Okay, so the terrier was diagnosed with congestive heart failure etc in June last year. She hasn’t been herself the last couple of days, has had a lot less energy etc. Then she stopped wanting to eat. She has cough medicine daily to stop her enlarged heart making her cough. But it’s horrible stuff, it’s bright red and sweet smelling and it had to be mixed with her food because she just would not deal with it any other way. Then she just wouldn’t eat anything with it in it. She could smell it. So I, in my infinite wisdom, suggested that maybe it would be kinder to try to squirt some of her cough medicine straight in and then she could eat, so it would all be over quickly. Obviously, it didn’t work that way and she wouldn’t look at my mum in the eye for like two days. We tried giving her the medicine in mince. Now she won’t touch mince. At all.

I have had a cough for the past fortnight and totally understand the cough medicine problem for the first time. Zomg.

Then she stopped wanting to eat even when there was no cough medicine in her food. We had to take her to her specialist around now anyway, so we took her in to get her bloodtests etc. We mentioned to her doctor that she wasn’t wanting to eat. He didn’t seem all that interested. It was a bit annoying because he didn’t seem very interested in any of it, didn’t sound committal about anything and didn’t really touch her at all except to carry her out to her blood test. The report he sent to the vet was more positive, but apparently she has higher levels of something in her liver or kidney and that could be a problem down the track, but it wasn’t a big concern.He also described her decision not to eat as ’self-limiting anorexia’. Which made me aww. But probably isn’t necessarily aww-worthy.

That was last Wednesday (29th). Then she was on and off food – she’d go like two days without food and then start nomming on something random. But then she started to get an upset stomach. We took her to her normal doctor on Monday and they said that there was a bad canine gastro going around and that could be it. We were kind of hopeful but not sure whether to feel hopeful or not (last time, it ‘could have been kennel cough’ rather than heart failure). We got some antibiotics and some Buscopan and they said that if the upset stomach continues for another two days or so, it could be her liver and we should get an ultrasound done. Now, getting an ultrasound done is not about the money. It’s a couple of hundred, but she’s the terrier, so it’s not even a thought. She gets a ridiculous amount of medication each month anyway. Last time she had an ultrasound was when she was diagnosed. She was so sick that she didn’t need to be sedated which is ridiculously unusual. With her heart, she can’t really be sedated, but she would stress so much being held down on her back to get the ultrasound done.

So, as of yesterday, she still had an upset stomach. She has been eating a little bit more every now and then. Usually only when we’re eating the same thing. Typical, but I’ll take what I can get . She shared a chicken breast with my mum the other night, then wouldn’t touch chicken for a while. Then last night, I offered her some chop. She wanted my chop. So we cooked her one of her own and she had a bit, but then possibly realised that it wasn’t mine and then didn’t want it. Wouldn’t eat breakfast this morning. Sat in the kitchen wanting something, but refusing everything I offered. Then I woke her up around lunchtime and offered her some turkey that I was having for lunch. Apparently she loves turkey. Who knew. So she ate a fair bit of my lunch. Offered her pumpkin after hearing that pumpkin is recommended. It seems that we hate pumpkin as much as we love turkey. I offered her some and it was like I slit her throat. She was actually offended. So, no more pumpkin.

I had my hopes raised when she started eating a little bit a couple of days ago, but then she still had a yucky tummy. She hasn’t been today. I’m really really hoping that her tummy is okay. Because I really don’t want anything wrong with her kidney or liver. The vet said that upset tummies (and the result) are only really evident in end-stage kidney or liver problems. But she still eats on and off. She isn’t unhappy. Except when offered pumpkin. I can’t remember which organ, but neither had the high levels that would be expected in a dog with those problems. She doesn’t indicate pain when we feel around the bottom of her ribs. She’s not throwing up. We got the vet to write out a list of symptoms we should look out for – she shows some of them, but they’re the ones associated with her diuretics side effects.

Of course, we know there’s a fine balance between her comfort and not giving up. We don’t want her to suffer. She gets tired more easily, but she is 13. The other day she couldn’t walk the whole way up the street, but two days later she went on a marathon walk. She normally runs (enthusiastic little mite), but never this far. She was a full on champion.

But what if this lethargy and non-eating is the beginning of the end? What if we’re not seeing the problem for what it is? What if this is another one of those ‘it could just be kennel cough, let’s give her some antibiotics’ things? This morning my mum was ready to ring the vet to take her down tomorrow to see his verdict. Then the terrier didn’t run to the toilet and she ate the turkey.

But what if the doctor says that she needs the ultrasound? She has a terminal heart condition and I don’t think that putting her through that would help her. But what if there’s something that can be easily fixed? And what if she recovers from her non-eating? Or what if she’s just not hungry for what we’re offering her? So many questions.

And so many emotions. Every now and again, I’ll see this fleeting look in her eyes and I’ll know she’s not well at that moment. And it’ll get me right in the heart. I’ll get the sinking feeling that she’s not going to get better. And then I just feel numb. Then she will walk around a bit and wag her tail. Then she’ll drink. Then she’ll eat. Hopes rising. Then she’ll refuse to eat. Hopes fading. Then she’ll get excited when my mum comes home. Hopes rising. Then the next day she won’t get excited. Hopes fading. Then she will want a treat. Then she’ll get shown a bunch and won’t want any of them. Then she may get a treat and run around barking for it. Then she’ll nom it straight down. Or she’ll take it away and start nomming and then bark at it when she’s eaten a bit and then won’t want to eat it. Or she may just not want it at all.

She ate turkey today so mum’s gone out to buy turkey for her for dinner. So I guess we’re having turkey for dinner. I hope she eats it.

I’m just swinging between this hope every time she eats or gets excited to this crushing despair every time she refuses to eat or has a yucky tummy. I’m like a freaking emotional yoyo. And it’s not charming me. I’m so highly strung, I almost cut my finger off this morning when I was trying to cut something out. Which would have annoyed me even more.

Terrier has just woken up for this afternoon and is snorting angrily under the garage door waiting for my mum to come home. Fingers crossed.

Godspeed, little terrier.

I’ve never had a particularly good relationship with birds. I think I talked about this when I talked about wanting to hold a chicken. I remember that a pigeon jumped (/flew/pigeon ambushed) out at me from behind a pole in the undercroft when I was in Year 2. Not a fan of the pigeons. And then last year at uni, I got swooped by one of those yellow beaks. Because it CLICKED IN MY EAR.

