Cold
Melbourne is so cold right now that:
My coconut oil has permanently solidified, and I have to run it under hot water for five minutes to be able to get any out;
My toes are constantly iciclified and threaten to snap, no matter how many pairs of socks I'm wearing;
I keep on cooking warm wintery things, especially those that require use of the oven, but they're just not warming me up;
My nose is dripping and my eyes are watery and my ears I can't feel them;
Any time I pass any kind of heater I attach myself to it like a needy barnacle;
All exposed pieces of flesh immediately start paining me the second I walk outdoors;
I think I saw some penguins migrating past the bathroom window this morning - they waved and laughed at me as I stood there shivering.
I hate the cold. I need it to go away so that I can be happy and warm and comfortable. Bleh.
Filed under Crapola
How do these things happen to me???
On the tram this morning a man rested his bag on my head, and started sorting through it.
(the bag, not my head)
It wasn't particularly heavy, but it certainly was a bag, and it certainly was being rested upon my head. I was sitting down, he was standing nearby, and apparently my head looked like a nice place to put one's bag.
I jumped, and said "Excuse me!"
He looked at me indignantly, and removed his bag.
My head is not for bags. Not unless I put them there.
Filed under Crapola
Smelly Cat
Myth: Cats are anal-retentive about cleanliness.
Fact: No they are not.
The Cat has a habit of running around like a dervish, skidding across the floor. Today The Cat somehow managed to get a giant turd stuck in its fur, and proceeded to skid across the floor while we were away at work. Upon arriving home, Yehia could track the skidding habits of The Cat throughout the day, as the turd gradually dried on its fur and the skidmarks became more crumbly, less smeared.
The Cat was even kind enough to not clean itself completely. Yehia had just enough time before I got home to disinfect all of the floors throughout the apartment, and pick out the dried pieces from The Cat's fur.
The Cat is now clean and hiding in corners, in shame. Yehia and I are traumatised, and have officially delayed breeding plans. The entire house has been disinfected, with that distinct "pine-fresh" scent that can mask the most insidious of odours waiting for you when you open the front door. We shall never speak of this again.
Filed under Crapola
Some More Interesting Things
- Perhaps I had Dengue Fever! I told you there were lots of mosquitoes!
- Yehia just made me sign my name lots of times. Whilst he told me that it was for a "joint account", I have suspicions that he may be about to sell my kidneys to pay for the wedding.
- The Terror that Purrs in the Night (aka Spinach the cat) did not forget me while I was in Papua New Guinea, and has switched alliances from being Yehia's sidekick back to being leader of my evil minion(s). Perhaps this has motivated the sale of my kidneys.
- I have been eating lots of delicious things.
- Melbourne is very cold. I realised this when my coconut oil solidified. Also when I couldn't stop shivering. Constantly.
- There is lots of stuff here.
- The stuff is somewhat overwhelming.
- The food is somewhat delicious.
- Hooray!*
*with bits of sad, because I miss Papua New Guinea.
Filed under Crapola, EEEEeeekk!!!, Heeheehee..., Let's Get Married!, So they said..., Super Dooper
Last Days
I have three sleeps left in Port Moresby (excluding naps). Other things that I must do are as follows:
- Eat goodness
- Drink
- Pack
- Eat more
- Drink
- Nap
- Panic
- Drink
- Relax
- Nap
- Unpack
- Repack
- Nap
- Panic
- Unpack
- Drink
- Nap
- Drink
- Eat
- Nap
- Repack
- Panic
- Panic
- Panic
- Drink
- Drink
- Drink
- Drink
- Get on plane
- Panic
- Pass out.
There will also be some mangroving, chatting, hugging, drinking, buying pretty things, napping, eating, drinking, chatting, napping, hugging and panicking. In no particular order. Eek.
Filed under Crapola, EEEEeeekk!!!, Heeheehee...
We're Independent and we're Free, Papua New Guinea
On Saturday night I went out for dinner. Unfortunately I was late and had to sit near some people I don’t know so well, while my friends were up at the other end of the table. Despite not particularly liking these people, I determined not to be precocious this time, but to be as polite and as amiable as possible.
