This shit only happens to me - WTF Wednesday #2

Yesterday was full of YAY and FFS moments in a nauseating, emotionally blendering roller coaster. Yes I know blendering is an abuse of the verbing trend. Yes I know verbing isn't a word. Shut up.

It's been that kind of month. It's left me repeatedly thinking "why the hell do these things only happen to me?!"

It was the fuck-up that alerted her

I anonymously messaged an old mate. I accidentally included an @ and then sent "oops". She didn't know who it was sending her random crap until she read oops. The fuck up immediately made her think of me. So my fuck-ups should be listed in my police file under "Identifying Features". If I had a police file. Which I don't. I don't think. Do I? Shit. WTF?

The one where a bird landed on my head in public

I'm walking along a major city street when I suddenly feel two tiny claws on the top of my head. Not scratching. Just... standing... I had time to say "what the f-" and the claws disappeared.

I notice one of these guys fluttering, confused, near me against a window.

Image

Yes, a bird did just land on my head. Not swooping or attacking just... resting? WTF?

The free reptile I got from attending Problogger Training Event 2012

What? You didn't get yours?

I found one of these guys in my Problogger bag.

Image from here

I thought it was a toy until I touched it. He'd lost his tail in fright after the cat chased him and hidden in the bag that had been sitting on the floor. My cat has no tail either but I suspect that is another story...

I popped him back into the garden. Shark penises and free skinks - Problogger had it all. WTF?

What weird shit happens to you??

Here are the rules for What the Fuck Wednesday:

1. THERE ARE NO RULES* 
2. On Wednesdays**, blog about what's made you go What the Everloving FUCK???? discombobulated you that week.
3. Steal the What the Fuck Wednesday button from my sidebar, and stick it on your sidebar or in your post.
4. Use the link below to link up to your What the Fuck Wednesday post (not just a link to your homepage).
5. Pop over to everyone else who’s linked up, read, and go WTF! with them in their comments.

* Actually there are 5 rules. Maybe 4. WTF?

** For Wednesdays, read “whatever day of the week it lands on the blog”. See Rule 1 above.

 

A story about intent - and how I got run over

I got run over today.* It's been an odd day so far. Full of good intentions (and poor outcomes).

There I was, minding my own in business, in the basement car park of Spotlight in Box Hill.

Now, some of you may be saying that this serves me right, shopping in a place like Spotlight. In the end that was a lie. I didn't shop at Spotlight at all. That was my intention, but it was not to be.

So there I was in the basement car park, trying to work out whether I had enough change to pay the $1.00 cost.

I had 95 cents.

Of course.

Standing there counting my five cent pieces, I felt a sudden, solid nudge to my posterior.
I looked around and was fucking amazed quite surprised to see that a HUGE MOFO 4WD small black hatchback had reversed out of a parking spot behind me and ran me clean over and broken every bone in my body bumped into my arse.

I wandered over and the driver wound down their window. I politely asked them to be more careful next time. They hadn't noticed that they'd run me over and killed me bumped into me.** They had intended to drive carefully -and failed.

As they drove away thoroughly chastised unconcerned, another exiting driver drove past me (damn I forgot to thank her for not running me over) and handed me her parking ticket. I had intended to pay with my credit card but now I didn't have to.

A win!

I put my precious 95 cents away and headed up to Spotlight. Where I didn't shop, despite intending to, because they didn't have what I wanted. Note to Spotlight Box Hill: your staff suck.

As part of my homework from the Problogger Training Event 2012, I've created a manifesto, a froggy bloggy statement of intent, for what to expect from my blog:

What to expect from the frog

This is what I intend to do with my blog. You can call me on it if I don't live up to my intentions.

I guess the moral of the story is that intentions are all well and good, but they won't stop you from viciously running someone over running your car into an unsuspecting pedestrian's arse. Nor will they get you the Stretch Magic you want unless you buy it on the internet and avoid Spotlight completely. Apparently.

*OK so maybe not run over. Bumped into by a car. Travelling at slow speed. My arse hurts, OK? So I was SO run over. Shit you people are a tough crowd to impress.
** I would like this moment record for posterior posterity. My arse is so small people run their cars into it and don't notice. Thankyouverymuch.

When have you seen good intentions go horribly wrong?

The saga of the bog blog continues... (this time with spare toilets)

Dear owner of the-pub-I-went-to-a-few-weeks-ago-that-will-remain-nameless-because-this-is-not-a-sponsored-post,

After visiting your esteemed establishment recently for some* drinks and an open-mic folk afternoon**, I feel compelled to bring a couple of items to your attention:

• You might want to improve the cleanliness of your bathrooms. Just sayin'.
• You must have some rough clientele*** because, where most places keep spare rolls of toilet paper in their bog, you keep, well, spare bogs.