But my family has this obsession with magpies and, to a lesser extent now, butcherbirds. Of course, this is disregarding the fact that we have two domestic birds. We used to be able to leave them outside until a) the butcherbird decided canary may be a yummier option than whatever my grandma was feeding it otherwise and b) someone’s stupid fat orange cat would leap up and would be on the cage before we could even react. It’s not that we didn’t watch them. But they needed sun and would fan their little feathers out and standing in the sun is a bit of a pain. Particularly for someone as Cullen white as myself. Have I mentioned that I’m reading Twilight? I’m persevering. I’m like four chapters in.

Anyway, birds can’t go outside anymore.

Butcherbirds don’t come ’round anymore.

We haven’t had much to do with magpies over the last year or so, but now they’re back. And they recognise our car. And they recognise my mum when she walks the terrier. And they recognise the terrier because they don’t swoop her when she runs at them  Not kidding. They walk through the middle of a park filled with trees and other people around them are getting swooped, but the birds don’t go near them. No ice cream containers needed. And the magpies constantly want food. And they’re eating our mince. The terrier is filled with self-righteous indignation. That’s our premium mince, btw.

There are two magpies that frequent us now. I have been informed that one is a mother and the fat one is the younger one. They don’t have names, but I have heard the fat one called ‘the dumb one’. Hot. For the purpose of differentiation, the mother is not backward in coming forward. The other one recognises and respects boundaries.

Some background. When I’m in the living room, we tend to leave the door open a terrier-width so the terrier can go in and out without making me get up. Over the period of about a week, this magpie started running up to the door and hopping up onto a basket that we have just outside the door. I am sitting at my lounge and then I hear this huge flurry of wings and then it’s just outside the door at eye level. LOOKING AT ME. I’m like a metre from the open door.

As if that isn’t traumatic enough, it then progressed to hopping onto the raised brick just outside the door (how sliding doors are raised from a patio) and looking in. THEN, the next day or so, it moved to STANDING ON THE RUNNERS OF THE SLIDING DOOR.

Before I continue, reacquaint yourself with how sharp and pointy their beaks are.

Then yesterday, before work, I was sitting at the table and then I heard this click sound. The terrier tends to trip over the runner of the sliding door when she comes in, so I’m used to that sound. Then I heard the familiar sound of a flurry of wings of satan. Then another click.

HOLY CRAP. THE MAGPIE IS SITTING ON THE SIDE OF MY LOUNGE. ON A BOOK. LOOKING AT ME.

Try explaining that one in panic. So mum is moving towards it to get it out. I’m yelling at her to watch her eyes and then I’m holding the terrier by a mix of her ears and her jumper (all the while trying to cover her eyes with my hands). Yeah, I have a thing about magpies and eyes, right.

Because I’m head down (to avoid making eye contact with magpie and resultant loss of eye), all I can hear is this huge flapping sound moving closer to the table and into the centre of the house. IT WAS FLYING ABOVE ME. INDOORS. That is not meant to happen. The terrier found it all very exciting. I, however, did not.

Somehow, mum shepherded the magpie out through the door which was now open the entire way (rather than the, oh, 20cm that it was open before).

Now, there is door paranoia. I can’t look at the bird. I keep looking at the book on the side of the lounge where it stood. Which, funnily enough, is ‘Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close’ by Jonathon Safran Foer.

Extremely loud and incredibly close indeed.

May I add that this has happened before. At our previous house. With a butcherbird. My family has to stop this before I have serious issues that can only be solved by psychologists etc. Seriously.

So, it has been a while guys. I was thinking of scrapping all the old posts and starting from scratch, but then I’d have to remove each one individually and I’m really far too lazy for that.

What have I been up to lately?

Well, I got my learners licence. Finally. Yes, my photo is dodgy. Which is a shame because I normally have pretty decent ID photos – better than general photos anyway. But there’s a clump of hair doing something weird behind my right ear and I leant forward to hear what the guy was saying and he took it then. Thanks for the double chin.

Now I’m on the search for a car. Easier said than done, really. I’m looking for something automatic, around $6000, that is clean inside and doesn’t have too many kilometres. I freaked when I read that automatic transmissions have a general 130-150k lifespan before they need to be replaced. The vast majority of cars out there are 130+.

I’ve found some great cars. But they’re all manuals. And I’m nervy enough about learning to drive without extra things to think about. And what is it with the boy response of jeering about getting an automatic.

We went and had a look at this black 1992 Barina that was well within my price range (and, considering the year, so should it be, but there aren’t many old ones around). It was a bit scratched up, but nothing that probably couldn’t be buffed out. Except the front panel above the wheel where the husband had decided to spraypaint over a scratch. Yes, spraypaint. Yes, it was dull and had drips. But I could forgive that, kind of. Well, they would’ve been reducing their price significantly, but I would have still considered it. We took it for a test-drive and it was kind of loud and my mum kept saying how heavy the steering was, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what the problem was. I guessed it might have been before power steering was standard. But then I got behind the wheel. And drove around a cul de sac. There was some guy in a council truck that was parked on the side of the road and kept starting to move and stopping and damn it was annoying. Then he watched me try to start the stupid thing moving. Stress – stop watching me with your fluoro vest. I don’t seem to be so good at doing any kind of controlled movement, but at least my accelerating and braking work (possibly too well). Having earnt the nickname ‘leadfoot’, I almost mounted the curb. I honestly didn’t realise that you could turn the wheel around more than once. And that you had to turn it back the same amount of turns. That’s where we almost met the curb. On the plus side, I can drive okay in a straight line. On an empty road. And I can pull over to the side of the road. Just as long as I don’t have to use the indicator.

Once we got back home and I realised that it was, in fact, supposed to have power steering, mum kindly informed me that the power steering must have died. So unfortunately, the first private sale one wasn’t so great.

We’d gone to a couple of dealerships a couple of weekends before. We went to one that had such a friendly, non-pushy salesman that I decided that I definitely wanted to buy from him. Unfortunately, they specialise in late models. And I’m really looking pre-2005 because I don’t want to spend a buttload on something that I could very easily damage when I’m learning. But I don’t want an ugly car. Priorities.

Then we went to another one that was oh-so-typical car salesman. Yeah, nothx. I gather their reputation is well earned.

Then last weekend we went around to a bunch of dealerships all over the place. Starting at Kedron. I shouldn’t have done my research about how much cars are worth because I kept scoffing at their prices. And there was one caryard that we went into and they had a Mitsubishi Mirage – early 90s, I think – that they’d just gotten in and had a huge scratch down the side but it was going to be sent to the detailers the next day. It was low kilometres – maybe 70 000 – but it was an old car. The guy came over and started talking to us – almost all the car salesman I’ve met have completely changed my idea of car salesmen – and when we asked around how much it would be, I kid you not, the answer was $10, 000. For a car in its late teens. Not really the kind of car I was looking at, but I found a similar one interstate for less than half that. Is it just me, or is Brisbane so much more expensive than NSW or VIC? Also, all the good cars in ‘Brisbane’ definitely seem to be down the coast.

