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Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
What: Talk Like A Pirate Day PTUB.
Where: Little Creatures, 40 Mews Road, Fremantle WA.
Date: September 19th, 2009.
Time: 6:30pm till late.
Dress: Pirate costume theme, but a simple eye patch and pirate hat will suffice.
RSVP: Please RSVP on the Facebook event.
Tags: If you take photos at the event, please tag them ‘PTUB’, ‘PTUB19Sept09′ and ‘TLAPD’.
If you’re wondering what to wear or what to expect, check out the photos from last year’s Talk Like A Pirate Day Pirate PTUB. If you’re wondering what a PTUB is, check out the PTUB website.
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
The gorgeous Heather (known as Hesa on Twitter) will be in the upcoming channel Nine Network reality television series, The Apprentice.
“One of Australia’s most successful, high-profile businessmen, founder of Wizard Home Loans, Mark Bouris, is searching for his Apprentice. Bouris is exceptionally well regarded in the business community and working as his protégé will give one capable Australian an unprecedented start to their new career. The winner of The Apprentice will be guaranteed a new career with Bouris at his financial-services firm, Yellow Brick Road, with an incredible six figure salary.” – NineMSN.
Heather is currently filming the series and has been featured in the above promotional advert for the series that aired on channel Nine over the weekend. A fan website has already spawned at weloveheather.com to show support and allow fans of the brilliant blond to share information. I’ve joined the website to show my love and support for our Heather.
Good luck, gorgeous!
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
I’ve spent a few days last week trying to find a mobile car mechanic to fix a broken fan belt in my Mother’s car. I was given the task because the car couldn’t be towed to her workplace and she isn’t fond of car mechanics. I assumed finding one would be easy and would only require a phone call.
The first one I contacted had moved to Albany, the second had a car accident, the third was busy watching a movie, the fourth said he’d be there at a set time and never arrived or called. Frustrated, I told my mother that she should just buy a new car and sell this one to the Autobots so they can save the human race. She wasn’t amused by the Transformers joke, nor did she like this idea of a new car and preferred the fan belt to be fixed.
After receiving numerous rejections from various mobile car mechanics, I was quite shocked to finally find one that was happy to exchange money for services rendered. I booked a date and time, then relayed the information to my Mother, making another Transformers joke about how the Lube Mobile cars are probably Transformer porn stars in disguise. Ba dum tish.
The mobile car mechanic arrived on time and took a look under the hood. He said that one fan belt had died and took the other one with it to fan belt heaven. May they rest in pieces. He fitted the new fan belts, tinkered with a few other problems, then took the car for a test drive. I paid him, took the keys back, and as I was studying the invoice when he asked “do you go out much?” and my brain registered the question as him asking why I wasn’t out anywhere today.
“I had to wait for you to fix the car, I’m going out later” I replied.
“Oh yeah, where you going?”
“Out for dinner” I replied, still studying the invoice.
“With friends, at a pub or something?”
My concentration was broken by the unrelated question that had nothing to do with cars. I looked up from the invoice, thought about what I was doing and said with a smile, “I’m going to my boyfriends father’s house for dinner tonight.” His face dropped. My female brain registered his facial expressions, alerted me, did some calculations, and finally concluded that he was trying to ask me out. My brain has never been very good at in regards to such events, I went through high school unaware that a vast amount of my male friends spent years trying to hit on me.
After an awkward moment of silence he said, “well… ahh… hope you have fun, later, bye.”
I told a friend this story, she laughed, then we spent the next thirty minutes making car related sexual innuendos about lube and revving your engines. Thankfully she thought my Transformer jokes were hilarious.
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
Today marks my 7th Blogiversary. Seven years ago, on July 18th 2002, I registered Kitta.net and started blogging about random events in my life. I celebrated this significant occasion by drinking bubbles with my beloved Tahlia and taking silly photos using my sexy new Macbook Pro.
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
I’m currently working on some back-end code on my blog. If anything looks weird or you encounter an error, don’t fear, I am aware of the problem(s). Stability will return shortly.
And yes, I have noticed that I haven’t blogged in ages. I’m doin’ the work, I’m baby steppin’, I’m not a slacker. Check it out! Look it!
