certain the neighbours think I am a devil woman. They greet Rwn, but never speak a word to me. Hmph. I even say "Hello" and smile. Maybe they can smell my fear.
Oh no. Now she's seen Rwn in his Moose pyjamas.
My favourite scene in Neighbours (I never watched it...) was when Susan smacked Dr Karl in the face with a frying pan. The look on her face...
Time for chamomile.
Sincerely seedy,
Agnes J. Stone.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Photo Project
My camera cable has gone AWOL. Will locate ASAP and using other anacronyms, will endeavour to get back on track with the 365DP.
Sincerely s words,
Agnes.
Sincerely s words,
Agnes.
In defence of Facebook.
Hold your fire. Perhaps I have a point here.
All names have been changed, including mine, excluding Myspace and Facebook. The events following may or may not have taken place and do not refer to any specific thing.
Along with Myspace, Facebook has a somewhat tarnished name among the circles I rotate in. A place for “the sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, waistoids, dweebies and dickheads”. Oh, and emo kids. It’s just a social networking site. Can it really be so bad?
From the comfort of my own squalor, I can effortlessly stalk and mock people I actually know (or have gotten to know and wisely left behind). Facebook is the High School Reunion you don’t need to leave the house for, and is perhaps funnier still after taking the time to consider how carefully cultivated these online personas are.
The people on Myspace and Facebook are not real. They are but a fragment of a person with the ability to follow basic prompts in order to present their ‘ideal self’ to the world. Maybe you’ll like me better if I tell you about how much I had to drink Friday night, that I spent most of my time horizontal and don’t remember the guy’s name? Or, that I’m getting a tattoo? The image I’ve selected means a lot to me: It’s a dolphin. I used to eat tuna as a kid. Maybe I’ll like me better if I have a book full of faces and lots of people in my space.
Online social networking has taken off like wildfire, burning down the need to make real contact. If my fake self interacts with your fake self, do we have a real friendship? The Ignorant have accused The Internet of demolishing human relationships since the first time hitting the ‘Send’ button meant something. Are they right?
Millions of years ago, the term Acquaintance was used to describe a person one knew of, though did not know well. It was also used to describe a flimsy or casual friendship. Now the word is fading away. Everyone is your friend and yet you would not invite more than eight of these people to your next dinner party.
We, the members of Facebook and Myspace, are links in the chain of a self-assembling audience for multi-billion dollar advertising agencies to whom we expose our eyes and minds each time we log in. We’re losers, tryhards, loners and attention whores. Together, we make people a lot of money.
But what of the Righteous Dudes who shun these websites? Well my friends, did you laugh out loud at people you used to know who looked bored at their own wedding? Or seductively snort spritzer out your nose upon casting an eye over the many post-high school chins of a bully? Or see perhaps the world’s best impersonation of Miss Piggy to date? All while stretching back on the lounge with a wine in hand?
No you didn’t. Instead you’re reading scheissen spouted Tub Girl style from the most
fantastical foiled fragment of them all.
The train of thought broke down in Tarro.
Unedited post. Forgive poor spelling, grammar, writing style and inability to engage an audience.
All names have been changed, including mine, excluding Myspace and Facebook. The events following may or may not have taken place and do not refer to any specific thing.
Along with Myspace, Facebook has a somewhat tarnished name among the circles I rotate in. A place for “the sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, waistoids, dweebies and dickheads”. Oh, and emo kids. It’s just a social networking site. Can it really be so bad?
From the comfort of my own squalor, I can effortlessly stalk and mock people I actually know (or have gotten to know and wisely left behind). Facebook is the High School Reunion you don’t need to leave the house for, and is perhaps funnier still after taking the time to consider how carefully cultivated these online personas are.
The people on Myspace and Facebook are not real. They are but a fragment of a person with the ability to follow basic prompts in order to present their ‘ideal self’ to the world. Maybe you’ll like me better if I tell you about how much I had to drink Friday night, that I spent most of my time horizontal and don’t remember the guy’s name? Or, that I’m getting a tattoo? The image I’ve selected means a lot to me: It’s a dolphin. I used to eat tuna as a kid. Maybe I’ll like me better if I have a book full of faces and lots of people in my space.
Online social networking has taken off like wildfire, burning down the need to make real contact. If my fake self interacts with your fake self, do we have a real friendship? The Ignorant have accused The Internet of demolishing human relationships since the first time hitting the ‘Send’ button meant something. Are they right?
Millions of years ago, the term Acquaintance was used to describe a person one knew of, though did not know well. It was also used to describe a flimsy or casual friendship. Now the word is fading away. Everyone is your friend and yet you would not invite more than eight of these people to your next dinner party.
We, the members of Facebook and Myspace, are links in the chain of a self-assembling audience for multi-billion dollar advertising agencies to whom we expose our eyes and minds each time we log in. We’re losers, tryhards, loners and attention whores. Together, we make people a lot of money.
But what of the Righteous Dudes who shun these websites? Well my friends, did you laugh out loud at people you used to know who looked bored at their own wedding? Or seductively snort spritzer out your nose upon casting an eye over the many post-high school chins of a bully? Or see perhaps the world’s best impersonation of Miss Piggy to date? All while stretching back on the lounge with a wine in hand?
No you didn’t. Instead you’re reading scheissen spouted Tub Girl style from the most
fantastical foiled fragment of them all.
The train of thought broke down in Tarro.
Unedited post. Forgive poor spelling, grammar, writing style and inability to engage an audience.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
"This is Bowie to Bowie..."
The Flight of the Conchords show has been renewed for a second season by HBO.
Delight!
Delight!
Saturday, November 1, 2008
'I want to draw a spiral on the ceiling fan' and other stupidity.
Unsolicited advice to follow...
Sincerely schei,
Agnes.
- Leaving Coke Zero out for two days after being opened, and then re-cooling is not a good idea. Avoid at all costs.
- Consuming caffeine during periods of disturbed sleeping patterns is also a really, really stupid idea.
- If you're calling to set up a utility account for a property it sort of helps to know the address. I may work on the telephone, but I'm not telepathic.
- Also, if you work in Accounts, you probably should know the mailing address for your organisation. Especially when the bills are sent to your attention and you have one with the postal address clearly printed on it in your hand.
- Calling a company using your mobile phone is your choice. If you've been on hold for 5 minutes, don't spend the next 10 complaining about how you're running out of credit. It's always such a relief when said phone cuts out and you haven't gotten to the point yet.
- Yes, you did use your air conditioner. Lying to me will not result in a reduction of your bill.
- I'm so depressed to be back. Mini MSpace Rant: I got so upset at work today that I cried. My boss asked if there was anything she could do to help. I asked her to fire me.
Sincerely schei,
Agnes.
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