So all of you should have in your email or LJ inbox a note from me naming your palooza pal and giving accompanying details. Hooray! I did a little fudging of the initial pick-out-of-a-hat to make sure all you Sydney folk didn't just get each other and ignore all of us in the outlying state known as Victoria (and those other Australian states Singapore and London.)

If you didn't get your generic email, or you have any other questions, just holler!

And while we're on the topic of making ourselves broke, who here wants a copy of my 2009 mixtape? It's still under construction, so international peeps may not get it until after xmas.

Today was a bit dismal on the writing front. In an attempt to do anything literary at all, I issued myself with a plan to do what Booker winner John Banville does - he writes one hundred perfectly formed words a day. He's pretty prolific for that fact, so I gave it a go. I got to 165 words before I realised I'd babbled too much, reread what I'd done, and found myself getting a bit sweaty with horror, then deleted it, tried again, hated it, then gave up and resorted to cleaning. GUYS. I HATE cleaning. I cleaned the kitchen and the laundry and the bedroom, even changing the bedsheets which is usually Chris territory (frankly I would never change sheets if no one prompted me, I'm too busy sleeping or doing other distracting things in that room to care about the condition of my bed.) So the place looks great, and it meant when Chris came home I could say, "I didn't write anything, but look at the laundry! LOOK! Why aren't you LOOKING harder? Where are the ADMIRING noises?"

The day improved greatly once Chris came home. We made chili non carne, then had ice cream and watched Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. Then, off to the supermarket to pick up some groceries. And can I say just how awesome it is when you buy a bread stick? Having a bread stick - celery is also the same - in your shopping bag makes you feel like a proper grown up, because people can see what you are buying and that it is not all chips and chocolate (I'm making cookies too, for a birthday party tomorrow night.)

Now Chris is doing work and I am online. Theo is squished between us but earlier had a hilarious reaction to this song:



I'm not sure if this is the same as the version we have (from the Stax 50th Anniversary Celebration album) but when he whistles, Theo starts looking around, and when Rufus starts singing come on Theo is desperate to go to the voice. Silly kitten, you can't go into a CD player, you don't even know where the eject button is.

RIGHT. So here we have it: the list of folks participating in Jesuspalooza '09:

atticussampson
bitspike
bizwac
dawning_horizon
ilikerivers
infloresence
inthezoo
invader_kitty
liadlaith
neonfaerie
new_perestroika
professor_cake
socraticomatic
tin_foil_hat
vegetus
zebrallama

(opheliaheart, did you truly, honestly, not want in?)

"So now what?" you ask, tapping your foot impatiently. Well, first, stop DOING that, it's annoying, and second, if you're in this list, post a comment below with ten words that a gift-giver may find useful. Third, shoot me a PM telling me your postal address, and email address too. Then, names will be drawn out of a hat*, and I'll let you know ASAP who you're sending to, as the lovely vegetus pointed out that the international deliveries need to head out before December 4.

The price limit is ten bucks, and you can substitute homemade crafty things or pictures or whatever you like. If you find yourself in any way worried about being able to send your gift, don't be afraid to let me know so I can send something on your behalf or help in any way. Remember that ANYTHING is exciting when it's mailed. Perhaps not body parts, though.

Get cracking, people! And if you didn't get in fast enough on my last post, it's not too late to ask to be included now.


*may not be an actual hat

Christ, I hate the second half of the year. From Christmas onwards, I'm full of ideas, writing with every spare second, until mid-year, when I finish something. Then, the second half of the year is spent dithering about on the computer, unable to finish sentences, racking up countless new Word files for my computer filled with stories that rarely get past ten pages before I cannot stand them any longer. Some days I have nothing but complaints, and fill any quota I've issued myself by typing stream-of-consciousness bollocks about how bereft of ideas I am. This is the time of year when I'm plagued with doubt about this idea I have of myself as Successful Writer, and spend it eating too much and sulking.

In an effort to get my mind to do anything, I went and reread some of the stuff I've written in past years that I haven't finished. A lot of it is absolutely terrible, awful writing, guaranteed only to make people wet their pants with embarrassed laughter, but some of it is actually okay, good ideas, or a nicely executed bit of dialogue. The worst thing is finding this one story I'd started which involved a girl and a private investigator (sounds lame, for sure, yet already has more plot in that sentence than most of my entire novels) and was actually pretty fucking cool, then finished halfway through a sentence and internets, do you THINK I have any idea where I was going with it? I do not. I recall being proud of myself for thinking of this idea but I do not know what the idea was. Perhaps one day I will find another, hidden file, called "Superbly Detailed Plots" and will remember where I was going with all of these pieces of babble, instead of leaving them hanging and giving them helpful file names for me to find later (actual Word file names in Documents include "fuuuuuck", "argh", "blah" and "stoopid".)