Thank you. 
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
Today was my first day back in class in for the semester. It was fun and interesting, in a brain melty kind of way. The units I’m studying this semester are a mix of chemistry, OH&S, testing procedures and various lab techniques. I’ve set the Periodic Table as my desktop wallpaper in hopes it might sink in.
The units seem spilt into two categories of students; older people who are retraining and school leavers. I’m stuck in the middle. I spent lunch with two older ladies, they chatted about bad sex and their multiple boyfriends, I nodded at various points while eating my fruit salad and thinking about Protons.
Things I learnt in lab today…
- Sucking up Hydrochloric Acid from a pipette with your mouth, instead on using a valve, will cause your teeth to fizz. My lecturer did this back when he was a student.
- That the emergency eye wash station isn’t adequate and to use the one in the lab down the hall in an eye emergency.
- That we get to play with awesome acidic chemicals soon.
- That my bad hard writing and poor memory are traits of a good scientist.
Things I didn’t learn in lab today…
- The weird name of the woman who sat next to me, even though she told me it five times. Sounded like Rohypnol.
- How we’re meant to find the lab down the hall that contains the proper emergency eye wash station if our eyes are being burnt by chemicals and we’re screaming “fuck, my eyes, they burnnnn!” I’ve never had dangerous lab chemicals come into close proximity with my eyes, but I assume it would be hard to see in that instance.
- Why we were forced to endure a lab safety video that was filmed in the 80’s and clearly targeted at high school level or really stupid adults who should never set foot in a lab.
- Why Michael Jackson is white.
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
A friend sent me a SMS today, “Holy crap!!! You’re on G4tv!”
Holy crap, I am featured at #2 on G4tv’s Attack of the Show Women of the Web segment this week. I don’t think there is an appropriate swear word to really express what I went through my mind when I watched the above video.
I did spot two mistakes; my domain isn’t kitta.com (last time I checked it’s owned by a Russian company that makes warheads for submarines and I’ve tried to contact them about buying the domain for years) and it’s spelt ‘Nikita’, but all is forgiven because they said I’m a nerds dream. 
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
According to the internet, I died.
Which really sucks. I finally found a boyfriend called Wanky who loves me, even though I’m a dude, and then I suddenly died according to Maxpower.
I have so many questions… How did I die? Was it a terrible high-heel related accident? Why did my beloved Wanky find out about my death at a variety of ass forum? Was there delicious cake at my funeral? Why was Fiona the only person to send @reply condolences? And why can I still post to my blog even though I’m dead?
The internet life is so confusing. 
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
I recently joined the geeky Leetbix boys - Grum, Somegen, Cuzza and Noodlez - at Leetbix HQ (Casa SomeGrum) for a night of gaming, trying to figure out how to open a wine bottle without a corkscrew, drinking, and helping the boys record a chaotic episode of their podcast, Leetbix.
Also present for the recording was Devar, Richard and Antz with his BIG THING, meanwhile the cooler kids - Lulu, Simone, Keg and Justin - can be heard in the background, laughing and throwing random objects at us.
Topics we discussed and made fun of were; Little Big Planet, Rock Band (and why it’s not out in Australia yet), Blizzcon, Jack Thompson (and my theory on what he does at night with hookers), Mods on Steam, Wario Land: Shake it, Warhammer Online, Brothers In Arms, Mercenaries 2, Lego Batman (and what other things we want to be legofied), Guitar Hero Aerosmith, Burnout Paradise & bike pack, Red Alert 3, Heroes (and why I love future bondage Claire), True Blood, Knight Rider (and why it sucked), and Top Gear Australia. We also mused about the short film shot on the Canon 5D Mk2 and the Google phone.
Once we were done recording we moved on to the gaming portion of the night, paying Buzz and Singstar. It was a fun night that finally ended around 4am, after we all became hungry and noticed the time. I finally collapsed in bed around 6am, just as the sun filtered through my window and the birds tweeted annoyingly.
If you want to listen to ‘The Boycott’ Leetbix episode, you can do so by subscribing via iTunes or clicking over to the Leetbix website to downloading it. More photos and videos from the event can be found on my Flickr and on Antz gallery.
