Katiefoolery

Don't ask me how my writing's going unless you want me to lie and tell you how I'm at least ten chapters into the most amazing book ever and it's all going so swimmingly due to my superlative organisational skills and equally amazing self-discipline.

Don't make me lie to you like that.

In more exciting news, I present to you the calendar the ma gave me as part of my Christmas present. She seems somehow to have purchased a "caption your own lolcats" calendar. Seriously. Every picture has cats in the stupidest poses imaginable. December in particular had me crying with laughter.

In the interests of democracy and... laziness and all of that stuff, I thought I'd ask my ever-witty flist to suggest some captions for January's cat. It's probably the most boring of the bunch, but I think the angle of the paw and the fact that it's surrounded by flowers has some promise. Caption my calendarlolcat!

Please. :)

( Venture under here for the pic... )

Number of times I grinned inanely today: too many to count.  What can I say?  I was having a good day.

Number of grade five children who invaded our library: *in denial*  We’re not getting more tomorrow!  Tell me we’re not getting more tomorrow!

Actually, it’s not that bad.  They're kind of cute, really. I thought I was incredibly grown up when I was in grade five; after all, I was ten years old!  That’s double figures!  It’s a little odd to realise how small I actually was.

Number of silly things accidentally posted to LJ: only one, thank goodness.  I blame my stupid work for blocking LJ, as this forced me to use email to post work-written entries in.  Formerly, if I typed “b” into the address box while composing an email, it brought up my home email first.  Now, it brings up my posting-to-LJ email and I entirely forgot this when I quickly typed in a sentence I wanted to send home.

It wasn’t until I was waiting for my second bus that I realised what I’d done.

Number of people who stared at me while I tried not to laugh out loud at my mistake: uncertain.

Number of times I was grateful it wasn’t a line from the other fic that already involves the description “half-naked” (and is probably going to go downhill from there): Many.  Many!

Number of car number-plates sniggered at on the way home: one.  But it said ‘PWP’!  I’m allowed to snigger at that.  Maturity of mind is over-rated.

Number of Timothies accidentally snubbed: one.  I couldn’t help it.  I’d just logged into msn, was talking to two people (one of whom was my dad) and was trying to get rid of sundry evidence of earlier LJ-related stupidity.  Also, there was the small matter of the cup of tea I was trying to make.  There’s only so much multi-tasking a girl can do.

Dear Jane (aka the pushy damn furniture-obsessed character of mine who now thinks she’s my muse),

OK, you win.  I’ll write the cursed fic, even if it wasn’t the one you wanted.

On the up side, huzzah for making Flit snort tea up her nose when I gave her the one line summary of said fic.  Who knew that mere ten words could result in tea-drowned sinuses of Flitness?  Knowing that the flippyfrog now has tea-clogged sinuses makes me feel much better about the whole ‘being ordered around by an imaginary character’ situation.


Dear holidays,

Well, there you are at long last.  Thank-you for finally arriving!  For a while there, you were an hallucination, a mirage on the barren, holiday-less desert of my life.  Now, be a dear and try to last as long as you can.  There’s a twelve-week term on the horizon...


Dear TV,

Well, it was nice while it lasted.  During our many years together, you entertained me well and I have a great big basket of fond memories of that time.  I know this is going to hurt you more than it hurts me, but I think it’s time to end this.  Don’t be sad – there are so many more fish in the sea people out there who will love you and treat you well.  I’ve simply come to realise that we’ve both changed and it’s time to move on.  I need more from a relationship and you just can’t give that to me.

I’m sorry.  I hope we can still be friends after this, but please don’t ask for anything more of me.


Dear Internet,

Huzzah!  I finally dumped that poxy TV so now we can be with each other forever and take mushy long walks on the beach at sunset whilst calmly ignoring the mosquitoes and the broken shells stabbing into our feet!  We will be together forever, I know it!

*snuggles*


Dear Microsoft Word,

Hey, guess what?  When I type three asterisks in a row, I actually don’t want you to turn it into some shoddy-looking line of dodgy black rectangles.  Amazingly, I simply want to have three asterisks in a row.  I guess this is just too much for you to comprehend.