ERMAHGERD!
A floating green arrow in the toilet!

 


What the scary floating green arrow
was trying to bring to my attention.
Proof that the items stacked up there were,
in fact, toilets.

• Do they get broken often, that you need to keep some spare ones on hand?
• Rather than storing spare bogs in your bog, maybe you could consider some toilet paper? Or even perhaps more than one toilet for the whole pub? Just a suggestion. Oh wait! Someone told you to get more toilets. So you did. And stacked them neatly in... the toilet.

Yours sincerely,
The noisy non-folk fan in the corner.

PS. I don't normally take my phone into the toilet with me. I saw these and snuck back in to take the shots****.

* Many.
**I just don't know myself anymore. It was fun. (I was drunk).
*** Do open-mic folk afternoons really get that rowdy? OK so yes I was the most rowdy there. But I didn't damage the damn toilet, did I? What kind of person do you think I am? (Don't answer that).
****After waiting for 3 hours because there was one toilet for the whole place. No shit.*****
***** Pun intended.

Not the nasal wax video blog

This was going to be my first sponsored post.

Before you go all "ERMAHGERD, SHE'S A TERTAL SELLERT" on my arse, here is my promise to you:

I'll only post about products if I think you're likely to be interested in them, and I can tell their story with swearing in my own froggy way. If a post is sponsored, I'll tell you up front, like this:

 

WARNING! WARNING WILL ROBINSON!

(insert flailing robot arms here)

THIS IS A SPONSORED POST!*

* This is not a sponsored post.

I hope you enjoy watching me humiliate myself in this first BRAND NAME FREE UNSPONSORED FrogVlog.

 

Do you suffer from nasal tufftage?

How do you deal with it?

Pssssst... for those brave souls who want to see the outtakes... severe language warning...

Badly behaved cutlery, shark penises and broken moustaches

I started to write my post-ProBlogger Training Event post, because that’s what you do after a blogging conference.

You write a brilliant piece outlining everything you did, the blogerati you met, and the amazing epiphanies you experienced.

Here’s my last one. A literary masterpiece (if you’re into questionable cutlery behaviour and broken limbs).

Here I am sitting in Hobart airport typing away. On my blog post. Except, the blog post didn’t happen. This did:

Yes this is what happened to me at Problogger 2012

I realised that I have a book that needs to be written. Looks like it’ll get written whether I like it or not.

Problogger was terrific and I recommend you go next year. Plenty of other people will blog about the amazing stuff they learned.

Here are, instead, my Top Ten Seven Moments from ProBlogger 2012:

Poorly Behaved Cutlery Strikes Again

Yes, another blogging conference where cutlery became the inadvertent star. This time, the spoon invested in a social media strategy. SMART SPOON.

 

 

The Devious Etihad Spoon demonstrating Blogger Pay Scales

The Mo goes Mad

I got to wear my (generic no-name nasal wax *cough*) moustache stencil to the cocktail party.

 

Then it broke. I proved that if nothing else, I can improvise.

 

Thanks to Jackie Purnell and Sarah from What Sarah Did Next for playing with me in the photo booth. Photos courtesy of Smile Booth Australia.

I sweated champagne

The morning after the night before. Sorry to anyone sitting near me. Despite showering and changing I’m pretty sure you’d have been able to get drunk just from licking me. So I’m glad you all restrained yourselves. It was best for everyone really.

Shark penises

That is all.

If you weren’t in Room 1 for this session, you missed out. They gave free marine mammal penises to each attendee. Did nobody tell you? Oh, it was a secret?

Oops. Sorry.

The one where I didn’t break my ankle (but I did try)

On the morning of the second day I tripped UP the tram steps, then spent ten minutes panicking because I couldn’t find my stick on moustache in my Tardis handbag.

Yep. I was ready for Day 2.

I met the woman who changed my life. In the toilet.

Let me clarify. I met Valerie Khoo in the bathroom.

Not the toilet itself.

And she changed my life because of what she said on a panel.*

Not what she did for me in the toilet.

Which was nothing, other than say hello to me.

I hope we’ve cleared up that horribly embarrassing misunderstanding.

I met some amazing bloggers and writers

I met so many people, some for the first time, some again after meeting them at the last conference. You were all wonderful, hilarious and beautiful. It made me happy to see so many of you embracing both your luminosity and your crazy at the same time.

Sarah from What Sarah Did Next gets a special mention because she put up with my whinging, chattering, general constant presence and a vague champagney smell for the whole conference. Plus she let me get changed in her hotel room.

Pity she didn’t want to go the traditional blog conference pash.



I have no idea why she's laughing.
Photo again thanks to Smile Booth Australia.


 

*More on that in another post.

Did you go to Problogger 2012?