Found three car dealers that I’m definitely going to keep my eye on. One is quite overpriced, but they sell good quality cars,they get a lot of stock and the guy was so straightforward and honest about his advice. The other said they specialise in cars between around $5-8k, but it’s just a matter of actually finding the stock for the yard. I found a couple I liked there, but most were manual and the one I liked was a late model ($9,999). The last one is the loveliest, most genuine little caryard that I had recommended to me by a participant at work. I saw the perfect car there at a fantastic price. But of course it was manual. But the owner  took my number and wrote that I wanted a little automatic car between $4-6k and said he would contact me when he got new stock in. True to his word, he phoned mid-week with a car that he was going to be getting in, no pressure, but check it out online and see if I like the look of it. I didn’t, it was a fair bit bigger than I had hoped, but I loved that he actually followed up. I would love to buy from him – his cars are definitely priced right.

Probably 2/3 of the cars I’ve found in the caryards I’ve looked through have been manual. Bah. And so many cars in the Cars Guide in the Courier Mail don’t list their transmission which almost guarantees that they are manual. We contacted two people from last week’s – one ended up being north of Cairns (and manual) and one was manual and then had a bit of a jab at me because I wanted an automatic. Yeah, stupidface, that’s a way to sell a car.

So, my adventures continue. And I’ll be sure to update about my car hunting and my driving (in) ability.

Cross your fingers for a registered, roadworthy automatic under $6500 with reasonable kilometres (within Brisbane) that is a Barina, Getz, Echo, Starlet or Alto (or similar; preferably black) for me .

I’ve always wanted to go on a farm stay. I can’t say anyone else I know has the same desire. But I want to milk a cow, ride a horse, collect eggs and hold a chicken.

After yesterday’s drama llama session, I need to focus on smaller goals. Like holding chickens. Not Masters or Doctorate. Chickens don’t have these issues. Or if they do, they keep them to themselves. Pretty much everyone likes chickens.

I was on a farm a couple of times when I was little, but I wasn’t allowed to touch anything because there might have been mice. This probably contributed to my not wanting to touch stuff and fear of mice wee. And general low-grade OCD. You know it’s hot.

Anyway, I thought you should know that.

So, this is the kind of comment that gets people kicked from the sisterhood. But here it comes. It’ll be the third time in three days that I’ve wished that I’d been brought up in a time where people just didn’t have a choice in what they did. Hell, even a generation ago, people didn’t have all that much choice. Monumental decisions about what you do forever are  just not what I’m made for.

I wish I was given the options of being a teacher, a secretary or a homemaker. I’m crap at domestic things and working as a secretary seems, largely, soul-destroying. Choice would be easy.

I have two options very much open to me. One of which I would be doing because I want to. Not because it would do anything for a career. I just want to do it. But three years seems a long time to spend on something just because you want to do it. I’ve wasted one year now, so I would hate to waste another three. The other option would change everything in the course of a year. I don’t like change. But it would be the option I would be choosing after completing the first option. The problem is that I had just always assumed I would be going with the first option. Even if I’m not cut out for the aftermath of the first option.

So, in short, choices suck.

Well, Sonya over at Australian Fatshion happened to tweet about a fantastic dress and I happened to click the link and fall in love and then become crushed that I had absolutely no justification to pay US$99 for a dress (plus ModCloth’s ’spensive postage). Then I started to tweet about Peter Andre and how much I despise Justice Crew on Australia’s Got Talent (and they’re going to win and I’m going to get cranky).

To keep my mind off the angst that Justice Crew winning will inevitably create, I thought I’d show you some other dresses that I absolutely love. And that I probably need. I’ve culled them. You should maybe buy me one.

Beach Picnic Dress in Afternoon – $99.99

I love this dress. A little bit tea party, a little bit safari. Let’s face it – I like anything with a cinched waist.

Grecian Green Dress – $89.99

Just love. Colours, style etc. It would totally match my hair too.

Middleburg Dress in Vineyard Tour – $149.99

I wish I  had the legs to wear this. And that my hair wasn’t vibrantly red at the moment. But, really, if I had the legs to wear this, hair colour be damned.

Baba-Blue Dress – $99.99

It looks a little bit school uniform, but I think it could work. Plus, my school uniform was green, so it’s not really my problem. I wish my school uniform had looked like this. My school uniform consistently remained two or three sizes too big because a) we thought I was going to grow more and b) I got uppity about things being too close and went through an oversized stage. That is probably what has led to my aversion to all things oversized.

.Picnic in Paradise (Navy) – $84.99

I love this. But am nore quite sure how to feel about the shoulders. Are they straps? They look roughly the same colour as my skin, so that could be awkward. But I think it would work.

Most Memorable Dress – $164.99

Love this. I should have worn this as my graduation dress. I love that it’s simple and looks so flattering. And would make my shoulders look more balanced.

Sitting Room Dress – $189.99

I want knee high patent white platform boots to go with this. And some kind of beehive. Of course, I’m too pale and my hair doesn’t do anything remotely cooperative, so my dreams of wearing the Sitting Room dress are dashed.

Breezewood Dress – $87.99

Yes, this goes against my no-oversized-items rule, but there’s just something about it.

E=M Sea Squared – $52.99

This has enormous potential to be unflattering, but it is also so much awesome.

Maven of Majorca Dress – $194.99

I want this. I have nowhere to wear it. At all. But I think I should make some occasion. And have appropriately styled hair.

Elegant Ethologist Dress – $49.99

I don’t know why I like this. Not my normal style at all. But there’s something about it.

And now, my three absolute favourites.

Cookies and Cream Dress – $73.99

Wow. I’ve been chasing a shirt something like this, so to extend it to a dress is infinitely awesome. It’s like they thought of me when they designed this. They should have called it the Elle. And then sent me one.

The Casserole Queen Dress – $54.99

Or they could have called this one the Elle. I’m not fussy. If they had sent me one of these, I would be pretty chuffed. I love this so much that I think my heart stopped. I should never browse on ModCloth.

Save the Date Dress – $99.99

And this one? This one is Sonya’s fault. This is the one that started the window shopping.

Well, Justice Crew has now won. And I’ve now managed to make my lip bleed. Seems like the dresses didn’t help after all..

I swear, I am being such a freaking sook about this toe. And I’m driving everyone mad in the process.

Can’t wait until stocktake previews tomorrow night. I’m crossing my fingers that David Jones will have Peter Alexander on discount.

I’m considering buying two things, but if you know me, you’ll know I’m endlessly stingy. And these are such awesome prices too.

