Pink, Purple, Grape or Fushia?

You've probably noticed that life has been getting in the way of blogging recently. Sucks for you and sucks for me, although I have a venerable wealth of blog posts to share...

Including the most recent wedding mishap, the bridesmaids dresses. Oh yes, that's right. With over 300 days to go I thought I'd sorted out one of the bigger tasks, and all for just $81. I was wrong.

So I purchased two really pretty dresses, sight unseen, through Trade Me. All who saw agreed they were what I had been looking for, the right style, fabric, colour, etc. On Wednesday I got home from work and the package was there! So I rushed it down to my bedroom, practically ripping my clothes off at the same time (so I could try one on, duh) and using my teeth to rip open the courier bag.

I look at them. Not quite right...

I make myself decent and jump on the computer, to look up the auction. The title of the auction states "PINK dresses", capitalisation included... the body of the auction states "Colour: Pink".

The only problem is the dresses are purple.

Craig comes home and I show him the dresses. He says purple.

Mum comes round for coffee. She says purple.

They gang up and bully me into growing balls and asking for a refund. Seller says they are pink. I suggest she's mixed them with perhaps a different colour dress? No, she says, I only sell pink or green in that style. She's nice enough to agree to a refund though.

I take them to work, and just in case Craig, Mum and myself are all colourblind due to some mysterious Mosgiel influence, I conduct a survey. A very conclusive 100% purple result.

So the dresses are on the way back... and I'm back on the hunt for some bridesmaids dresses. Bugger it.

Hungry hungry puppy

Ruger has an operation yesterday, they found a third of a tennis ball and a bit of a mess but he's obviously on the mend because he was stealing toys off the puppy at the vet this morning.

Eeyore makes a good point

I've determined the reason behind this week's melancholy. As well as the imminent departure of my fellow booze hag and confidant, my baby Ruger has been sick - sick enough to be sleeping over at the vet. He is going to be fine, and his mystery illness isn't the worry - it is the companionship of both Ruger (and soon Jill) I'm missing. Thank goodness the net exists and I can be all Eeyore to the rest of the world.

Luckily God invented the internet, as otherwise I wouldn't have got this drunken message from my friend in Canada "I am a little bit drunken at the meantime so will read this email tomorrow but what I get from it so far is good. Go Calgary and yagerbombs!!! Arhgggg. I need some bed." That makes me happier.

Friends are helpful. As well as sending happy drunken messages, they perform interventions, they get as drunk as you do so you don't look bad, and they assist you dissecting strange encounters. Amy, fellow bride to be and one third of the three plannateers shed light on a very strange incident for me the other day.

First, the incident.

I pop into the Ladies. As I walk in, I see a reasonably new lady to my work brushing her teeth. I smile politely, nod, and select a cubicle for, for you know. Anyway.

"I've seen you around this floor, you work in Planning?" random teeth brushing lady says

"um" I intone from my abode "…yes I do"

"What's your name? I'm Rose"

"I'm Amanda" I say, voice barely past a whisper. The building has poor acoustics and I don't want people waiting for the lift knowing I'm in the ladies performing some business.

"What?"

"Amanda" I hiss

"Anita?"

"Aaaa MANnnnn DAHhhh"

"Oh. Nice to meet you!"

"Ah, you too" I say, with just a hint of fear in my voice.

Afternoon tea yesterday I relayed this conversation to Amy.

"Is it weird to meet people in the loo?"

"It's weird to nod at them. She might have thought you were, you know"

"Being friendly?"

"Being a lesbian more like"

"I WAS WHAT!"

"Hey at least you've got yourself a blog post."

My friends know me well.

Watch out Michael Phelps

Last night was the last session of swimming lessons. As well as floating and blowing bubbles, I can now roll over and drink in a great deal of pool water. I can also semi-swim from one end of the pool to the other.

Just because it is the learners pool and is only 15m long doesn't make it less of an achievement. Besides, I got a ribbon for being a Gliding Champ. So there.

Caution: Amanda Will Bite

Is it the time of the year or is it the politicians have been doing enough bitching and moaning for all of us? I'm tired, grumpy, and uninspired. Well, uninspired might not be the term. Unmotivated perhaps? I have been gagging to get behind my sewing machine and become productive again. But it hasn't happened. Somehow my sense of humour has gone AWOL. Stupid election.