If so, did you meet all the people you wanted to meet?

 

 

A chat with a blogging conference virgin (AKA my niche is swearing, what’s yours?)

Frog:   “Hey there. Sweary grumpy frog here. How the fuck are ya?”

BCV*:  “Mmm phmmmhhh.”

Frog:   “What was that?”

BCV:   “I’m shitting myself because Problogger is only 4 days away.”

Frog:   “You’re right! Excuse me while I do a little froggy happy dance.”

Pause while frog dances.

BCV:   “That’s a nice dance. You’re being a bit insensitive though.”

Frog:   “Oh. So is this your first blogging conference?”

BCV:   “Yes. I’m not sure what to expect, or even if I should be there”

Frog:   “Relax. You’ll be fine. Bloggers – including the Blogerati – are normal, nice people.”

BCV raises an eyebrow.

Frog:   “OK normal might be overstating it. Bloggers are all rational sane oh who am I kidding friendly welcoming oh fuckety. Bloggers are PEOPLE. And frogs. And as people (and frogs), bloggers cover a broad spectrum of… well… everything.

           Lots of bloggers will be just like you. Wondering how many changes of underwear they’re going to need while gathering up the courage to go say a squealy querulous hello to Mrs Woog, Eden or Kerri Sackville.

           My advice – and this covers life in general, not just blogging conferences - just jump the hell in.”

BCV:    “But so many things could go wrong!”

Frog:   “This was me before my first blogging conference:"



© Jeffrey Collingwood | Dreamstime.com

 



           "And I did OK. Even though I’m the frog that broke her ankle the morning after, outside the hotel, in a city far from home. I was half of the scary pair that brought you spoon porn. You’re welcome.

           My blog is about bodily functions (repeatedly), fame, stupidity, sarcasm, dungeons, spelling mistakes, homicidal marine creatures, nasal beauty, world peace and painful breakups.

           So basically, totally silly bullshit nothing and everything. Looking for common themes, I think my niche might be swearing.”

Frog makes a note of her niche.

BCV:    “But I’m not a pro. I’m not sure I’ll fit in.”

Frog:   “I’ve not made a single dollar from my blog. I have less than 400 Twitter followers. Less than 300 unique visitors to my blog each month. And I’m going to Problogger 2012 with my froggy head held high, because I know I belong there. Because I’m a blogger.

           Although, I am feeling a bit low now that I’ve looked at my stats.”

BCV and Frog share a moment to mourn the state of their stats.

 

Frog:    "Feel better now?"

BCV:    “Yes thanks.”

Frog:    “Everything will be fine because nobody expects anything of you (except  you). That’s called freedom.”

BCV:   “You know, you’re right!”

Frog:   “Fake it till you make it, baby. See you at #pbevent. I’ll be the one trying not to break any bones.”

 

Do you expect too much of yourself?**

 

*BCV = Blogging Conference Virgin

**Yes? Stop it right now or there will be consequences.

PS If you can’t attend the Problogger Training Event 2012, you can get access to recordings of all the sessions by clicking here to purchase a virtual ticket…

 

The truth about Sundogs

If you want to find out the truth, go here...

http://presentimperfection.wordpress.com/2012/10/02/the-truth-about-sundogs/

Meanwhile, I'm back to this:

© Mathew Hayward | Dreamstime.com

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© Mathew Hayward | Dreamstime.com

Giving sorrow words (Shakespeare told me I could text you)

Darling Tiara Lady,

I can hear you telling me to get over myself and stop being maudlin. To not write about this anniversary, because I can’t change the past. But who am I to argue with Shakespeare?

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak,
Whispers in the overwrought heart and bids it break
                                Macbeth, William Shakespeare

So here I am, giving sorrow words.

Don’t worry, I won’t let you down this evening. Bubbles o’clock will be EPIC today.

A year has passed since you left. At first every day was like walking a tightrope. I was suspended high above a freezing cold, bottomless lake. Trying to function, knowing that the smallest thing could make me look down. Then I’d lose my balance, hurtle down into the depths of that lake. I plunged into that icy pool again and again. It always came unexpectedly, catching me off guard. It knocked the air out of my lungs, made my heart ache. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only feel that visceral, tearing pain.

Those plunges are rarer now. More often the funny, priceless memories help keep my head above the icy water. I think about you often. I say hello to your photo on my mantelpiece regularly. I'm pretty sure you're laughing at me (as usual).

I was searching using the term "dive" on Microsoft images.
Look what turned up in the bottom right corner. I shit you not.
(Image from here)

That decision I made, just over a year ago, to not come and see you one last time when I had the chance, was a mistake. It ranks right up there with my biggest fuckups of all time. That decision has weighed me down, pulling on my ankles as I fought to swim to the surface of that lake and take a gulp of precious air.

