If I murder the infomercial people, I'm pretty sure I could get off with justifiable homicide...

Source

They used me, abused me, and violated me in ways most unbefitting.  I thought I could trust them.  I thought they had honor.

I will never trust television advertising again!

I was watching something on television the other day when an ad came on ranting about the benefits of using this new frizzy hair product. You'd smooth out the tangles, you'd reduce the static, you'd end up looking just like the model ... apparently.

I found it hard to believe that I'd end up looking like a six foot amazonian blonde who seemed to have left her lower ribs at home that day just because I used a handful of goop on my hair, but hey, I'm open minded. I decided to give it a go anyway.

I suppose I should have known better than to believe a ruddy hair product ad. They've never told me the truth before, why should they start now?

But despite what my common sense was telling me, I trotted down to my local apothocary and shelled out the ridiculous sum of $40 for the bottle of serum.  A very, VERY small bottle of serum.

Sure it was a lot of money for such a teensy amount of hair product, but it'd be worth every cent if it actually worked.  My hair has always been on the curly side, with a definite leaning towards frizz whenever I'm silly enough to try brushing it.  If the production worked even half as well as they claimed, it would have been money well spent.  I got home, washed my hair and smoothed the stuff on, then dried it.

 No difference. No berloody difference whatsoever! 

 I've been duped! Hoodwinked! Honestly, one of these days I'm going to hunt down all these snake oil merchants and exact my own special brand of vigilante justice!

Seriously, it's a dangerous thing to do, tempting a frizzy haired woman with promises of smooth, silky curls!  There isn't a jury in the land that would convict me!

It was a dark and stormy night when Harry crept into Draco's dorm room...

There's one question I get asked a lot that never fails to make me gulp in a visually comical way.

"So, Kellie, what are you reading at the moment?"

I'm sure you guys know what I'm talking about.  When people find out you like to write, it's just a short jump to assuming (quite correctly) that you like to read too.  And if you like to read, then you must have some amazing recommendations of stuff that will blow their minds.  Perhaps some hidden gem that will turn out to be the next Harry Potter series.

Oh boy, I could definitely recommend things that would blow their minds ... I'm just not sure if I should.

Okay, I'll just come out and say it ... I read fan fiction.

I know, I know, I'm not supposed to like that stuff.  Or at least I'm not supposed to admit to liking that stuff.  But you know what?  I'm done with the hiding!  I'm coming out of the literary closet!

I'm a fan fiction reader, and proud of it!

And really, before you go scoffing at my lack of literary depth you really should try it first.  I can't even begin to tell you how wonderful it is knowing that somewhere out in the world there's a small army of people, and they're all writing hundreds of thousands of words a day about shows and characters that I already love.  I never run out of things to read, I get to see what my favourite characters would do in situations the TV networks would never allow them to be in, and I don't have to pay a cent for it!

So instead of hiding my literary leanings, I've decided I'm just going to be honest from now on.  When someone asks me what I'm reading now, I'm just going to tell them.  Maybe I'll even give them an URL or two.

But I don't think I'll warn them about the tendency fan fiction authors have to pile on the homoerotica and make all their characters gay.  I'll just leave that as a surprise.



Kellie's Fan Fiction Recommendations (just some of my favourites)

Sandstorms [link] by Mithreon (Stargate Atlantis) - Lot and lots of angst here.  I cried so much reading it! 

Make A Wish [link] by Rorschach's Blot (Harry Potter) - This was written before the series was finished, but it's hilarious and well worth the read.   

My Father's Keeper [link] by Emerald1 (NCIS) - Another angsy offering, this time with poor Tim McGee getting the rough end of the stick. 

Syrup and Honey [link] by LauGS (Glee) - a really well done "what if" story where Kurt owns a bakery. 

Ianto Jones' Diary [link] by Torchwoodfour (Torchwood) - This one was great!  A bit of a "missing scenes" one, in the form of a Bridget Jonesesque diary written by good old Ianto.  

Feel free to leave recommendations of your own in the comments!  I'm always looking for new stuff to read!