It was a disaster.
First of all they were boring and old and had absolutely nothing in common with me - conversation revolved around the last time they were in Australia and what they bought, and what they were planning on buying next time they went down. But things really started going downhill when somebody mentioned, “Have you ever noticed how bad the money smells in Papua New Guinea?”
My mouth literally hung open as the six people surrounding me started discussing how on pay day Papua New Guineans (who of course don’t have wallets) stick their money in their buttcracks to take it home.
That’s right – these people were having a conversation about how Papua New Guineans stick their money in their buttcracks to take it home. Laughing and smiling at these silly people, and why their money is smelly. Because, you see, Papua New Guineans stick their money in their buttcracks to take it home.
I was dumbfounded for about sixty seconds, until I started arguing with them. “That’s simply absurd”, I said; “I just don’t believe it” and “Don’t be ridiculous”. “Have you ever seen anyone actually do that?” I asked, and I told them “I’m afraid that this is just too preposterous”. To which they replied “Oh Carolyn, you’ve only been here for a year, you don’t really know Papua New Guineans”.
This coming from people who have lived here for most, if not a good part of, their lives. Well-educated people, in their twenties and thirties. People working for high-powered law firms, aid agencies and businesses. People whose only association with Papua New Guineans is with their Haus Meri, or their waiter, or their colleague (of whom they ask “So how did you actually get this job?”, as if a Papua New Guinean wouldn’t/couldn’t have a qualification, let alone work experience).
I was simply horrified, and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to throw my shoe at them, to scream at them, to shame them. I wanted to tell them that if they can’t respect the citizens they should get the hell out of this country. Instead I tried to reason and speak with them. All of the protestations and arguments I made were literally laughed at, and I rapidly got to the point where I simply couldn’t engage with these people any more. I was so angry. I felt myself curl up as I refused to make eye contact, and answered everything with monosyllables. I backed away from all conversations and sat there in my shocked silence, while they just presumed I was being a wet blanket. Because of course Papua New Guineans carry their money around in their buttcracks, why wouldn’t you believe this?
As if I’d want to be any kind of blanket around these people. I felt so ashamed to be associated with them – ashamed to be sitting with them, to be holding the same passport as them, to be in any way identifiable as one of “them”. They continued on with their conversation, just presuming that because of my skin colour I’d be in agreement with them. Deeply shamed and offended, I left the restaurant as soon as I could, but I still haven’t been able to leave behind the feelings of revulsion and disgust.
Filed under Crapola, So they said...
So THAT'S how you educate a nation!
I, along with most of the population of Papua New Guinea, have a love for SP beer. At the moment I'm feeling a little compromised, though, due to their current competition:
That's right, K250,000 worth of school fees to be won if you just drink more beer. UNICEF and AusAID with their hifalutin ideas of free primary education have a lot to learn from SP, as this is surely the way to increase the current 57% adult literacy rate and educate the next generation.
I think I need to stick with vodka.
Filed under Crapola, EEEEeeekk!!!, So they said...
I'm not hungover, I'm really sick!
Birthday Shenanigans went very well, and the Birthday Gods looked after me and saved me from a hangover, which is more than I can say for some other people who attended the fun and games, and who even started later than me and even went home earlier than me. So there. I told you I'm still young.
But those Birthday Gods didn't save me from sore-throat-snotty-nose-slight-fever-achy-body-badness. I was laughed at a little bit on the weekend when I said I was sick, and people said "No silly, you're just hungover, that's what happens when you turn 25!" but I TOLD YOU SO I'M SICK!!!! Look at the snot! Hear my voice! Feel my slightly feverish forehead! Sick I am!!!!
I can't go home and lie on the couch, because soon our New Haus Meri will be there to do cleaning, and I don't want to be cleaned. Bleach just dries my skin out. I just want to wallow. So here at work I will sit, with a pathetic look on my face and a box of tissues by my side, pretending to Do Important Things.