I’m looking at ‘1000 places to see in USA and Canada before you die’. It’s all of $16. I was all set to buy it and then my mum’s like, why are you getting that? And the answers ‘whim’ and ‘I’ll end up there one day’ didn’t seem to fly. So I shut my browser and several days later, it’s still sitting in my cart. The other one is the first five seasons of House. $90. Seriously. Including postage. Just shut up and buy them, Elle.

Seeking encouragement and validation?

So, I fell down the stairs when I got to work this morning.

I don’t know if it’s plain lack of coordination or the fact that the concrete stairs are a bit uneven, but I took a step and my ankle tilted and gave way and then I landed on my knees on the next step, then travelled to the next two steps (on my knees). Before moving to the next comment, you should know that I have this paranoia about toenails because I once lost my toenail in traumatic circumstances (read Year 11 retreat) and have had this fear of anything happening to them ever since. Actually, nails in general. And teeth. But that’s not the point.

On my graceful journey, I smacked my toenail (just that one, typical) and it is now so so sore and still stinging almost an hour afterwards. And it is swollen and purple. Which doesn’t fill me with any kind of joy. I managed to, somehow, cut the side of my foot through my closed in shoe (told you I was talented), that ankle is getting tender and my knee has a charming purple tinge now, but I’m most concerned about the nail.

I think I have to go to the health centre now and report it. That I fell down the stairs. Because I’m classy like that. And I’ve been told I have to.

Actually, did I mention that I work in a school? And the stairs are directly in front of the library windows? AWESOME.

Edit: And an update? Bruised both knees, swollen ankle and I’m going to lose the toenail. FFS. Could I not have just broken my kneecap or something?

So we went to Sizzler this afternoon. I admit that I must be one of the few people I know who love Sizzler. Basically because I used to have amazing stamina for eating. Then one day I went to a seafood buffet in Sydney (awesome, btw) and got weird heart palpitations and I haven’t been able to be a pig since. Gosh, don’t I sound the picture of health? Uh, I should justify myself. Apparently it was something that is within prawns that I ate too much of. I ate the same amount as other people, but just didn’t deal with it well. Have I justified myself?

Anyway, Sizzler. I don’t trust the prawns there. I keep wanting to trust them. Because they have garlic prawn Caesar salad. The prawns don’t taste like garlic and the texture is wrong. So I tried it but couldn’t eat it. I have a fear of bad prawns. And bad seafood. And bad chicken. I seem to have a lot of irrational food fears. I digress. I make myself sound totally bogan but my very very favourite Sizzler option is the seafood salad (ie, seafood extender). I love seafood extender. I don’t know what it’s made of. But I love Subway ’seafood’ subs and seafood sticks. And seafood extender.

Also. I believe I was totally judged by one of the Sizzler staff when I walked back to my table with my plate heaped high. In fairness, the lettuce wasn’t helping the height. But I averted my eyes and scurried past. I may or may not have been judged also when I tried to use the ice cream machine and managed to get it very messily in my plate – and my hand. I don’t have a great relationship with self-serve machines. Soft serve machines splatter and ice machines explode outwards. Once, in Subway, I went to get my ice and pressed their stupid PRESS ice thing and somehow it made this huge noise and it spat them everywhere but the centrally placed cup and all over the floor and everyone turned to look at me as if I broke the machine. I think I was with my mum and she was all ‘errr, special child’ and then she went to get ice and the machine wouldn’t work. So, in conclusion, I was right but the machine was not usable.

I thought I should take a picture of the plates we managed to get through between the two of us (+1 more dessert bowl):

The world needs more cheese toast.

Yes, I am judging myself right now too..

So. I watch Days of Our Lives. I’ve been watching is since I handed in my thesis back in October. First, it was a show that I could watch without thinking. Because thinking was the last thing I wanted to do after that. What I actually wanted was some form of holiday or some form of movie marathon with blankets and ice cream. And since neither was a goer, it was trashy daytime TV. But the problem is that now, I don’t even move to change the channel because I want to see what is happening. And WORSE, I now have FAVOURITE CHARACTERS. It’s a disaster.

There has got to be an easier way of transferring apps from one computer to another. Because apparently they didn’t transfer from my old computer and iTunes account to my new computer. And when I want to load new apps onto my ipod, it tells me it’ll have to wipe the other apps to get the new ones on. So, from what I can gather, I have to download each one again. And the computer is being SO. SLOW. Whinge etc.

I have done nothing of value today. I couldn’t bother to get lunch until just after two and even then I managed to burn a hole in the gladwrap the size of the top of the cup. And, as a result, my pumpkin soup had some hard little bits of gladwrap in it. So that’s what Shrinkies taste like. Another tragedy.

I am horrible at updating. I want to update, but I just draw blanks at topics. My life isn’t very interesting – Exhibit A: Fingerless gloves. But really, when you think about it, the fingerless gloves are pretty damn awesome.

I went back to uni work for the first time in about a month yesterday. It was supposed to be pouring all day so I couldn’t wear what I wanted to wear which was super annoying because I’d had it all planned out. Granted with the pair of shoes that always gives me horrible blisters – seriously, what is it with blisters? Any pair of heels will give me blisters. The Hush Puppies that I have (they’re patent red mary janes and my alltime favourite) always give me blisters – I have no idea why. Then I thought that if I put the inserts at the end of my shoe, it would stop my foot going forward, but then it pushes my foot upwards. So very annoying. Does anyone else actually have this problem? I would just like to buy a pair of shoes that I can wear. Although funnily enough, Target seems to be the only place that I can buy shoes and just wear them. But blisters and feet are yuck. You don’t want to read about that.

Oh, here’s something. Since SCHWARZKOPF discontinued my hair colour (GUTTED) and within two days, there was nothing left on the shelves (oh come on, if it was an unpopular item, how did the whole shelf of them sell in two days), I started looking around for another semi that would make my hair look fake red. Do you know how incredibly difficult it is to find a semi that isn’t brown? So, thankyou, Schwarzkopf for discontinuing the only decent looking fake red (Forever Red). I bought the one that they said was closest (Red Embers) and it’s not close. Yeah, sure, it’s red, but that’s really where the similarity ends. And it still has those creepy incestuous twins on the front. BTW, halving the size and the number of washes, grr. The other colour is still holding pretty well but that just makes me crankier. Does anyone know where you can still get the oldstyle Live Intense colour in the pink boxes?