I've got bills, responsibilities and commitments. When did I become an adult? Stupid being an adult. I told someone to use their indoor voice the other day! I KNOW!

Another adult trait I've picked up is the withering look. It just appeared one day, damning the dorks to submissive surrender.

And finally, I'm not being IDed as much when purchasing a vino (although that maybe because I've purchased alot of it recently).

Tenaciously judicious and examalicious

I have been away from work and blogging, as I have been busy procrastinating from study, studying, and sitting exams. Examinations are never straight forward. Tuesday's exam was no different.

It was my first 200-level exam, and the lecturer hadn't given me any indication as to the format of the exam... thinking this was the norm, I went digging in the University's exam paper archives and printed off all the previous exams available.

I laid them out on my desk and skimmed through them, when I noticed a very unusual thing: they were all exactly the same questions.

An exam is many things - hard, scary, yuck, and tedious, but it is not usually described as "the same".

Without much else to go on, I decided to take a punt and study accordingly.

This method worked well. I went to the exam feeling sick but without injury (see previous exam adventures) and equipped myself with a detailed essay outline.

I look on the door to determine where I have been seated. That's when I discovered my exam was not quite the same as previous years… They'd cut an hour off the time allowed. Uh-oh.

I then proceeded to spill my waterbottle over the exam paper, earning myself the evils from the noisy little old ladies who make a bit of money under the table by making a racket during my exams.

I finished though, and with time to spare. Thank god they'd cut an hour off the exam. I hadn't paid for the whole (originally required) three hours of parking, and I didn't want a ticket. Plus I wanted to get out to Wingatui to stop with the rest of the two nations.

Plus I used the words judicious and tenacious in my eight page essay. I love -cious words.

Dummies

I really feel for the cars that passed us on our way home from work the other day.


I blame it all on my sister.

I'm a geek, I'm a lover

My workmate He who shall not be named, and I are self-confessed geeks.

He who is a bridge-loving-bearded-obvious geek, whilst I am a closet-had-a-few-drinks-and-crank-out-the-binary type geek.

Although we are from different ends of the geekosphere, we share the geek bond, and the incredible ability to drag up incidents from the past and flog them over and over until all humorous facets have been revealed. Not to mention a race to get the exclusive blog posts...

He who is a bit of a mess, whilst I am a neat freak. So I was helping put away some books. He came onto the scene as I was placing "Pearl of the Plain" and "Heart of a City" onto a shelf together.

"What sort of filing system is that?" He who asked.

"Metaphor filing" I replied, sniggering at my geeky awesomeness.

Then He who shall not be named retorted:

"Two metaphors don't make a meta-eight"

Brilliant, and very funny, unless you are a non-geek, then sorry I subjected you to it.

Sign of the times

Over the weekend I noticed some signs. Some funny intentionally, others not. Unfortunately I missed out on getting photos of some of the better ones, but I will forever know Blenheim as the town with a lack of proficient signwriting expertise.

I realised that this is becoming a bit of a hobby of mine, so I've compiled a collection of "The Greatest Signs, Randomised"

I like this one for the double denotation:
If you see the error here, you'll understand why I sniggered. And probably why my tea took so long:

This one is courtesy of Naesby's sports ground. Subtle but creepy:

Here's another from Naesby, at the car show. Let me point out that it was likely this car had only been entered into the carshow for the conveniant parking. The sign was the only remarkable thing about Cedric:

The Eternal Quest for the Tangy Fruit Sticks

I made a decision early in the weekend that was to forever change the course of my trip to Blenheim.

I passed up an opportunity to purchase tangy fruit sticks.

I know! I know!!

So of course, from early Friday on, I craved them.

Every shop we went in to, I pursued my dream. Every shop we went in to, I failed.

I asked at one highly probable candidate, "Do you have tangy fruit sticks?"

The emo girl behind the counter scans below the counter with her sad emo eyes.

Finally she looks up, sadly.

"Um this?" she says, holding up a jar of tangy fruit balls.

I shake my head in disappointment.

"No thank you, I need my tangy fruit in stick form".

We left Blenheim, my hopes and dreams for tangy fruit sticks in tatters.

