Posts Tagged ‘trivia’

Today I reformated my laptop and it is nice and squeaky-clean. On the inside anyway. The keyboard still has it’s fair share of chocolate and cherry turnover crumbs stuck amongst the keys. That’ll have to be tomorrow’s job. I had to reformat because something sinister had managed to get into my system and cause the left click key to cark itself. I couldn’t even click on the start button any more.

I quite like reformating. It’s a bit like spring-cleaning. You grit your teeth, um and ah and finally toss out some old thing you’ve been hanging on to forever but haven’t touched in ages. It feels awful the moment you are chucking it, but once it’s gone, and you realise the world hasn’t imploded without it, it’s quite cathartic.

And so it is with getting rid of all those files you stick away ‘just in case’. I always create a tidy folder because I hate icons on my desktop, and I shove everything in the tidy folder. I have no idea why I kept half the crud I had in there. But, anyway, it’s gone now, and I’m feeling quite pleased with myself about the big clean out. If only I could start on my wardrobe…

So now, as I said, I have a squeaky clean laptop, but there’s one problem. I have so many passwords, which were all saved on the computer before I wiped it, and now I’m having trouble remembering them. I’ve been pulling my hair out going through all the possible combinations I might have (cleverly) used in the past – all the way back to the kind of passwords I used when I was a naive internet virgin. (Passwords like ‘123abc’ or ‘Lucy’). Not a lot of luck, although I was able to remember the password to this site (obviously). One day I shall invent a password so clever that even I will remember it.

I have very few photos of myself, mainly because I’m not particularly photogenic and I try to stay out of them, and also because I’m usually the one on the other side of the camera taking the pic. Tonight I was trying to tidy up the box we keep the photos in, and came across a few of me, so I thought I’d post some here.

First one, me as a baby. I had colic and used to scream non-stop apparently. Well, not quite true – I’d stop squawking while I was being fed, so I was fed ALOT! lol. Kind of a viscious circle really cos my dinner was what was making my tummy hurt. Poor me.

This is me and my sister Katrina. I’m digging our matching crotcheted dresses. They look to be exactly the same, which is surprising because Mum used to dress me in red (cos I had dark hair), and Katrina in blue (cos she had blue eyes). We hated it because we’d always get the same Christmas present, and as soon as Katrina opened hers up and we saw she had a blue whatever, I’d know instantly that I’d be getting the same thing, only red!

I still remember those dogs. They were battery operated, and you pulled on the leash and they’d walk along and bark.

I am probably one of THE squarest people you’ll ever come across. I’ve always been incredibly square and daggy. This pic says 1979, which means I was ELEVEN years old and still sitting on Santa’s lap. Now that’s daggy. Note the daggy hairstyle – a kind of ‘bushy thing on top of head’ look. As you’ll see in the photo after this, it only got worse…

Good grief that is BAD hair! This is a scan of a very blurry polaroid on my first day of high school. That’s my friend Jenny Key who lived next door in Blacktown. If you ever spot this photo Jenny and think the photo has come back to haunt you, don’t worry – you’re the one with the normal hairdo. (And drop me a line will you?) I was an incredibly daggy teenager – my favourite outfit was a red terry towelling tracksuite with white stripes, and occasionally, I even wore those ‘boob tube’ dresses – remember those monstrosities?!

As you can see, my taste in fashion was so sophisticated, I went from red tracky dacks to this pink and black polkadot number. This is me with Lauren, my first child. I look like I’m about 13 there but I’m actually 21.

This is me after I’d given birth to Alex, my second baby. I was about 25 I think. I look knackered!

From polkadot tshirts, we go to full medieval garb. Those are fake braids. This was at a university feast thingy. I spotted a UFO that night. (And I hadn’t been drinking).

This is one of my two blonde phases. Tons and tons of streaks which totally ruined my hair, but I liked it. It was great to have something to blame my stupidity on, other than myself.

This post is worth it’s weight in gold.  Hang on to it because it is so fleeting and rare that it could end up being a priceless artefact in years to come.  Why?  Because it is my fourth attempt at posting a blog article with this friggin’ new Firefox 3, and each time I’ve accidently lost my post.  The backspace on the new Firefox 3 doesn’t seem to delete my mistakes – instead it takes me out of the page I’ve been typing on and acts as a browser back button, so I lose my post.  I was up late the other night and wrote a scintellating post full of wit and banter, but alas, it fell on deaf ears (or eyes – and then that’d be ‘blind eyes…) because stupid Firefox took on a life of it’s own and saw fit to go take me back to the Courier Mail which I’d been reading beforehand.

Anyway, the other day I was inspired by my muse (also known as ‘Cadbury’s Peppermint Chocolate’) to write about what life is like as a 40 year old, as opposed to life as a 39 year old.  In short, I concluded it’s no different.  As I was pondering this I happened to rub my chin, and found to my dismay that a nasty pimple had sprung up overnight.  Further exploration found yet another one – this time in the crease near my nostril.  It was one of those painful little sods which are twice as sore as the big impressively eeky looking ones.  Hmmm…40 years old and a bout of acne.  I wondered if my decrepid 40 year old body had begun to show it’s vintage.  Had my aging, diminishing hearing mistaken the word ‘forty’ with ‘fourteen’ and given me a rash of zits as a teenage birthday present?

As I am apparently going through a second teen-age, I am going to have to engage in egocentric moodswings, squeeze into ugly outfits which make me look like a cheap prostitute,  giggle at boys, and say stupid things on the end of my sentences like ‘like’, like.  I will have to fill my life with angst ridden poetry, and complain about my lot in life because I’m asked to do the washing up and I must be the only 14 year old in the universe who has to work so hard.  Myspace is going to have to be my top priority – I’ll have to fish out the digital camera and pose in front of the bathroom mirror while capturing my sexiness for Myspace posterity so that everyone can make such astute comments about my pics: ‘ur HOT!’  (or not, I think I’m getting a bit carried away here).

Anyway, so far, so good, I’ve managed to waffle and I haven’t lost the post yet. This wasn’t actually what I was going to post about, but, well this is a wafflelogue, and I’m lucky Firefox hasn’t had a hissy fit.  Maybe I should quit while I’m ahead, like.