Go back to Uni, they said ... it'll be fun, they said...

Help, I've got my first postgrad exam on Tuesday and I'm kind of having a melt down!  Send chocolate!

Okay, maybe I'm overstating it just a tad.  I'm not exactly panicking yet ... I'm sure that will happen sometime on Tuesday morning ... but I am starting to get worried.  Why did I decide to study accouning?  Why couldn't I choose a nice, safe postgrad in ancient history or anthropology or archaeology?

But no, I had to decide that if I was going to make my career in finance, which given that I've been working in the field for 18 year seems pretty likely, it might be a good idea if I actually had some qualifications.  I know, I'm full of kooky ideas like that.

Now I'm no stranger to mature age tertiary education.  I did my archaeology degree while I was working full time, so I know all about having to juggle work and study and how to make use of the company photocopiers.  Back then I could do my readings before work started, jot off an essay in my lunch break, and barely break a sweat.

But a postgrad in accounting?  That's a whole other kettle of fish.

Last time around I was studying a history based course, which pretty much meant I spent all my time reading stories and then bullshitting essays based on what I read.  I was good at that!  Hell, I'm sure any blogger out there could cruise their way through a history based degree on the power of their bullshitting skills alone.

But I can't do that with this course.  This time I can't rely on a half assed knowledge of the facts and a better than average vocabulary to get me by.  This time I actually have to STUDY stuff!

I know, the sheer nerve!

Oh well, I guess I should just suck it up and keep at it.

But seriously, how the hell does one do a Cashflow Statement anyway?  Because as far as I can tell the numbers make about as much sense as if they'd been pulled out of one of those rolling bingo cages at random.

I just wonder if they'll provide the bingo cage in the exam or if I have to supply my own.

Warning, cranky woman ahead...

My head hurts. My hair's being all sticky up. My shoes are too tight. The underpants gnomes ate all my undies. My pen is scratchy. My computer is flickering. My bird hates me. My fridge smells like dirty sweat socks and cheese. My carpet is like a wilderness preserve for ants. My desk is buried in paper. My filing cabinet is trying to eat me. My cat is ignoring me.

It's just one of those days, I'm afraid.  It feels a little like the world is conspiring to ... well, not make me angry exactly.  Annoy me a little, perhaps?

Do any of you ever have those days?  You know the ones, where everything seems to take a perverse delight in going wrong and no matter how hard you try all you really want to do is yell at someone and my GOD why do people insist on standing so close to my desk to have a twenty minute long conversation about something I neither know nor care anything about?

Seriously, you've all got your own desks!  What's so appealing about mine that makes you all head straight to it!

I know, I know, I'm being unreasonable, but I just can't seem to help myself.  Everything is rubbing me the wrong way today and it really is only a matter of time before someone's left in tears ... and it ain't gonna me me. 

Normally I'm PMSing when I'm in this sort of a mood, but I've checked the calendar and I'm definitely not.

It's official then, it's not me. It's all the rest of you guys.

Demons are a ghoul's best friend...

It's Halloween week, everybody!  Happy Halloween!  May the costumes be tarty, the horrors B-grade, and the chocolate plentiful!  I hope you're all ready to go out there in your Halloween best and celebrate in the spirit of the season!

Spirit!  Get it?  Get it?

Well if you won't do it for yourselves, at least do it for us poor Southern Hemispherians.  Much to my chagrin, Australia doesn't really take Halloween very seriously.  Sure the supermarkets have started selling carving pumpkins in the past few years but they're stupidly expensive, and trick-or-treaters tend to be the exception rather than the norm.

We are severely Halloween deprived down here, we have to live vicariously through you lot.

But I shall not allow the lack of Halloween spirit in my homeland to bring me down.  I WILL carve my ridiculously expensive pumpkin.  I WILL have chocolate on hand just incase some intrepid tot finds their way to my front door in a home made Spiderman costume.  I WILL wait until it's dark out on Thursday night and then watch Ghost Ship, the absolute best B-grade horror film ever made.