So anyway, I go into Hairhouse Warehouse and look at the Fudge Paintbox which looks like the colour that I want – they only have the one red though. Cue approach by girl with baby pink lipgloss who tells me that it’s not for use on your whole head and didn’t want me to buy it and says it pretty much never comes out. She tries to convince me that their brand of semi is better (and like twice the price, kthx). When we finally got away, I headed to Price Attack. Hello awesome. So much more helpful. Girl in there had the best coloured hair but it was done in their salon with a couple of colours overlapping to make the colour. I don’t want to commit to a colour and I don’t want to deal with regrowth. I have this fear of regrowth. Anyway, they had the full three colours and she said she’d used them before, but they wash out pretty quickly. Then she said I might want to try some other brand first because it’s a similar colour to what I already had in my hair. So I’ll probably go try that – super cheap at $17 for two uses. But I need to get my hair cut. It’s too long. I’ve been saying it’s too long since February. I hate it when hair (and nails!) feels too long.

I’ve managed to make an essay out of not knowing what I was going to post about. Aren’t I a champ? Uh.

It’s like four months now (but who’s counting?) until PhD applications are due in. So I’m starting planning. I think. I have three broad topics floating around in my mind. My main one – I love the idea but don’t know if it’ll go anywhere. The second one came from reading through supervisors’ research interests and finding one that worked for me that was only a step removed from mine. It’s all developmental – but one is more ed/dev and the other is more health based. And you know how my mind loves to stress over not knowing what I’m doing (lolz?).

I will think of something interesting to post about. Or, in case I draw a blank, how about you suggest something for me to be interesting about? Sounds good, yes?

Yes, it has been a while. Because I’m lazy. And I managed to pull a muscle in my back while I was doing absolutely nothing. I was eating dinner and then I couldn’t stand up. Well, my lack of blogging may not have been solely due to the pulled muscle. Or at all. But I thought you should know that I’ve spent a good portion of the past three or four days with a heatpack on my shoulderblade to try to stop the pain radiating across my entire torso and down my right arm. Naturally, those familiar with my hypochrondiac tendencies would have spotted the connection between the arm and the torso pain and that made me chip my nailpolish. Annoying. Now it’s mostly my right arm, so blogging time, kiddies.

I’m totally horrendously boring lately. I haven’t been in to work to do my RA stuff for weeks because we have no participants. I’ve been working from home a bit, mostly ethics, so not much exciting. I’ve been up at my other work for extra hours this week. But no one wants to hear about what I do.

Hmmm, I’m searching my brain for something exciting. OH! This is exciting for me, but probably not for anyone else. I’ve been looking for leather fingerless gloves for ages. There were some at Sportsgirl, but they were too big. I always thought I had fairly big hands, but people had said they’re small. Anyway, gloves. I could only find knitted ones. I was starting to give up. Light was fading etc. Then I went to Dotti at DFO yesterday. They had 50% off storewide. And a cardboard box full of FINGERLESS GLOVES. And a leather pair (well, goatskin..maah). And they fit. And they were super awesome. And they were $5. Then I got a pair of knitted blue ones that transform into mittens – YES I have TRANSFORMER mittens. They have a flap that goes over your fingers that flips back onto to the top of your  hand and there’s a button to hold it there. Granted, no one else shares my excitement at my awesome fingerless gloves haul. Gloves ftw.

Also, the red semi worked out. Actually worked out to be the colour that I wanted. On the basis of that, Schwarzkopf have now discontinued the colour as of this week and I can no longer buy it anywhere. Super. Now, the only semi colours available are an eight wash version by Schwarzkopf (as Priceline tells me, they have redirected the other 15 wash ones into ‘more colours’ in the 8 wash ones – I have to comment on the boxes…) and some other one that only comes in browns and natural colours. I don’t want my hair to look natural.

THE BOXES. They’re the standard Schwarzkopf Live ones. But they used to have just the one model on the front. NOW they’ve got a male and female model on the front half kissing and they LOOK LIKE BROTHER AND SISTER. They have the same  hair colour and it seems vaguely incestuous to me. So, on that basis, I still couldn’t buy Red Embers. Not to mention that they’ve halved the washes. Nothx, Schwarzkopf, thanks for being an ahole.

To end this essay, I’m deliberating between using a red permanent or going back to blonde. I’ve only had the red hair for a week or so, but I’m missing blonde. But my hair isn’t the right colour anymore. And I’ve had compliments on the red hair. And people say it suits me and gives me more colour. I found a great colour, but the jump to permanent is scary for red. I don’t feel  like I can wear all my clothes with such bright hair. The photos of the current red are still on my mum’s camera, so I’ll get her to send them to me at some point and I’ll post them up. Because you’re clearly keen to see the colour. I guess I’ll ask for opinions when I put them up. And, I mean, what do you even do with lighter blonde regrowth coming through from red hair?

So, in the wake of the stupid ash blonde not working, I’ve decided that if my hair is going to insist on getting all gold and reddish, it can just shut up and go fully red. Why do it by halves?

The idea of permanent red is a bit daunting. Considering the Loreal debacle from two weeks ago. So I just got a 15 wash rinse. My only concern is that I do still have blonde streaks that I’ve been too lazy to get redone – they’re still there from December. So, tomorrow, we’re going with the charmingly titled ‘Forever Red’ from…someone. Garnier, I think.

I still mean to post pictures of the other one I did…but I can’t find my camera USB thing. Yes, I just got the camera in December. I’ve used the USB thing once and have no idea where it is. And no one I ask in my house seems to know.

Do you know where my USB camera thing is?

And another thing…

Loreal Excellence Creme 9.1 Light Ash Blonde. You didn’t work.

I don’t know if I’ve already mentioned it, but my hair matched the lightest indicator on the side of the box very closely. And my hair turned out nothing like that. My hair went darker. And purple-grey in places, but that’s not the concern. So, yeah, the colour didn’t work.

That was last Saturday.

As of this Saturday, it has thrown the colour. The gold tones in my hair are clearly visible. Where did the permanent dye go? Is it not supposed to grow out? If it cover grey, shouldn’t it actually stay in? It has clung to the streaks in my hair, but I would have expected it to last longer.

So I’m channeling my inner cranky old woman and writing them a letter requesting a refund. It doesn’t do what it says or what I was led to believe. Would you believe I can’t find a postal address for Loreal Australia? An email is far easier to ignore, but I’ll send it off hoping it’ll do something.

I’m pretty much back to square one, so I’m going to streak it next weekend.

It’s one of those days where a bunch of factors just conspire to make you feel low. I mean, the rainy day and spending at least until midday in my bed watching TV seems like a moodbooster, but I’m still feeling a bit…dejected?

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Those of you who read my last blog would know that I was very unsure about taking the year off uni. Yeah, I want to do a PhD. And, yeah, that plays a lot on my mind. If I can’t think of a definite topic, it seems like a completely wasted year and what will I do then? As an update, I took the year off because a) I couldn’t think of a definite topic and b) I don’t think I’d get a scholarship on a 2A with no research experience or publications.