I don’t care what they told you; you can’t read my mind, so please to stop trying.


Dear Wireless Internet,

Welcome to our house! Now I’ll never get any writing done... but at least I can distract myself from this fate by being mesmerised by your prettily-blinking lights!


Dear Jane (aka the pushy damn furniture-obsessed character of mine who now thinks she’s my muse),

*shakes fist*

Firstly, may I just say:

Thank-you, LJ, for changing the default setting of the cursèd navigation bar to "on".  You know, there is a reason why I don’t have the navigation bar switched on and that reason (which I happen to think is a very good one) is that it is a hideous abomination and I hate having to look at it.  Ever. Please don’t do that again.

If my kind friends and readers out there would be so good as to add a heaping of sarcasm to those two paragraphs above, I would be most grateful.

Secondly, I want to thank a student who inadvertently gave me a rather good chuckle.  She had added a title to her list of books for the Victorian Premier’s Reading Challenge and it was ever so slightly incorrect.  Instead of Secret Friends’ Stuff, she had typed Secret Fried Stuff.  Secret Fried Stuff... I can’t love it enough.  It conjures up an image of someone being served a plate of mysterious objects covered in batter.  But is that a prawn or a piece of chewing gum?  A potato cake or a frisbee?  Who knows!  Who dares to taste the Secret Fried Stuff?

In the grand old tradition of new year, everyone seems to be re-capping the year that has passed and making wild and adventurous resolutions for the year ahead. Good for them, I say. I toyed briefly with doing this too, but then realised I couldn’t be bothered. So, if anyone out there is interested in discovering what 2004 meant for this little Buneater, then I’m afraid you’re going to have to start here and work your way along.

So, instead of going to a lot of effort and musing over the things that made 2004 such an interesting year, packed full of 366 days, along with numerous nights and unseasonal hail-storms, I decided I would take this opportunity to introduce my readers to the cast of millions that features in this little blog of mine. The idea arose from a comment by the good poisonheadache, begging to know who “the Boy” might be. So blame her. :) The nerd in me wouldn’t let this happen without some pictures to brighten everything up, so most of the cast entries are accompanied by a handy photo. As I seem to have a knack of taking photos of people when they’re looking their silliest, several of the aforementioned photos are rather amusingly silly. And now, without any further blathering, I shall begin.

Katiefoolery (who once was Buneater)
This is me, strangely enough. I go by “Katiefoolery” now, but I used to call myself the “Buneater”. People often ask me where the name “the Buneater” came from and I tell them it’s a long and not-very-intersting story. And it’s true. Suffice to say, I’m very happy with this most ridiculous of names and bear it with pride. I live in Melbourne and work in a secondary school library. The rest of the time I seem to spend either on the internet or in attempting to become the next J. K. Rowling, despite my inherent dislike of the phrase “the next J. K. Rowling”. Since it turned out I spent more time procrastinating instead of actually doing anything, I decided to finally finish my Bachelor of Arts degree. Now that I’ve finished that, I have to decide whether or not to do a Master of Information Management and Systems and become a librarian. In the meantime, I work in a secondary school library four days a week and spend Wednesday procrastinating.

A meme once called me a grammar god and we all know memes never lie. Worship me or, if not me, then at least worship the apostrophe.

My Timothy
Next comes my Timothy, who goes by the alias “bunhusband” when he’s lurking about on my journal. In case you’re wondering, yes - it’s not easy going through life with a pixelated face with a question mark sitting in front of it. In fact, it’s downright dangerous, especially when he’s driving. My Timothy, as the possessive may indicate, is my husband, soul-mate and best friend. His duties include kicking me out of bed at 7:00am to go to work, cooking, cleaning and banning me from doing the dishes. He also performs heavy lifting tasks and acts as an un-paid chef and chauffeur. When he’s not busy doing all of those things, he stands in as my inspiration for just about everything I do these days.