Seriously, if you've never seen it you have to.  It's worth it for the opening scene alone. (careful though, it's pretty graphic)

No?  Bit too gruesome?  Oh well, there's always Hocus Pocus, I suppose.  A talking animatronic cat and Bette Midler as a three hundred year old witch?  Sign me up!

But whatever your spooky viewing pleasure, I hope you all have a Happy Halloween, my dears!

Sometimes I'm not sure if I really trust my moral compass...

So ... this is a conversation I had over brunch the other day.  There are times when I probably shouldn't let people know exactly what I'm thinking.

Me:  Are you all ready to go to Mexico?  You're going to have a great time!

Her:  Yeah ... if I can just survive long enough to actually go.  I've got so much to do before then.  Seriously, I need an assistant, someone who's willing to work for about fifty cents an hour. 

Him:  Well you do work with refugees and immigrants, if anyone has access to cheap labor, it's you. 

Her:  That's an awful thing to say!

Him:  Come on, are you saying you've never even considered it? 

Her:  Of course not!  What do you think I am? 

Me:  (mutters) Obviously not one to take advantage of the opportunities offered. 

Her:  I'm supposed to be HELPING them, not turning them into what pretty much equates to slave labor! 

Him:  But if you could, would you? 

Her:  ... 

Me:  I hate to admit it, but I might.  

Her:  ... 

Me:  I'm not saying that I'd do it, just that if things were different, if we lived in a world where slavery was considered "acceptable" ... I can't be sure exactly where my morals would fall. 

Her: ... 

Me:  I'd like to think I'd be all "Slavery is bad, m'kay?" but I know myself well enough to admit that, if the option was on the table and no one was going to judge me for it, I might. 

Her:  ... seriously!!! 

Me:  I said might. 

Him:  (shakes head sadly) Kellie, I'm very disappointed in you.

Me:  Oh, don't come across all holier than though.  I know for a fact that the only thing keeling you from committing cold blooded murder is that you wouldn't survive in jail. 

Him:  Touche. 

Her:  ... how are we even friends? 

I suppose it's lucky I don't live in a world where slavery is considered okay, I'm not sure if I really trust my moral compass.

My presence in a mall is a sign of the apocalypse...

If you know anything about me, you'll know that I'm not a shopper.

 Actually, that's an understatement ... I'm perhaps the world's worst shopper.  I'm impatient, I lose my temper if I don't find what I want right off, and I've been known to make innocent little shop assistants cry with my sarcastic comments and temper tantrums.  I believe they still tell stories about me at some of the larger centres.

It's like I'm an urban legend!

The reason I bring this up (yes, there actually IS a reason) is because yesterday I found myself with a friend out shopping.  Don't ask me how I got there, I'm not completely certain. All I know is suddenly there I was, wandering through kitchen stores looking for a baking timer! This was completely unprecedented.  And even scarier, I didn't lose my temper once!

I'm starting to worry myself now. Kellie going shopping and not hating it? Kellie wandering around in a shopping centre for the better part of a day and not wanting to rip someone's lungs out through their nostrils? It's something that's never happened to me before and I'm sure how to deal with it. Am I becoming what I hate? Am I becoming a shopper?

I suppose it's possible. I wandered around that place like a pro. I meandered through shops and checked out prices like I was going to buy something, but without any real intention of buying anything. Isn't that what recreational shoppers do? Oh no, please tell me I'm not becoming a recreational shopper! I might as well go stake out a corner of the food court right now if that's what's happening!

No, it's got to be a one off occurrence. I couldn't become a shopper, not at this late date. Don't most shoppers start pretty young, like in their early teens? I'm not practised enough, I'd never make it into the shopper Olympics. Most of the time I can't make it through an hour's trip to pick up groceries.

Maybe it was just something in the air?  A random occurrence that will never happen again. I'll just go back to the way things were before where I'd perform hit-and-run missions on the shops when I needed anything and looked sulky when other people dragged me there. Yep, it's going to be fine.

... oh god, please don't let me be turning into a shopper!