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Now, here’s the kicker. My terrier was diagnosed with heart failure in June last year. She was given six to twelve months, but probably six months. Ten months on, she’s so much more herself than she has been and the vet is surprised at how healthy she is. Considering. Yes, she is on a bunch of medication everyday, but this is beyond what we could have hoped for. She had a ‘doctors appointment’ in March and he said that he was not hopeful giving her six months at first and that we should be visiting on a monthly basis, but now he’d like to see her in six months time.

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The hard part is that the terrier is my absolute heart. I’m one of those owners and she’s like a child or a sister to me. But I need a break. I finished Honours at the end of last year and most people went away or overseas. I’m a terrible traveller, I almost break my Mum’s hand at takeoff. But it’s not only that, we love to travel together. But I/we couldn’t go away because of the terrier.

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Of course I understand that we can’t go overseas and I wouldn’t ever suggest it. We have said that we’ll go overseas when the terrier isn’t here. That’s not a concern.

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I think our longest holiday was three days – three nights is about all the terrier can deal with. But a short break is totally fine. I just need to get out of this house. Jetstar is running their ‘take a friend for free’ promotion again. Meaning we could travel to Sydney for $59. $118 return. For the two of us. Or to Melbourne for $99. $198 return. For the two of us.

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Also, we have a $60 voucher for accommodation with Accor (expiring September this year). I just want one night away. And $120 return for two people to Sydney is crying out for a night away. My grandma, who lives with us, maintains that the terrier could not survive a night away from us. Are you kidding? This just makes me so angry. She would need to give her dinner and four clearly labeled tablets in the course of that time. And it would shut me up for another year. Her response: Next year.

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I just get this burning feeling in my chest when I think about it. And I feel very conflicted as well…of course I want the terrier here. It’s going to rip my heart out when she’s not here (I don’t think I’ve eaten a full burger since she discovered that a portion of the meat patty could be broken up and given to her. Also yoghurt). But for the moment, she’s better than we could ever have expected. It sounds callous but why do we have to put our lives on complete hold because of it? Just one night. Even in Brisbane. But the answer is always the same.

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The thing that makes me a bit panicky is that if all goes to plan, I will start my PhD next year. And there’s only so much leave you can take each year. I planned on travelling this year. But if I don’t, this year is technically a waste. I’ll be 24 when I start the PhD. Which will mean that I’ll be 27-ish when I finish. That’s still young but it seems like…I don’t know. Maybe I’m just in a super sooky mood…

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And my ear has been hurting on and off for weeks.

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The terrier has just come up to sit on the bed with me, so I’ll stare at her pretty face for a while and chant that I don’t need a holiday. If I say it enough, it might be true, right?

I’m a bit lazy so haven’t really got through what I had planned to. I’m iTunesing as we speak. I watched a couple of episodes of 30 Rock. I looked over the ethics and scheduled an appointment with my supervisor. But I’ve got 14 pages of manuscript to rewrite in a day. Which doesn’t thrill me because it seems so badly written.

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So while By the Way is transferring to my computer (btw, I had been looking for that CD for years, actual years, and was going to buy a new copy this week), I thought I would share with you some of my awesome taste in music. I found these CDs in a side cupboard and therefore am ‘pleasantly’ surprised by the gems I have found. For the time being, I will allow you to bask in the awesome that is FM No 1 Radio Hits (picked up at a market):

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CD1

Perfect – Fairground Attraction
Addicted to love – Robert Palmer
La bamba – Los Lobos
When the going gets tough – Billy Ocean
We built this city -  Starship
One night in Bangkok – Murray Head
Shout – Tears for Fears
I should’ve known better – Jim Diamond
We don’t need another hero – Tina Turner
Rain – Dragon
Cry – Lisa Edwards
Teardrops – Womack & Womack
Achy breaky heart – Billy Ray Cyrus
The Grease Megamix – ONJ & Travolta
Beatles Medley – Stars on 45

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CD2

Humpin around – Bobby Brown
Without you – Girlfriend
Bust a move – Young MC
Read my lips – Melissa
She drives me crazy – Fine Young Cannibals
Never gonna give you up – Rick Astley
Get out of my dreams – Billy Ocean
State of the heart – Mondo Rock
I wanna wake up with you – Boris Gariner
Venus – Bananarama
I can feel it – Radio Freedom
Micky – Toni Basil
Let’s talk about sex – Salt n Pepa
Feels like I’m in love – Kelly Marie
Save the best for last – Vanessa Williams

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Overwhelmed? There’s plenty more where that came from. Oh yes.

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I’ve got to get away from the TV. I can’t deal with hearing Justin Bieber singing any more. I mean, he seems like a nice kid, but there are only so many times that I can hear the word Baby. Channel 7, I’m looking at you…

Happy long weekend everyone .

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I’m all psyched up for a super weekend of sorting out my iTunes library on my new computer, writing some more of my stats book, sleeping in, possibly watching DVDs, looking through an ethics application, fixing my manuscript and just being downright lazy. The first, third and last that I’ve listed are the priorities, so we’ll see how it goes.

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Oh yeah, and I’m planning on dyeing my hair for the first time. Which actually scares me a little. Yeah, there’s the fact that the colour may just not suit my colouring (although, fingers crossed it will because it’s just a different tone of my natural colour). But my main haunting problem is the idea of regrowth. I’m lazy. And, to my very core, I fear junky looking regrowth. My natural colour is darker and, unfortunately, more red-toned (thanks mum) now. The colour I’m going for is the colour I used to have when I was younger. So hopefully it’ll be goodbye brassy tones. At least partially.

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Because I know you’re all on the edge of your seats, I plan on taking before and after shots. It’ll be hawt and all kinds of awesome. Hopefully.

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AND you’ll all be super pleased to know that I WON the second leather jacket that I was after. For $20 more than I really really wanted to pay, but it looks just like what I was after, so hopefully it will arrive on TUESDAY and it will fit and it will match my hair and it’ll be magic.

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I’m about to get kicked off the computerrrr now, so I will face the blogging world with shiny new hair next time.

I don’t have a lot of time to post at the moment, but I have to update that I just loved Date Movie. And I can’t decide whether I love Tina Fey or Steve Carrell more.

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But I wish I had legs like Tina Fey.

The world (and Ebay) sucks. Just sayin.

So thank you l***c for outbidding me by 50c with 34 seconds to go when I had been watching that perfect jacket for 10 days. And it’s not as if the jacket was particularly worthwhile spending more on – it was third-hand and the tag had been ripped off so there was no sign what kind of quality it was. But to come in at that time sucks. Especially when I can’t find another plain bomber jacket.