Pickle
Good old Pickle. She’s our little kitty - just over two years old and incredibly gorgeous. Pickle likes looking adorable, sleeping, eating and racing around the house like a thing possessed. She also enjoys licking people and biting them in a friendly, albeit sharp, manner. Another of her habits includes sitting on my keyboard and getting annoyed when I try to type. (Although I was very proud of her the day she typed the word “pop”.)

Pickle has an alter-ego known as PSYCHOPANTS!!, who is largely responsible for the racing around and generally looking deranged.

The Da
This is my father, referred to as “my father”, “my dad”, “dad” or “the da”, depending on my mood. He had the unlucky task of raising me, along with my mother. The two of them ran away to Beechworth a year or so ago, forcing us to take three and half hour trips to visit them. On the up side, it’s very nice in Beechworth. You may be able to spot the remarkable eye-brows that adorn the Da’s face. These are eye-brows with their own personality and a habit of twirking up insanely. My Timothy aspires to these eye-brows and is actually part-way to cultivating his own.

The Ma
Here be my mother, looking relatively sane. This is completely un-representative of her normal state of being. She was given the task of bringing me up and instilling reasonably good values in me. I think she sort of succeeded. These days, I tease her for giving me a gravy mug and then asking for it back, because she hadn’t meant to give it to me in the first place. I also mock her for not having a pantry. Ma taught me that it’s fun to talk to inanimate objects, a policy I embrace whole-heartedly to this day.

The Boy
“The Boy” is my younger (and only) brother - so named for that sketch in The Simpsons, wherein Bart is referred to as “Rat Boy”. In yet another indication of my laziness, I couldn’t be bothered calling my brother “Rat Boy”, so my mum and I settled for simply calling him “the Boy”, and just implying the “rat” bit. The Boy lives with my almost-sister-in-law, the Sonia, with one two three four cats and often spends Thursday nights at my place, eating pizza. Well, spent, since he now lives right next door to the parents in Beechy. I decided it was a tiny bit unreasonable to require them to make a six hundred kilometre round trip every week just to keep up a tradition based on eating greasy, dough-based meals.

The Sonia
The Sonia is my almost-sister-in-law. She has an insane sense of humour and the ridiculous, which means she fits nicely into our family. It’s thanks to her that I was introduced to the term “dew-dew”, which means absolutely nothing to anyone apart from her, the Boy and myself.

The Buffster
Ah, the good old Buffster, or Buffy, as normal people call her. Buffy, the Buffster, Wuffs, Fooffer, Tigs, Tigger, Fatso, Wuff-Wuff... this cat goes by many names and also comes when she’s whistled, mostly because she thinks she’s a dog. Buffy was our family cat for years and years and has now gone into retirement in Beechworth. She enjoys eating. A lot.

The Buffster died last year after a very long life of laziness and dirty looks.

Bindi
The latest addition to this list is Bindi, Tim’s sister, who has recently come to live with us when she split up with her boyfriend at the start of 2005. She comes with a bonus cat, Nala, who enjoys hiding under the bed and running from us if we come within one hundred metres of her. As a result of this, I enjoy spending a lot of time running after her with my hands out-stretched, saying: Garrh! Bindi has now split up with her boyfriend, making her a permanent member of this household. Shortly after moving in with us, the good Bindi put away all the dishes and found a pair of socks, making her a useful addition to the household.

Also starring:
Glenys and Anne, my work colleagues.
Sunny and Serina (aka the stupid, stinking liar), colleagues from my previous job.
Dollie, Michelle, Bev and Margaret - colleagues from the job before that. (Also featuring in episodes from these days is the helper monkey, who attempted to kidnap my mug and its plendiferous flying cow.)
Tina, the sort of next-door neighbour from whom you hide when you see her coming. (Thankfully, she doesn’t feature that often, or I’d start arming myself with a frying pan whenever I venture outside.)


So there you have it - the major players in this little LJ here. Of course, I probably spend more time talking about fictional characters than I do about real people, but as least I now have a handy list of the poor people who are forced to turn up in my LJ without being asked first.

P.S. I’d love to see pics of the people who feature in my friends’ LJ posts, so do feel free to steal this idea. :)