Disclaimer: I was slightly tipsy; I would like to apologise to WoW players that don’t have a life, dead hookers, hookers in general, people who don’t know what computers are, cam whores, the girl from Passions, and anyone else I may have offended during the recording. The Penfolds Tawny Port made me do it.
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
Yesterday I turned 24 human years old - Kitta version 2.4 Alpha in net years - I celebrated my day of birth with my family and became quite tipsy while drinking some strange pink fizzy wine that I was informed I had to drink. I was suffering from a slight hangover today because of said pink fizzy wine. My family says I was drunk, I say I was tipsy, because I refuse to admit that pink fizzy wine can make you drunk. It’s just too girly.
Speaking of girly, one of my birthday presents was a pink camera.
It all started a month ago when my family asked me what I desired for my birthday, besides an electron microscope, I told them I wanted a shiny new camera. My family took me camera shopping after I had a few glasses of wine at lunch and I started flirting with the sales guy to obtain a further discount on the sale price. It totally worked. But the only Canon IXUS80 IS (also known as the Powershot SD1100 IS) in stock was in pink.
It does take nice pictures (of my tipsy self) though.
I want to say a big thank you to everyone who sent me birthday well wishes via email, Twitter, Facebook, DM’s, PM’s, SMS’s, flying monkeys, phone calls, etc. You made me feel very loved and I’m grateful to have so many wonderful people in my life. 
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
Today marks my 6th Blogiversary. Six years ago, on July 18th 2002 BSC, I registered my domain Kitta.net and started blogging. It’s hard to believe I’ve been blogging for so long and received nearly four million unique hits.
But this isn’t my first time I’ve blogged. Oh no.
Prior this blog I had a Teen Open Diary from 2000 to 2002. For those of you who know what that is, you’ll be cringing or laughing. For those of you that don’t know what it is, you’ll be trying to Google it and are probably better off not knowing. TOD closed down years ago and the domain is now home to spam links. I decided to track it down my TOD via the internet time machine.
At the time I was teenager, working as a model and studying design. The majority of my posts were about my experiences in the fashion industry, which would have be interesting if I applied proper spelling and didn’t complete every quiz I found. It featured poems from my boyfriend, pointless rants and forwarded email jokes. I posted riveting entries entitled “I wasn’t gonna write but…”, “I have so much to write…”, “…and make you moan the ABC’s in spanish”, “Some things have happened”, “My day was pretty good”, “10 cookies, a piece of pizza & some M&M’s”, “Boredness, hornyness & kittas gentlemans club”, “Always a bride, never actually married”, “Long time, no me typing crap into this diary…”, “Doggie style & Things that piss me off”, “Does this taste funny to you?” “Freedom of X-rated stuff” and “Gutter sluts and Lush.” I also provided some code advice for fellow TOD users, “Kitta’s guide to linking in TOD” was quite popular, while “Kitta’s guide to Html Basics in TOD” and “More of Kitta’s guide to html” provided great insight into HTML. Everyone was so amazed by “Kitta’s guide to posting a picture in TOD” and “Why your pictures wont show in your TOD” that I probably should have won a Nobel prize for my work.
Thankfully, none of those entries were indexed, neither was my terrible first attempt at a website on a free hosting site - we’re talking black and magenta with comic sans. Sexy.
I went through my Kitta.net archives today and picked a few of my favourite blog posts to mark the occasion…
- Paused - The one about my Grandmother
- Leet Wow Hacker - The one where I own a kid
- Stop Trolley Thief - The one where my trolley was stolen
- SuperShadow or SuperStupid? - The one where I owned SuperShadow
- Two Cops & Me In A Towel - The one with two cops and me in a towel
- My McDonalds Milkshake - The one with two girls and their milkshake theory
- One Boring Sunday - The one where we blew up the garage
- No Cookie For Me - The one with the Subway guy
- On Behalf Of Firefox - The one where I tried to sell Firefox to a telemarketer
- Emailing England - The one where my Mother tried to email England
- 2008, 2007 and 2005 prediction series - The ones where I predict the sarcastic future
Here’s to another year of blog posts about random moments of my life.