Ebay, your email telling me that there’s still good stuff around. Well, actually, there isn’t which is why I  had my hopes pinned on said relatively overpriced third-hand no-name plastic jacket. If you can provide me with a jacket like I’m after, I am perfectly willing to retract that.

For this reason, I am going to list the stages of Ebay grieving that I hope everyone goes through. Yeah, they’re probably narky, but I’m still really annoyed.

Elle’s stages of Ebay grieving

Firstly, I hope that it’s ugly and bad quality. In short, the vindictive side of Elle hopes that you outbid me on a crappy jacket.

Secondly, I hope that it’s too small for you. And you receive it and it doesn’t fit. Hmph.

Thirdly, I hope you don’t pay and I get a second chance offer.

Is anyone else super unlucky with Ebay? I swear that for every five auctions that I bid on, I win one. It’s also not helpful when auctions finish around midnight. I’m not really for Ebay sniping because I think it’s cruel to do it in the final seconds but, beyond the moral (etc) stance, I feel iffy about putting my login details into another site/program. Then again, I do really want this next jacket… can I cross to the darkside to buy this next one…even though the seller won’t reply to my emails?

There are some terms that I would like to see banned from usage in the ebay vernacular.

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Firstly, gorgeous and lovely. Basically the same – so much so that one ebayer I’m watching alternates between them for all of her auctions. I kid you not, everything is preceded by either lovely or gorgeous. Primarily gorgeous.

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Next, great buy. If I see another listing with the term ‘great buy’ in the title or description, I am just going to punch a baby. I just plain don’t like it because it rubs me the wrong way and then the unreasonable logical side of my brain is all ‘How do they even know that it’s going to be a great buy? I don’t care if they start it off at 99c, it could end up a ripoff’ in a highpitched voice and then I get more annoyed. No more great buy.

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Another one that gets me is randomly listing related brand names in the title. Uh, no, that probably makes me less likely to look at your auction anyway. And didn’t Ebay say that was a no no?

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People who talk as their clothes/items. Now, thankfully I haven’t seen too many of them, but when I do, it’s like a poison dart and all my muscles freeze up and I shut the window quickly when I come out of my fuming-anger-related-trance. All ‘oh hai, I come from a non-smoking home. I’m in perfect condition except for a tiny scratch on the inside of the sleeve which you can barely see when worn [AND A GLARINGLY STUPID OWNER] (sic)’. It’s bad enough when people talk through their six month old child, which coincidentally, I have also encountered in the past week. But clothes? At least the baby can burp or something. All the clothes can do is sit there, moving in the breeze and feeling sad about its stupid owner.

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That is all. My brain is filled with Ebay angst.

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As an update: Beautiful is also out. Unless it is Estee Lauder, it probably doesn’t need ‘Beautiful’ in its title. The old woman in me maintains that I will decide whether it’s beautiful or not. And, predominantly, I call shenanigans.

I am going to spend the next eight-odd hours in a state of paralysing anxiety.

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I’ve spoken before, on my previous blog, of my problems with online shopping. It’s normally the payment stage, but ebay gets me like a bitch. I’m bidding on an auction that ends around midnight tonight. I’m the only bidder and the auction has been running for 10 days so far. It took me this long to get up the balls to bid. I am a disappointment to the internetz. But, now I have to wait another… wait for it…7 hours and 51 minutes. Which doesn’t quite seem like midnight, Ebay, but I’ll take the hour countdown rather than the timing, thx.

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So, over the past week, I have spent so long measuring myself that I know my measurements off by heart now. Granted, I had previously thought I was somewhat proportional, but my waist seems to let me down (please note, tapemeasure: it goes in there, isn’t that enough?). That’s not the point at all. The point is that the jacket should fit. I just need to get it. It was my very favourite one until last night when I saw another perfect one that should extend my anxiety by approximately three days.

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The next auction that I need (actually need) finishes in 3 days and 3 hours. 75 hours. That is 75 hours of angst (24 of which could be spent asleep, granted). And it’s probably more than I would ever think I should pay for a second hand jacket, but, really, I need it. And everything inst0re now has either rouching, extra stitching or an explosion of zips or buttons (or, you know, is Miss Shop and isn’t lined).

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ACTUALLY. Speaking of Miss Shop, I went to another Myer (where they were, again, cleverly appeared to have discounts off everything but that item) and saw another 10. Well, there is variation even within sizes, so I thought, lining or not, I should give it another go. Uh, Miss Shop, are you telling me that the 10 I tried on in the city was ACTUALLY a LARGE 10? As in, I can’t get this done up? As in, I tried on two different size 6s that were larger than this? As in, every 8 that I’ve tried on was significantly larger than this?

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So that made me even crabbier. I scoured Chermside Myer yesterday for any form of leather jacket. I found a bunch of Wayne Cooper ones which were terrible. They had this floppy foldover business at the front. If I wanted a swing jacket, I would buy a swing jacket. Make a plain leather jacket, FFS. Then there was a Sportscraft one. Not anywhere near the style I wanted, but it felt fantastic. But it was tan. And it was $549.

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Hopefully in three days, three hours time, I’ll stop bitching about leather jackets and the poor cows can go back to eating grass in peace without the fear of my judgemental eye. To be honest, the Target bomber would have been perfect if they hadn’t done extra stitching around the chest.

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7 hours 40 minutes.

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I am actually getting nail marks in my skin. This cannot be good for my health.

I’m wasting time until Judge Judy comes on. Because I’ve had one of those days that starts with a buttload of plans and none of them get done. Instead I spent today waiting on email replies that never arrived and…I’m not sure what else actually. Morning Show normally cheers me up because I’m really a grumpy old woman inside (as my regular readers will know) and I dearly love Larry and Kylie and Kylie wasn’t on this morning. And you needed to know that.

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But in honour of this grumpiness, I’m going to draft some complaints on here (because I’m awesome…and also, it’s 10 minutes until Judge Judy is on). All truez.

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Dear Palmolive

I recently purchased your Coconut body scrub in good faith that it would, in fact, be coconutty. It is not. It is jojobay. Which is nearly the opposite of coconut. So when I get out of the shower, I smell like jojoba when I should, in fact, smell like coconut. Please remove jojoba from your product for the following reasons: I don’t like the smell of it and it is incredibly difficult to type several times. I’m serious, I wanted coconut. Not fauxconut.

Yours jojobaly, Elle.

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Dear Fletchers

Your pickles taste yuck. Why are they sweet? Why did I get a WHOLE end of a pickle in my sandwich? It crunched. I like the bastardised version of pickles and yours are rustic. I bought it because the colour was brighter than my normal brand. I was led to believe that such colour would lead me down a path of artificial product, but it stopped right at the farmers gate. I want my bastard pickles.