I think I might boot up the graphic tablet and do some drawing, just so I can feel like I have achieved something creative today apart from getting dressed, writing this blog entry, and making a tasteless salad.

So, this evening, with socraticomatic, liadlaith (see drunk post elsewhere; others of us were on the non-alcoholic wine) and bitspike, we were considering launching some kind of Kris Kringle or however the hell you spell it. You know, you post here telling me you want into the present party, and I'll pick names out of a hat and then one of us can send a present to another and everyone will get one gift mailed to them and it will be awesome. What do you think? Do we want to keep who gave the gift a secret (Chris will take out the name of who gives me a gift and I'll tell him how to message whoever so I can't find out)? What say you, internets?

I know not all my friends are friends with each other...yet *darty eyes*...but don't be afraid to count yourself in. I won't let anyone be deprived of gifts! And a random present from a stranger could be super fun. Dude, it's an event about a zombie, essentially; we don't have to take it too seriously!

Actually, I'll make it in poll form because I haven't done one of these in 11,000 years:

Not that I am finding other things to do than write or anything (stupid lack of inspiration and too many Jatz in belly), but I just Googled myself and found that I am indeed on the first page with the gardening article I wrote. Wheee! Also on the first page was a prosecutor (not me) and facebook/myspace/blogspot links to all people with my name (though I'd probably be in all of those, too, greedy internet networker I am.)

Googling socraticomatic came up with a death notice. Is there something I should know? Because I was going to come over to your place for pizza tonight if you aren't dead. Also, I need to have words with Chris, who is apparently an English golfer and five years older than he told me. If you guys could get weirder names that would totally work for me, okay? This applies to you, too, self.

Okay okay I am getting back to writing, see? *bangs keyboard with hands*

Coles has this deal right now where if you spend a hundred bucks on groceries you can get the new Harry Potter movie for five dollars. FIVE DOLLARS. You can bet your ass I was right there with my hundred (and fifteen) dollars buying such trivial things as toilet paper and celery so I could get my fill of Ron for five smackers. Two disc edition 'n all! It is on our shelf right now clashing with all the other movies in the series which don't have matching packaging, not that I am so shallow who said I was.

Also regarding SALE SALE SALE things, if you shop at Readings Carlton this Wednesday evening from 6-8pm, all books are 20% off and DVDs/CDs 10% off. Go buy things! I am terrified, baptism of fire that it will be.

Unrelated to shopping momentarily, Cassie and Andrew are down at the moment and it's all happy funtimes! Crap, must make a salad for tomorrow. How long do you need to stick a pasta salad in the fridge for before it is the appropriate temperature?

( See? )

The past few days have been quite lovely. Friday night we saw our most recent (and second-last! *sob*) Melbourne Theatre Company play, When The Rain Stops Falling, which was beautiful and had me bawling just when the lights were at their brightest and all of the audience was peering around at each other. (It is also reviewed here, not that I am shamelessly plugging myself of course.) Afterwards, as we were not far from the lovely Lian, I called her up and we went out for a drink by the Yarra on what was surely the nicest night so far this year. The Yarra is so disgustingly lovely at night, which is at least a relief from its general actual disgustingness during the daytime. Saturday was a good day at work, with all the customers and staff chipper and everything, and was followed by chips and potato cakes in front of the tv as we watched Death Race (possibly the trashiest movie in the history of cinema, not that I should have been surprised) and I Am Legend (I cried in the dog bit, but thought it was an average movie anyway with too much unnecessary CGI.)

Sunday was happy family time to celebrate my sister's 38th birthday in a park. Every single thing but the birthday cake and a packet of Toobs was vegan, bless my little family, and my sister had thought the Toobs were vegan anyway (deceptive packaging!) So we scoffed crackers and biscuits and chips and fruit and vegetables and dips and watched the kids go on swings and be adorable, with my nephew Andrew stoked at all the pottery he'd dug up on a trip to Rushworth and showing it off to everyone. For a bit of a tangent: we were talking about pregnancy stretch marks at one point - my mother says she has them but you can't tell them from the wrinkles any more, my middle sister has not one and the flattest belly in history, and my oldest sister says she was "Freddy Kreugered" by hers and they've only just gone white (seven years later) but her skin was so fragile during her last pregnancy that when she went to the chiropractor and had her back taped during it that she woke up during the middle of the night screaming in pain. There were new stretch marks torn into her skin in the shape of the tape on her back. It had just pulled apart. ARGH NO BABIES FOR ME EVER (we all know this is a lie, but that's a good story to put me off for a while.) After the party, we went to my pal Rachael's place and well well, speaking of babies, she is now twelve weeks pregnant! I am so unbelievably pleased, especially as she has gone through so much with her useless ex-husband (who has finally got the point and signed the divorce papers) and had such a hard time that to see her glowing and happy with her supportive new partner was just freaking awesome. Though as we arrived at her place, current son Noah had, in the spirit of independence, tried to change his own nappy and managed to get poop all over his bedroom. Kids is gross, for sure. But cute too.

