Ooof.

http://www.apph25.dsl.pipex.com/bygone/Craftshire-suits-America-tightly.jpg

Why is it that my yoghurt after lunch always tips me over the edge?

Post breakfast: Skirt feels good, sitting right at my belly button like it's supposed to be.

Post morning tea: Skirt feels superb, breakfast bloat is gone and I'm cruising. Maybe skirt has even become a little loose.

Post lunch: Skirt is becoming "skin tight"- kinda like a wetsuit. But I'm still moderately happy, because at least I can still sit at my desk.

Post yoghurt: Skirt is officially unhappy. I have hiked it up to just under my chestbone and I fight to urge to lie on the floor.

Rest of the day: Curse you magic yoghurt, why can't you have that effect on my relatively flat chest?

Man from Mars comes from Jervis Bay and La-dy Ga-ga

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Yesterday I got the Lady Gaga Album- the deluxe set that includes both The Fame and The Fame Monster. Is that lady a genius or what? She's so funky she should punky spunk dunk. If you know what I mean.

Mr Russia from work even came upon her on Friday afternoon. There she was decked out in a fiery red sparkly outfit, rifling through some v.v. expensive scarves at "Hermes!!", Mr Russia crowed, pronouncing the 'h' and the 's' like you're completely not meant to. But I understood his excitement. Lady Gaga in Hermes, was surely a sight to behold.

Anyway, so Gaga has been belting out tunes from my car speakers and I'm happy-- because it tops off an unexpectantly splendid weekend which began with very little promise and boredom induced cleaning. That's right. Cleaning.

So there I was, revamping my bedroom. Out goes the old make up, creams, clothes, accessories I never wear, and voila, hello space, and even more helloooo carpet. It's been so long since I saw your beige tones. As I sweated it out, disposing, wiping and dusting, my phone rang. I looked at the screen. Man from Mars. No doubt equally bored as batsh!t in Jervis Bay where he's currently been posted for work.

[To provide some background, earlier in the week, Man from Mars had advised that he'd be able to make it up to Sydney for the weekend. As it had been a fortnight since our last reunion, I was amped and excited to see him. Then on Thursday night, he let slip that he wouldn't be able to make it. Transport arrangements had fallen through. Bummer. I was monumentally disappointed and as always in times of surprise disappointment, I lashed out and chucked a sook that involved dead silence from my end of the phone conversation. Sorry- immature I know, but I couldn't help it. Why get my hopes up if you're not actually positively sure you're coming?

Meanwhile, Man from Mars didn't appreciate my sook and hung up. I subsequently texted a sheepish apology of sorts.]

"Hullo" I mooched.

"Hi I'm on the train to Sydney, see you in the city in three hours" announced Man from Mars authoritatively.

"Are you coming? How are you getting home? Should I come to the cityyy" I shouted

"Yeah you wanna come?"

and so then I bellowed that I was very excited that he was coming and he replied likewise in the more subdued way he's known for.

We trotted around the city, had dinner in Haymarket and came back home to watch The Ugly Truth. Good movie that, especially the scene where she's wearing the magic undies controlled by the remote control. (I refuse to elaborate, you have to watch it yourself).

Then Man from Mars left this arvo back for Jervis again and I drove back home, missed my turn off because of Lady Gaga and found myself on the freeway to Newcastle.

Detour! Thank you GPS, you saved me the depths of Newcastle despair.

I got home, did my pilates dvd and here is now. Rock and roll!

PS Man from Mars accidentally called "Cleo" magazine "Celo"- as in 'kilogram':

"What's the difference between Celo and Cosmopolitan magazine?" he wondered.

Ehrrm a trendy teen magazine, filled with diet tips and fronted by a hot airbrushed celeb on the cover can never be called Kilo, right? Man from Mars giggled and so did I. Sometimes boys say the funniest stuff.

Ring a ring ma phoneeee

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Today at work we somehow got onto the topic of how little/lot our voices change when we have to answer the phone. We switch on what we reckon is our "professional" voicebox, round out our vowels, lower our pitch and swallow our strines.

Hell, who are we fooling? Biggest frauds ever. The second the phones are down we cackle like uncouth gangters, say things like "wrrd" "hokay" "are you for reals?" and punctuate everything with "that's so stoooopid!"(well I do anyway).

Here's how me and my team transform when we answer the phone:

Miss Tiny: Ordinarily full of giggles and expression, her voice goes a little lower, she carefully enunciates each syllable, clearly, slowly and deliberately.

Miss DB: Normally a happy user of exclamation marks, Miss DB's accent takes on a slightly British turn as she ends each word elegantly in that careful complete way that posh Londoners do.

Mr Smart Abs: Naturally quiet and professional sounding anyway, Mr Smart Abs voice sounds even more authoritative than usual and he speaks in that "thou shalt not question me" way that Roman Emperors would have in the 5th Century of time.

Me: Guilty of making up my own words, putting the wrong emphasis on the wrong syllable, putting on silly voices, today I was told that I sort of become unrecognisable when I hit the phone. Serious as.

Everyone does it. And there's nothing wrong with it. You gotta do what you gotta do to make yourself feel the work groove, right? If there's anything office life has taught me, it's that everyone has a super goofy side that gets tucked away, and left at home because we think that it's the only way to be taken seriously. Probably true, but it's a shame. We spend 80% of our days being boring people. And sometimes you never end up ever seeing someone's super goofy side... and you could've gotten along with them like a house on a hovercraft if you'd only known.

Ni Hao!

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Today my sister was walking through Town Hall station. She was in a giant rush because we needed to be at Chatswood by 6:30 pm and we hadn't bought our tickets with only a minute to go.

So anyway, she's storming through the station and she sees a man walking towards her with his arm stuck up in a wave. But not a flapping-side-to-side-greeting type of wave, more a paused-in-mid-motion-wave. Elbow locked at 90 degrees, fingers spread out evenly-- he approaches.

She stares back. "Do I know this guy?" she ponders.

"NI HAO!" He announces, grinning stupidly.

My sister glares at him. She has nothing against Chinese people or anything, but then again not all Asians are automatically Chinese. If you know what I mean.

He marches on, basking in the victory of his linguistic skills.

Marchy moo

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Can you believe it's March already?

Meanwhile, what's the goss? Here's mine:

- Man from Mars is back in Melbourne Town working in his new job at a sparkly city firm
- I got a lovely coat from Ricochet Recycled Fashion and it is tres groovy
- My sister made chocolatey brownies that turn into liquid chocolate pies when you put them in the microwave
- I'm trying to go to bed at 10 pm every night because sleeping makes your body work better and you feel tops
- Man from Mars and I watched a cute movie called "Once". Made on a budget of $100K, it's the sweetest movie I've seen in a decade. I kid thee not.
- I split my skirt yesterday and only realised after lunch. I don't even know when I split it. Ehrrm.
- I got cool electric blue lace up boots. This super tall model type said they were hot as I paid for them, and I felt mildly proud
- I was on the train station and this little boy said to another boy: "You're a homosexual". That boy said to the other boy's big brother: "Your brother is such a pussy" and they proceeded to chase each other around in circles
- I caught up with 2 uni friends after about 2 years of not having seen them. It was like good old times. Nostalgia!!
- I'm watching Grey's and Izzy and Alex are having an intense moment. Izzy didn't give Alex the benefit of the doubt and now he can't forgive her. I'm riveted.

Alright, I'm spent.

Bisous xx