Sipping the hatorade, Elle.

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Dear Hungry Jacks

I waited for like 10 minutes in your city store. The place was like 10 deep in four lines with 2 people serving. Logistically, uh.. Anyway, when we finally got our kids meals, WHERE ARE THE SNOOPYS? I am supposed to have, with my kids meals, two Snoopy toys. I get a reject Marge figurine and, what’s that, NOTHING. I would think that if your staff couldn’t fake a smile when they were handing me my food, they could at least get the order right. And, the ten-plus deep lines remained there so I couldn’t go grab the kid by the neck and demand Snoopys. I’ve also written to you about this and you haven’t replied. You should do something about that. I don’t want your crappy Marge. Snoopys or bust.

Marge is not a Peanut. Love Elle.

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And now it’s time for Judge Judy.

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I wish I was sarcastic like Judge Judy.

Today is a crap day. Made even crapper by lack of information and certainty.

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So I thought I’d take the time to tell you about the time that I started up an illegal brothel.

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Well, when I say ’started up an illegal brothel’, I meant did the paperwork and planning to start up an illegal brothel.

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This was for a uni assignment. And it was a damn fine assignment if I may say so myself. My crowning achievement. This is my one assignment beyond first year that I’m all boasty about, not only because it looked awesome, but it got full marks. So I will continue to live vicariously through that assignment as if all my work is of that quality. Yes?

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As I was saying, the assignment was to start up an illegal business. I think the subject was organised crime. And it was so much awesome. Holla to QUT for that baby. Not like the intelligence subject that I did externally with no lectures and still have no idea what a fuzzy pyramid is or why I researched the CIA.

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This assignment probably now has me on some government watch list. Actually the whole undergrad degree does, but whatevs (more on this later, I think). The time that I wasn’t spending looking up various brothels (local and overseas – btw, my work warns me about inappropriate content when I visit Google, but let me into the Viper Room at that point), I was phoning up the police taskforce that was cracking down on illegal brothels. Saying, and I quote, ‘Oh hai, I’m doing an assignment where I’m setting up an illegal brothel, but can you tell me if there are any bylaws that would prevent [insert something about local planning]‘. From my work phone. Now, when I look back on it, I can see why he would sound distrustful. He wasn’t too keen on giving me advice about how to set up my brothel. Which, had he done so, he would have had an awesome credit on my acknowledgements section of my 100% assignment. What a poor choice for his career.

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That was a bit of a grandpa story. There wasn’t really an ending. I had it shaped in my mind up until the ending and then I lost it. I’m a failure to you.

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But onto the other parts of my undergrad degree that could have me on various watchlists. Well, probably two. The first one was from first year. We had to go around comparing the socioeconomic aspects of two differing suburbs. We picked Hamilton and Inala. One of the girls from our group lived near Inala. That gave me plenty of opportunity to pay out Inala and ask, among other things, if they had trains there. Actually, that’s totally a valid question. Do they? Anyway, at Hamilton, we were wanting to get a picture of the school facilities and we thought a pool was a fairly good judge of wealth/facilities. So there was a guy in our group that was driving his own car (maybe he didn’t want to sit in a van full of girls, fair call) and parked it behind us. One of the girls got out to take pictures of the pool. Oh, there’s a swimming class going on there. Oh wellz. Keep snapping. Until the guy in our group came running up to us all ‘There’s a guy writing down my registration number because you’re taking pictures of the kids. I’m leaving’. He had a bit of a Russian accent, so it still cracks me up to this day. He was so freaked out. Ahh, good times.

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The other time, not so fun or funny. I can’t even recall the point of this assignment, I think it was a terrorism assignment, but I was stuffing around and ended up downloading the Anarchists Cookbook. I’m halfway reading through it and I’m like, yeah, this is pretty bad. Oh wait, do they know who downloads this shit? Because clearly my scientific ability extends no further than boiling a kettle. I actually freaked out a bit after that. I think I actually submitted part of it as an appendix to my lecturer. Who was a policeman. Awesome.

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Well, that trip down memory lane was nice. But today is still ubercrap.

An interesting article for this morning (quoted directly from Ninemsn)

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Controversial atheist author Richard Dawkins is reportedly planning to arrest the Pope for shielding pedophile priests.

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Professor Dawkins, the British evolutionary biologist who wrote The God Delusion, has assembled lawyers in an attempt to have Pope Benedict XVI charged with crimes against humanity, the Times Online reports.

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Dawkins and fellow anti-religion campaigner Christopher Hitchens are believed to be exploring the option of having the Pope arrested under the same legal principal that saw Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet arrested during a British visit in 1998.

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“This is a man whose first instinct when his priests are caught with their pants down is to cover up the scandal and damn the young victims to silence,” the report quoted Professor Dawkins as saying.

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Pope Benedict has come under fresh criticism as new allegations of cover-ups by the Roman Catholic Church have emerged over recent months.

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The 256th Pope, who Professor Dawkins reportedly argues does not receive diplomatic immunity, has said the church is currently facing its “most turbulent times”.

It’s always dangerous when a statement is prefaced by ‘in my day’. But, in my day, there was no such thing as a TRYathlon. You were either good at something or you weren’t. Or you were rich. I knew a family that signed their kids up to play mediocre soccer in a mediocre team funded by parents insistent on building their children’s self esteem. Whether the children won or lost, they got a trophy. A freakin trophy. I always wanted a trophy, but I’m not particularly athletically skilled in any way and, really academics aren’t so much a trophy arena. So I got plenty of awards on marbled cardboard and two books (both abysmal, but they have an award sticker inside them, so I can’t bring myself to get rid of them). But nothing more substantial.

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And damn right I’m bitter.

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But, I digress.

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The TRYathlon is what really got my goat’s attention today. So, I’m all for self-esteem building. And, yeah, I suppose it’s good for a child to get a medal for having completed the tryathlon (is it actually a tri or just the running part??). But it’s not so much the tryathlon (and that spelling is bugging me so much), but the fact that, in the real world, people will lose. I used to be an overachiever all through school and my first degree. Now, I’m probably above average, but I’m not what I would call an overachiever. Which makes me a little grumpy. Maybe if I’d gotten a trophy for finishing the compulsory school cross countries in primary school, I wouldn’t be so grumpy. Or my hair might sit better. In primary school, I was all ‘oh, you can run super fast, but you can’t spell’. But now everyone’s awesome at everything and it gives me the shits.

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Tryathlon, my ass. I ask a little sheepishly whether the person who actually wins gets a bigger trophy? Does this take something away from the people who are actually really good at something?