Bulletin of the week

The bulletin board at work continues to provide me with entertainment.

Each day I find the most amusing new listing and email it through to Nathan and Jerry. Now, I am going to do a Bulletin of the Week listing on my blog.

I find it highly amusing, I hope you do too...


LOTS OF SINGLE BEDDING

Details:

Having got rid of all single beds in the house I have no use for the following:
- x 1 single doona inner, it has a few marks on it so it's Free.
- x 1 cotton single mattress protector $2
- x 1 woollen single mattress protector $4
- x 1 fitted Winne the Pooh sheet $1 (maybe could be made into a set of cot sheets if you're handy on the sewing machine)

Single Sheet sets (one fitted & one flat):
- set of flannette single sheets red, blue & white (soccer design) $2
- set of flannette single sheets purple with pink, purple and blue hearts $2
- set of blue cotton single sheets $2- set of lilac cotton single sheets $2

Doona Single Covers:
- Winnie the Pooh (mainly blue) $4
- Black, red & white $4
- Pink cover with frill edge (with purple fairies) $4
- White embossed pattern with matching valance $7

All in excellent condition. Contact Lisa


Honestly Lisa, you need to put a value on your time.

Consider how long it has taken you to do a full inventory of all of your single bedding (all the single beds, all the single beds...), write this advertisement, place it on the bulletin board, answer enquiries (I'm being optimistic and assuming that you will get any), pack the linen up, bring it in to work, and complete the transaction.

Or you could just put your dirty effing single bed sheets in the charity bin and save us all the hassle.

Grown up

I have recently been making conscious and subconscious efforts to be more grown up.

It started one day in a meeting in my new job, where I looked around at the majority female attendees and realised they all rather grown up hairstyles. Compared to moi, who had my hair scrapped back in a bun. That was when I made the decision to finally get a grown up hair style. I now have a funky sort of bob thing, which required daily blow drying and straightening. Because that’s what grown ups do.

Then there was the purchase of a brand name television. While I was initially happy to go for an el cheapo Celestial brand television, dad and PJ both told me to buy a Panasonic “because everyone knows that they are the best”. So I forked out the cash for a reputable brand massive plasma screen television. Because that’s what grown ups do.

Then I decided that I wanted new sheets for my bed, something in a silver/grey colour. I bought some from Kmart and then returned them as I wanted to get a better quality. Instead, today I went to Myer in my lunch break and purchased some super-threadcount Sheridan sheets. Because that’s what grown ups do.

Other things that I need to cross off the list in my transformation into a grown up:

• The purchase of and wearing of high heels for work every day
• The stocking up of my wine rack (with something a bit fancier than five bottles of soda water)
• Learn how to smile nicely in photos without pulling a silly face

I welcome any suggestions as to what else I need to implement in my life in order to achieve grown up status.

Housemate hunt hell

Ok, so let me tell you about the absolute ball ache that has been my search for a house mate.

After moving back into my two bedroom apartment I paid the exorbitant amount of $49.95 to list the second room for rent on www.realestate.com.au. The response has been less than impressive.

There was the English junior doctor who, despite me explaining to get in the lift and come up to level 5, took the stairs and then got locked in the stairwell and had to call me to rescue him. I can't live with a person that needs saving.

Then there was the Indian office worker who couldn't find my massive four-building apartment complex just off a major road and next to a major infrastructure landmark, so I had to give him explicit treasure map-like instructions (stand with your back to this building, now walk 200 meters straight ahead, now turn to your right...). I can't live with an idiot.

Then there was the Malaysian woman in hotpants and high heels, who assumed that it would be okay if her young son stayed over a couple of nights a week. I can't live with children.

Then there was the cute Italian man who only wanted to stay for three months. I can't go through this process again so soon.

Then there was the pocket-rocket Army Reserve girl, who I really liked and asked to move in but she had found somewhere cheaper.

Then there was the construction worker, who was so ocker I immediately knew without meeting him that he had a Southern Cross tattoo somewhere on his body. I can't live with stereotypical patriotic permanent body markings.

Then there was the crazed stalker. I want to give you his name, so that you can steer clear of this loony, but then there might be legal implications. So I will hint at it. His name was Jonathan Generic-name-for-a-feathered-flying-animal. And he always referred to himself by his full name. He came to have a look at the place on Wednesday and said he was interested, but I told him I still had another couple of people coming to look at the place so would let him know on the weekend. He then called me Friday at work, when I couldn't answer the phone. He then called me twice on Saturday when I was driving down the coast, when I couldn't answer the phone. He then called me as soon as I arrived down the coast, when I could answer the phone but was hesitant to because of his persistence. So I sent him a message saying that I was sorry I couldn't take his calls but I was at a wedding (little white lie, I know), and that a friend of mine was going to move in to the room, and wished him luck finding somewhere else. He wrote back "aha ok well your time might not be valuable but that doesn't mean you can waste others". Jonathan, thank you for revealing your true nature and confirming that I had indeed made the right decision in not letting you move in you effing stalker freak.