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
I never thought I would say this - it’s so ludicrous and I cannot even believe it myself. But I feel it needs to be said publicly…
I have become a Dr Phil viewer.
This past week I have been overcome by severe illness. It all started late one night with a tickle in my throat, while I slept the tickle swiftly turned into strep throat (Streptococcal Pharyngitis). I was subjected to 40°C fever and chills. I dehydrated to the point where my family begged me to let them take me to the hospital. Delirious and stubborn, I managed to fight off dehydration and my families plea. But I’m not sure how I did so, my brain seems to have locked away the memory in the ‘lets not go there’ section. I do remember my legs aching and telling my mother that I wanted “ice melted”… I meant water.
As I was recovering from asking for melted ice and a fever, my chest become jealous of the attention my throat was gathering and decided to become infected. Chest forced me to cough every few seconds, just to let everyone know that chest is hardcore and that throat better not fuck with chest.
Yes. I am medicated while writing this.
Then my sinuses finally decided to join the infection party. What ensued was days of, “is your nose still running?” jokes from my mother who has been caring for me. I felt totally lady like laying in bed with tissues stuck permanently in my nose. I’m slowly recovering, very slowly, which is aggravating. It’s not being sick that aggravates me. It’s the not being able to care for myself or do anything. My room is a mess, I haven’t done laundry or cooked myself a proper nutritious meal in over a week, a bracelet I was making is left uncompleted, I have a mountain of errands, friend to see, pancake craving to quench, plans and events to attend, zombies to kill, and I haven’t even been feeling well enough to game. I think the latter annoys me the most, as gaming is the what I look forward to most when I’m sick in bed. It alleviates my daily frustrations.
This is why I have been reduced to watching Dr Phil.
Maybe it’s the medication. Maybe I have residue delirium. Maybe it’s boredom. Maybe I suspect Dr Phil is operated by the Daleks and someone has to watch what those exterminating bastards are doing. Maybe I hope he’ll make a point instead of sound bite. Maybe I just used the word ‘maybe’ too many times in one blog post. I’m convinced - after a good weeks worth of forced research - that daytime TV is the root of all evil. But the root of all evil has been my only source of entertainment. The TV shows I normally enjoy are all on break, so I bow down to evil daily until I can get out of bed and return to the living.
I told friends about my Dr Phil - Philly, as I like to call him - addiction and I think they are now planning an intervention. Which is awesome. I hope they bring some DVD’s and pancakes.
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
I attended the Craft & Quilt fair on Saturday and went to see Indiana Jones on Sunday. It was the first weekend in months that I’ve gone somewhere that was fun and not stressful.
As I walked around the Perth Convention Exhibition Centre I listened to the crowd, overhearing bits of conversation amongst strangers, people say the funniest things when they assume their conversations will be lost in the noise.
“I tried lampworking once and burnt off my eyebrows.”
“There are a lot of men here today. They’re either gay or selling something.”
“Someone should make a quilt to put in her mouth.”
“I loved my last enema.”
“If I buy this I won’t be able to pay for my weekly erotic massage and bottle of wine.”
“Before we go I want to check out the stall with the crap bags”
I noticed that most items for sale at the fair were in kit form; bead kits, quilt kits, teddy bear kits, knitting kits, kit kits, kitted kit kits, etc. In amongst the craft stalls was the token guy with the iron shoe that no one pays attention to. I was saddened at the lack of creativity. Sure, it’s creative in a sense. You are making that quilt or beaded necklace. But the pattern isn’t yours, and I personally wouldn’t feel a sense of accomplishment that comes with creating something unique that is a reflection of your creativity.
I started beading when I was ten. Back then there were no kits for sale, I learnt how to string a simple seed bead bangle from a friend and was hooked. Soon my friend and I had our own store at the school fete, our items - although simple and cheap - sold amazingly well and we made hundreds of dollars during those years. Which is large sum for a ten year old. The only problem was that all proceeds were meant to be donated to our school, a rule which I decided to bend, because I didn’t feel our hard work should go unrewarded. When the vice principal came over to collect our takings - much like a pimp - I handing her a jar containing $20 of coins and kept the notes that added up to $100 hidden away. She was surprised. “Oh no” I thought, “she knows and I’m going to have my kneecaps broken with plastic baseballs bats hired at lunch time!” Then she said, “you’ve done well, $20 is a lot of money!” I nodded and smiled. Later that day I went to the local store and bought as much junk food as my $50 cut could buy. It was delicious.