There are a handful of sensible reasons that stopped me from being there. All of them were utter crap. That guilt will stay with me forever. I wish, with every fibre, that I had come to see you one last time when you offered. I am poorer for not doing that, and I can’t ever forgive myself. I hope you can. I'll be coming to visit you in your garden soon, I promise.

As humans we all crave connection. We connected quickly, fiercely and without expectation. I’ll always be grateful to you. The wonderful gift of the circle of love you created continues.

I hope that wherever you are, it’s bubbly o’clock every hour. I bet you have Luther there keeping you furry company. We all miss you here, and wonder what the Field of Flowers is really like.

I came to grieve, but found comfort here in this garden of memory.
Perhaps our spirits live in perfect peace in the wonder of each
flower and bird and tree.

                                Nan Witcomb

Much love,

Your Happy Sisters Band mate,

Michaela Like Vuvuzela

PS Yes I know I still text you. Shhhhhh. Shakespeare told me I could.

 

Lose Your Shit Friday #20

Apparently poor Miss Cinders’ family has lost their shit. Well, they’re all poorly. This is no more clear than in her decision to ask me to baby sit Lose Your Shit Friday this week. She must be crazy ill.

So, in the spirit of What the Fuck Wednesday – which was in the spirit of Lose Your Shit Friday – I’m looking after Lose Your Shit Friday. On Saturday.

Lost?

Australia, you really made me lose my shit this week.

In the spirit of the release of arbitrary bullshit scoring system NAPLAN results this week, let’s take a moment to review how Australia has performed this week.

We sent more traumatised people to a tiny under-resourced island so that other people (who were invited) won’t try to come here in dangerous, ill-equipped, over-crowded boats. And WORSE! We FORGOT TO SEND TONY AND JULIA WITH THEM. Shit. Our bad.

Tony, Julia, here’s a one way ticket to Nauru, a tent and a bucket. See you when you’ve grown a heart between you. (A feckin brain wouldn’t hurt too).

You put off the referendum on indigenous recognition in the constitution. Because apparently the community didn’t see it as a priority. Actually nobody asked us whether we were still interested in being asked about how interested we are in indigenous acknowledgement in the constitution.

I guess the government lost interest.

You guys voted on same-sex marriage. How about we have a referendum on that too (so you can delay it)? Because you seem to think you know what we want. Personally, I don’t know why anyone would WANT to get married. But I think everyone should have the right to.

“Civilisation” won’t crumble if we allow same sex people to marry each other, or if we allow women to wear the burqa, or if taxpayers pay for the funerals for asylum seekers. (Did I cover everything, Mr Bernardi? Hope you’re enjoying the UK. Don’t hurry home, OK?)

Let’s see if I’ve got this one right. In Australia we don’t protest over the murder of innocent children in various civil unrest conflicts around the world.

Instead we shove violent placards into our children’s hands and protest because some shit someone uploaded on YouTube mocked an intellectual construct that's tightly linked to our cultural identity. Hey are there any spots available on that boat to Nauru? I can live in a tent… just not the same one as Tony and Julia. (Just how big IS Nauru?)

The press think the average Aussie is passionate about private school principals and talent show contestants. Yep, those are just the arsehat headlines I look for to remind me of what’s important. Hey look! The principal is a headline for the FOURTH DAY IN A ROW. Good thing nothing of note is happening in Syria, Afghanistan or Africa right now. Phew.

Australia, I’m sending a note home to your mum:

MUST DO BETTER

WHAT MADE YOU LOSE YOUR SHIT THIS WEEK?
LINK UP BELOW!

Lose Your Shit Friday: (aka: LYSF) (meaning) A day when lots of people lose their shit. Sometimes it's unavoidable because, well, everything from the week kind of piles up and one has to let it go! I bet you know someone who has lost their shit come Friday, maybe even YOU!

Here's the deal LYSF meme:

• On any given Friday, let the crap escape your brain from the week via a post on your blog. Swearing, bold, use of CAPS, and even RED BOLD CAPS allow you to express just how shit your day/week has been.
• Grab the button from below this post, and stick it on your sidebar or in your Lose Your Shit Friday post.
• Come back here and use MrLinky to link up to your LYSF post - not just a link to your blog homepage.
• Visit whomever else has linked up that week, and share the "I totally understand why you're losing your shit" comment love!
• The LYSF meme is open all week from Fridays, so feel free to jump in with your post through the week!

It's that simple! And man does it feel good to let go of all the crap that has occupied your Friday/week!

<a href="http://www.saturdaymorningogremum.com/lysf-meme/" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.saturdaymorningogremum.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/smom_lysf_button.gif" alt="Lose Your Shit Friday" width="150" height="150" /></a>