So the hunt for a housemate is suspended for the time being. I'm looking forward to having a couple of weeks off from the freak parade before I can muster the courage to do it all over again.

Tell him he's dreamin

There is an online bulletin board at work, where staff can sell things. And by "things" I mean mainly over-priced second-hand crap.

How about some boxing gloves, that are slightly splitting at seams (I appreciate his honesty) for $25?

Or an ironing board, in good condition, for $30? Seroiusly, how much is a new one? And what sort of cost do you put on the inconvenience and embarrassment of doing the transaction in the workplace?

Or the guy selling comedy club tickets that he admits were a gift, but is still trying to sell them at full cost price!

Or the woman selling 11 nappies for $5? Honestly, why bother?

Or the douchebag selling personalised plates (you know how I feel about them) for a Nissan 350Z - NSN 350? Do you think he would sell them to me knowing I was going to put them on my Mitsubishi Mirage?

Or the person trying to offload a used Nokia mobile phone for $400? Only if you leave all of the text messages where you fight with your boyfriend on it.

Do you need an electric fence energiser? 260 back copies of Ships Monthly magazine from 1987-2009? Some slightly scratched kids sunglasses? Fake Chloe Paddington handbag? Authentic signed Brisbane Broncos 1997 Super League jersey? Clarinet?

There is also a lot of second-hand, hardly used, perfect condition exercise equipment. He he he, fatties!

I think my favourite was the man selling a Club Lock steering wheel lock: "I have had this many years, hardly ever used in the last 15-20 so it's like new (been sitting in cupboard). You can own for $30."

Tight arse hoarder...

Hello, welcome back, hi

So, quick update on things – I’ve got a job with another Government Agency (henceforth referred to as Brisbane Government Agency), I have moved back into my apartment in Brisbane , and I’ve lost 8kg since leaving London .

Okay, now we’re all on the same page.

So over to some random thoughts...

There is a girl at work that is absolutely lovely, but wears her sunglasses as a headband all day long. Is that appropriate for the office?

For the last time people, tights are not pants

I catch the bus to work. I used to eschew public transport in Brisbane, laughing at people on buses, and frequently abusing those blerrie bus drivers that just pull out in front of you. Now I am the unofficial spokesperson for “Buses are cool”. Email me if you want a slogan badge.

I met a guy the other day who pronounced the word tooth as “toof”. I thought it was only the British who spoke like that.

Is it okay to wear leopard print flats to the office? On the fourth day of working there?

I keep forgetting to stand to the left on escalators, to the point where I am annoying myself

Forget Chicago, Brisbane is the windy city - a fact that the man walking behind me today when my skirt whipped up will attest to

My name is Mumble Pants and I have an addiction to soda water

More regular posts will follow, I promise. Including a new weekly special - wanky personalised plates!

I lied

Okay, so I am a crap blogger.

But I don't have much to say. Or, actually, I don't have much interesting to say. Funemployment is keeping me busy as I fill my days with the beach, boring administration stuffs like claiming insurance and doing my tax, having lunches and dinners with friends, being cheerleader for Nathan's netball team on a Wednesday night, inviting myself over to play with my nephews, talking to my sister on the phone (the novelty of being able to call whenever we want hasn't worn off yet), and job hunting.

Do you know what I need to do? Get a job or get drunk. Leave it with me, I'll work on it.

In the meantime, let's pretend this is a weight loss blog for one minute so I can gloat about how I have lost 5kg since I got back - toot toot! A big part of it is mum waking my up early each morning for what I have dubbed "Fat Farm" (aka beach walks and swims), part of it is the heat allowing me to sweat it out, and the biggest part of it is the reduction of alcohol consumed.

So I guess that answers my earlier rhetorical question about what I need to do - get a job so that I can cryptically talk about my colleagues behind their backs in this open forum!

G'day!

Rest assured that I wasn't abducted by the fat man in red, but have been busy Christmasing and New Yearsing and familying and so haven't had time to blog.

But I shall get back on soon and tell you all about:

• How my mother has reset my body clock to wake up at 6:30am every day for Fat Farm
• The fact that I have a tan!
• The way my two year old niece, Darcy, struts around like she owns the joint
• How I was "that" drunken Aunty on Christmas day
• My 4 year old nephew, Joe, who kicks my arse at Mario Kart
• My desire to become a member of every surf club, bowls club and RSL on the Gold Coast
• Oh, and that two week Wild European Vacation I've already forgotten about

Kaybye!