I tell you this devious story not because I want you to know I was once a kid who totally owned my pimpish vice principal, but because it was my grounding in beading. Where my love for beading blossomed and was allowed to take form without the need for a kit.
No photography was allowed at the fair, which struck me as odd rule for an event which is meant to inspire. Why is no photography allowed when kits and patterns are for sale? I was personally inspired quite a few times, not by an entire work, but by little things. The way a clasp was attached or a stringing method. But the inspiration was lost amongst the cluster of everything I saw that day.
A few items and products did stick in my mind…
- Microwave kilns - They entice me to finally purchase a lampworking kit and try making my own lampworked beads.
- Shop in a Qube concept store - If you want somewhere to sell your products, check it out. It’s quite an interesting concept.
- Beading supplies - I purchased some interesting glass beads and some half price gemstones.
- Clover wonder knitter - It looks like a toy, but once it was demonstrated to me I had to have one.
Before I left I decided to buy a late lunch, as I had been walking around for a good two hours while my stomach protested every few minutes. The best option for a cold winters day was hot chips. Alas, the chips tasted like six month old oil, looked like deep fried carrots, cost $6.90 and were possibly the worst food item I’ve ever consumed. At least they weren’t selling them in kit form.
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
Amongst all the chaos of the last few months; the break-up, tears, arguments, unwarranted weight loss, depression, headaches, death, cancer, life changes and challenges…
I seem to have found my creativity again.
A week ago I stumbled upon a box full of findings and beads on sale. I dug around the box, found a few items, and decided to buy them without intention to use them. “They’re cheap and I might use them one day,” I assured myself. Then my creative energy flowed and during a five hour beadathon yesterday I created an array of bracelets.
My new found creative energy could be linked to the fact that a dear friend of mine suddenly found out some devastating news regarding the health of her baby, news that took me days to comprehend and acknowledge. Her beloved seven month old baby boy has numerous incurable cancerous tumours all over his body. Four in his brain, one wrapped around his heart, another wrapped around his windpipe and spine, no major organ is free from the cancerous tumours. I cried for days. The entire situation seems so unfair and surreal. His mother celebrated her first Mother’s Day by his side in hospital, hoping for a miracle and asking for resolve. Weeks earlier the young family had moved into their new home, they were looking forward to a holiday and planning a first birthday later this year. This week doctors and family prepare for the inevitable. When I first heard the news it felt like a bad dream, because I never knew such an aggressive cancer could attack a baby in such a manner. It’s everywhere. The doctors are performing chemotherapy not to cure the cancer, but to possibly shrink the tumours and make him more comfortable, he is in pain, pain that he cannot vocalise given how young he is. A miracle has been questioned, as everyone involved clings to hope, doctors are regrettably confident that even if all of the multiple tumours could be shrunk and/or surgically removed, the cancer would return within months given it’s aggressive nature.
Aggressive. I hate that word.
The recent events have made me realise how cruel and unfair life can be, forcing me to contemplate mortality in great detail, leading towards sleepless nights and rumination.
“To die is poignantly bitter, but the idea of having to die without having lived is unbearable.” - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
There are a few things you do not expect to say while watching a supposedly controlled and family orientated Easter fireworks display.
One of these things is, “I’m not staying here, I’ll probably be killed” or “too dangerous” you also don’t expect to turn around to find a distressed mother trying to find the first-aid tent to treat her young son who copped a firework to the face, causing his cheeks to welt and his cries to recoil in pain.