We stopped in Oamaru for petrol, the very last stop before home. I was parched from my nutritious lunch of a caramel square (Thanks Couplands Timaru) so wandered into the station for a can of liquid tooth decay.

On my way to the till, I stopped.

Fruit. Sticks.

Tangy?

I wasn't taking any chances. I made the purchase.

My hands shook as I opened the packet. I selected a pink stick as the fateful fruit stick, and bit in.

The clouds parted, and the sun shone down on the packet of Tangy fruit sticks! At last!

My life is complete, and my dentist is rich. We all win.

Mummy Mullets part deux

You're about to read a momentous piece of randomamanda.com history today folks. My very first sequel post! The initial post, for those new to the randomness, is here.

Quite honestly, I never expected some good ol' piss-taking of my mother's fashion faux pas was going to generate such interest. Many people (and by many, I mean about four people) have contacted me to sympathise with my misfortune (proposed) mummy mullet, and so I feel it is only fair to share my Mum's hair cut with you.

She rung tonight and casually said "...I went to the hairdressers today".

"What, and got that mullet?"

"Not quite. You'll see it in the morning"

"I want to check it now"

"What, this late?"

"I'll make you a coffee"

"Ok, be round soon"

A tremendous weight was lifted from my shoulders when I discovered Mum had not gone ahead with the mullet, but had actually decided to go with a "Pob" (or "Pod" if you mishear me saying it, aye Mum). Mum shies away from the photographic spotlight but wished to set the record straight and prove her mullet free innocence.

Result:

Wedding invite: Safe.

Just another Blenheim sunrise

I've returned from a short holiday in Blenheim, with many stories and adventures to tell. Stay tuned!

White on!

I cannot believe I've been rambling on for five months without mention of stationery.

One of the great pleasures in my life is when it is time to restock a piece of stationery from the cupboard. There's always so many different varieties to choose from, and the "first use" thrill is like a P high without all the bad bits.

But the one piece of stationery I hold closest to my heart is the humble White out. I prefer my twink to be of the liquid variety - the tape white out lacks personality and the job it does is inadequate. There's also twink pens. They have their place, but their place is not with me.

Did you know liquid twink applicators come with a sponge or a brush tip? I have found the sponge tip to be superior in the short term, but in the long term the brush outruns them all.

Liquid twink was the preferred twink in four out of five people surveyed.

This geekatorial was bought to you by Amanda!

Top 10 ways to tell you've worked in my workplace too long

Top 10 ways to tell you've worked in my workplace too long

00010011. Binary is an in-joke
2. The in-jokes have developed their own in-jokes (the fire pole etc)
3. You consider scheduling some time at home to data cleanse your iTunes library
4. You start making comments like: "It's not like you'll be on your hands and knees for an hour or something" and "What's your performance like?"
5. You start collecting comments like the ones above
6. You use "mitigate" to refer to the weeding
7. In order to ease your mind you have obtained a Certificate of Compliance for the garden shed
8. You've change your home computer font to Verdana 9.5
9. You know the lolly preferences of your team mates
10. You can distinguish PMT and AMP from the AUD, IMU, DWX, EEOs, LUCs and ROWs

and a bonus...

11. The top ten list propogates further in-jokes "you've spelt number 6 wrong" and "you'll be mitigating something at the wedding, hahaha"

Where, where, where is Dibbo?

Our workmate Dibbo is off on holiday for two months. We're at the half way point, but our morale is starting to wane. Before you think I've gone all royal on you, I'm not talking in the third person. I'm talking about the team here at work.

As well as being our font of all rock knowledge and an authority on colour schemes and design, she's responsible for the ecologicaliciousness of Dunedin. So we shouldn't be terribly surprised that the house plants on her desk are taking back the computer equipment:



I'm checking Dibz's emails, to save her from having a thousand emails to wade through, and I'd like to say I'm very impressed by the high standard of joke emails she receives.

So in conclusion, Dibbo-dear, can you give your opinion on the proposed colour scheme for the wedding here, (I think the greeny green is too green - it can go without, possibly).

P.S. The funding came through, did you get my text?

P.P.S. He who shall not be named wanted tio excite you with "DOC is looking to hold an Otago Bio-D forum"