Yesterday I worked and my entire accomplishment otherwise was that I made my dinner in advance to take with me, though I am unsure if I saved any money after buying all the ingredients to make the salad anyway. Today I have already done a little bit of writing and after some cleaning will attempt more, but my big success was buying tickets to see the Yeah Yeah Yeahs - hurrah! Along with them on the 29th and Animal Collective on the 14th, December is shaping up to be a musically awesome month.

Only a few days until we can wave our hankerchiefs at the arriving liadlaith and bitspike. Hooray! Oh, and socraticomatic, look here: you're famous!

This year Chris and a couple of his pals at school are participating in Movember, much to Chris's horror. He hasn't attempted facial landscaping for years and is dreading it now, but apparently is going to jump in the deep end and have muttonchops to go with his moustache.

The aim of Movember is to raise money for men's health, centring around depression and prostate cancer. Depression is something that needs as much support as we can give, and any dollar helps. My dad had prostate cancer when I was very small, and I didn't find out until I was much, much older how serious it was - he was given a 30% chance of survival - or what had even happened. But he has completely recovered and every advance can help. If you have anything you'd like to donate, the link to Chris's, er, MoSpace is here. If anything, do it for the lulz of Chris being anything but clean-shaven.

In the meantime, here is a stupid I have done. One of my friends shaved his epic full beard off recently, and I said to him, "You've got it all wrong! It's like you've completely reversed the point of Movember. Unless you do a new version, where you shave off your beard! And they could call it, uh, November!" new_perestroika: the new face of marketing.

Does it ever stop being embarrassing to buy condoms? I always expect the people behind the counter to drop a sleazy wink or ask for a price check over the loudspeaker a la Woody Allen's movie Bananas (and the first time I bought them when I was a teenager, argh.) I guess you truly know you're a grown-up when you don't get all red in the face for buying something that five million other people in Australia bought the same day. Oh well.
 

Last night we hired The Descent, turned all the lights off and watched this claustrophobic, terrifying horror movie about monsters in underground caves while a thunderstorm raged outside. People, it was the scariest freaking night ever, and that was before I even remembered it was Halloween.

Consequently I got no sleep. I rarely get nightmares from scary movies but last night, despite realising the silliness of being afraid of critters living in underground caverns in the middle of nowhere in an entirely different country in the opposite hemisphere, I'd be dreaming about happy, normal things, then someone in my dream would turn a corner and BAM, monsters everywhere and me jerking awake and seething over the stupid scares that kept me awake all night.

Also, I'm not enormously well at the moment. It started Thursday night, made Friday miserable, and while I felt a bit better on Saturday morning and went to work I left after three hours because I couldn't stand up properly any more. Chris took me to the after-hours clinic and after some entirely unpleasant tests with at least a very nice doctor (including a tense few minutes while we waited to see if the issue was me being pregnant) I was given a diagnosis, a prescription and permission to drug myself up with painkillers until the problem goes away. I still don't feel great, but the edge has gone and I am functioning a bit better, at least than I was yesterday.

I have this problem when I am unwell where I make jokes about it the whole time and force out the happiest chipperness imaginable. At work I was just as peppy with the customers as usual and wonder if people believe me when, seconds after laughing and cajoling with them, I'm telling them I really quite urgently need to seek some medical attention. Perhaps I should have asked for a doctor's certificate.

Anyway, this left me unable to go to pretty much the only thing that's been on my calendar for an entire year: World Vegan Day. It seemed like a beautiful day for it, too, and we'd made no plans so we could go. But I just really wasn't up for being that far away from home. Therefore, I need to hear all of your stories about it. Also, pics or it didn't happen.

In related news, a year since the last World Vegan Day means another thing: it's been a year since I first met socraticomatic in person! And meeting her led me to meeting others, and then more others, and eventually heaps of you, dear friendslist. So, dear pal, Happy Anniversary! Strawberry internet flowers for you.

Soooooo, Aduki is up for sale.

I have enquired about the price. If we cashed in every single bit of excess money we have in share and savings, we could actually afford it. But then, no house or holiday or anything fun ever again and three cents in our bank account. But we'd have a publishing company. And I could totally hire all of you guys for things. And then blame you when it goes horribly wrong.

But seriously...should I even think about it?