Unless you attend a supposedly controlled and family orientated Easter fireworks display in Rockingham…
When you hear me say “ow” or “fuck” it’s because I was hit by bits of fireworks, and yes, I do believe I was entitled to the swearing, Mum. When you hear the kid in front say “ow fuck” it’s because a smouldering amber hit him in the leg. When you hear various crowd members scream, “ow fuck my eyes” as fireworks that make a ’sizzle’ sound are launched, it’s because the crowd was treated to a good old fashioned carnival eye burning. And when you hear me say “too dangerous” it’s because I finally realised how foolish it was to be that close, and promptly moved away, only to nearly be hit again by a large searing remains of a firework while standing under cover at a showbag stand.
Sorry for my Cloverfieldesque camera work, It’s hard to capture decent quality video when your eyes, skin and throat are burning. I was trying to hide under my hoodie for the duration, meanwhile, my friends decided to move away to a safe distance because they’re not big on having their flesh burnt.
After nearly being killed, we perused the rest of the carnival, I bought fairy floss and we were pleased to see the ‘hot sweet & juicy’ corn van and freaky clown games involving balls were present and accounted for…
The towns slogan should be changed to, “Rockingham, if our bogans don’t kill you our fireworks will.”
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
My life has been set on pause for the last few months.
Every day I have been waiting; waiting for the nurse to return my call, waiting while driving an hour to the hospital, waiting for the doctor, waiting for a lift, waiting in line at the café around the street because the hospital has banned my beloved Coca Cola, waiting for the night to end without receiving an urgent call about her condition, waiting at a specialists, waiting for a time machine to be invented so I can go back to last year and prepare for said waiting.
My grandmothers health has been poor since late last year. A late night trip to the hospital last August revealed a long sinus pause in her heart, the doctor was slightly concerned and referred her to a cardiologist who performed various tests. One of the last tests he ordered was a holter monitor in February. After wearing the holter monitor for 24 hours she was told that the cardiologist would take a look and get back to her in a few days. She strolled down to the bus stop and decided to stop in the city to do some shopping before returning home. Just as the bus pulled up to the stop and she prepared to board, she heard someone screaming her name. It was two nurses, running in her direction and screaming her name, followed by another nurse with a wheelchair. When they finally reached her, they told her that there was a serious problem, that the cardiologist wanted to admit her so he could assess her situation. My grandmother, stubborn at heart, asked them if she could come back later, as she wanted to do some shopping. Five minutes later the nurses finally convinced her that it was urgent, then a few hours later my Gran was on a ward, hooked up the heart monitors, having her blood pressure taken hourly and still unsure what all the fuss was about.
The fuss was about a three second sinus pauses during the day and a six-ten second sinus pauses at night time. She was kept in hospital for over a week in late February. Treatment was a pacemaker, but her doctors were concerned about her high blood pressure, various clotting medications and low white blood cell count, they decided to postpone the procedure for a week and try to stabilise her blood pressure and blood count. My Gran spend her days in hospital protesting politely. She is very independent and despises anyone making a fuss. She told the doctors to just get on with and and not worry about her, as she was sure they had more important things to do, they laughed and pointed out that worrying about her was their job and she was their most critical patient in their care.
When I visited her in hospital, I first noticed that she was hooked up to monitors and looking quite sickly and tired, the first things she asked me was “who won the cricket last night?” I laughed, she told me that her motto is ‘nothing in life is more important than lotto, cricket and football’. After I found out the cricket scores from another patient, I went to find a vase for the flowers I had bought her. I found a vase near the nurses station, as I snipped off the stems the head nurses said, “your Gran really scares the night staff” in a serious tone that caught me off guard. I asked why - given that she in her late 80’s and doesn’t own a gun - he replied, “her sinus pauses at night, they’re becoming too long, they sit watching the monitor ready to page the doctor.” After that confession I no longer slept well at night either.
During another visit I stopped by her unit to gather some of her belongings. Betty, one of my Grandmothers friends, met me outside and inquired about when she was coming home. I told her I was unsure, then she asked if I would pass on well wishes to my Gran and that she missed gossiping with her. I replied, “of course, I’m sure she misses your company and can’t wait to see you again” with a smile. Betty was pleased. She bid goodbye and proceeded to walk away. Then she suddenly paused and turned around to say possibly one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever received, “you remind me of my granddaughter, she always looks me in the eye when she talks to me and has such a warmth about her. You don’t see that in a lot of young people these day. Your Grandmother is lucky to have you.”
I must say, RPH have fantastic staff. I am astounded by their professionalism and friendliness. You simply look confused in a corridor and a orderly appears - as if by teleportation - and asks you if you need some assistance. It’s sad that the government plan to close such a historical hospital.
My only gripe - a frivolous one at that - is there seems to be a ban on classic Coca Cola at the hospital. Upon consulting the nurses, I found out they score a hit of Coke from the dealers down the street and I then started buying Coke in bulk for myself and the day nurses.
My grandmother was discharged from the hospital two days after they put in the pacemaker. She then stayed with me for a week so I could keep an eye on her and while she watched the cricket. Apart from some bruising and the pacemaker needed it’s pulse/speed changed, she is feeling dramatically better. She has returned home to gossip with her friend Betty and is quite perplexed as to why she feels a tad weak when walking to the shops. Her doctor says it will take six-eight weeks for her to fully recover and for her to take it easy.
Alas, easy is not how my Gran rolls.
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
One of my boyfriends highly professional workmates purchased a KitKat at work, and to his amazement, it had no wafers present amongst the chocolatey goodness. Shock and horror was felt among the workers to find a waferless KitKat. As my boyfriend likes to fight against evil doers and injustice in the workplace - occasionally when I forget his job description, I just say he works for Torchwood - he decided to call Nestle and transcribe the entire conversation, and then email it to me for my perusal and enjoyment…
“Hello, how can I help you?”
“Well, I just had a disappointing experience with one of your chocolate products.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, which product was it?”
“The KitKat.”
“Was that a standard KitKat?”
“It was branded as such, but I soon discovered it was substandard.”
“So what was the problem with the KitKat?”
“I guess you could say it had no Kat in it.”
“No cat in it?”
“Yes, it was missing the delicious chocolatey wafer Kat centre.”
“Oh, that definitely would have made the experience less enjoyable.”
“Definitely. It was a disappointment to find the absence of the wafer inside. I mean, I would say that would be the whole point of the KitKat, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m very sorry to hear that, Sir. We will have a refund out to you with an apology letter as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, I trust that my experience with your confectionary in the future will be much more satisfactory.”
True to their word, Nestle sent a $5 cheque in the mail for the anguish caused by the Kit being Katless and they have yet to figure out how to spend the immense sum. Another injustice solved.
Originally published at Kitta.net. Please leave any comments there.
According to Wired’s third annual Sexiest Geeks list, I am one of 2007’s sexiest geeks.
I’m unsure what one is meant to say when they receive such a prestigious and esteemed nomination.
Every year, Wired nominates the smartest, sexiest and most Wired men and women of the year. I’m up there with the sexy greats; Danica McKellar, Kary Byron, Amber MacArthur, Kary Byron (her clone), Morgan Webb, Olivia Munn, Leah Culver, Veronica Belmont, Felicia Day, Leah Culver (another clone), Kristen Bell, Alyson Hannigan and Joss Whedon. Who sadly seems to be the last man standing in the top-rated list. Whedon must possess some awesome fanboy powers or have hundreds of monkeys to do his evil biddings.
And then there is me, somewhere in the middle of it all, with 830 positive and 476 negative votes. Accompanying my photo is a short description which claims that I possess “mad CSS skillz” and that I enjoy playing WoW. Mad CSS skillz, that is such a nice thing for you to say… I mean, my code is really depreciated. I know, I’ve been wanting to release my re-design into the wild, but I’m trying to overachieve with it, do something amazing, which is a bit like trying to bend a spoon with your mind when you have no mind to bend it wit… Wait a minute.
Since when do I play WoW?
I’m pretty sure I have never played World of Warcraft, as I prefer FPS over MMORPG’s. So unless my WoW playing friends have drugged and kidnapped me for the horde or someone is posing as me on WoW (which would be a new level of weird that has yet to be achieved by my fakers/posers), I’m pretty sure I have never played WoW.
Does this mean you were lying about the “mad CSS skillz” too?
Update…
I have been cloned. There are now two of me present on Wired’s Sexiest Geeks of 2007 list. Can you pick which one is the cyborg?