In other more amusing and less gross news, did you know that Elvis Presley and Tom Jones are actually Papua New Guinean? So are the King and the Queen (I don't know of which country - does it really matter?). They're all on the electoral roll in the Highlands, and I'm really glad to see well-known celebrities enrolling in time for this year's elections. I just hope they turn up to vote.
Filed under Crapola, So they said...
What to do when there’s an alleged paedophile in your country*
The 12-step guide for getting rid of those naughty men whom troublesome neighbours want to extradite*:
1. Pretend he’s not there;
2. Fly him out on a broken air force plane;
3. Pretend you didn’t do it;
4. Get insulted when neighbour says “Oi, don’t do that!”;
5. Get uppity;
6. Create defence-force enquiry;
7. Feel self-righteous;
8. Get cranky when enquiry suggests you did it;
9. Force defence minister to disband enquiry;
10. Fire defence minister for saying you forced him to disband it;
11. Hold a golf tournament;
12. Pretend nothing happened.
*according to the GCSMS
Filed under Crapola, Heeheehee..., So they said...
This Weekend...
... I won a pair of SP thongs which are now (almost) my most prized possession. They make footprints of the SP logo when I walk in them. I haven't walked in them yet, though, because I don't want goobies blocking up my SP logo.
... I admitted that I have a crush on Justin Timberlake, and a crush on Sharzy. Then I did lots of dancing to them both.
... I realised, through a rant that lovely1 and lovely2 patiently listened to, that when you let someone in and you can only skirt around them that you'll only get hurt. Coz just knowing that they like tofu and not soy milk isn't enough.
... Some Hagen boys got me drunk and laughed at me coz I was talking too much.
... I had a minor freak-out because I have only less than four weeks left in Papua New Guinea.
... I pretended that it didn't hurt when the little piece of self-esteem-worth-ego-happiness-whatever fell onto the floor, and I've been kicking it around ever since. Sometimes I stomp on it, because self-flagellation is almost as good as a hangover. I'm getting over it now.
... A wonderful lady brought me two delicious bunches of sugarfruit all the way from Goroka, which made my day. Thankyou very much, wonderful lady.
Filed under Adventures in Deliciousness, Crapola, Exciting Acquisitions, Heeheehee..., So they said...
Port Moresby Conversations
Last night the sky was an angry angry sky. It was so angry that it was throwing water all over Port Moresby, with thunderbolts and lightning (very very frightening me) so big and loud and angry that our whole balcony was shaking. Shaking. I was standing on it, glass of wine in hand, discussing with the sky it's problems. Suffice to say it has many - it's full of holes and such, and soon there won't be anything left of it, what with all this global warming and stuff happening. Poor bugger.
Before all that happened I was in the wine store when a very senior (as in important and powerful, not as in old) staff member of the university came up to me:
"Hello Carolyn, it's lovely to see you."
"Hello."
"I'm looking for a beautiful bottle of red wine to share with people who care to come and visit me in my office."
"Well, you're looking at white wine right now. Red is over there."
"Thankyou my dear. See you soon."
This morning we had to do away with our Haus Meri (cleaning lady) because she was stealing our monies. We didn't "do away with" her in a mafia kind of way, we just told her that her services are no longer needed. Our previous Haus Meri had been offered a better job and abandoned us, but she recommended her sister as a good replacement, who promptly began stealing monies little by little from around the house. She left this morning with quiet resignation. We called her sister to let her know, whose response was:
"Oh yes, she's not as honest as me. I know that. She lives in Gerehu, and she doesn't come to my house."
After this revelation I came to work, and sat down to do some of that said work. A man stood outside my office window, staring at me.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, I want to speak to that man over there." (pointing through my office to a man on the other side of the hallway)
"Well why don't you go to his office window and talk to him there?"
"No, it's alright, I'll talk to him here."
"I'd rather you didn't, because I'm trying to do my work."
"Oh. I see. We won't be long, I just need to talk to him for a minute."
"I'd really rather you didn't..."
"Oh, ok then. Continue."
Filed under Adventures in Deliciousness, Crapola, EEEEeeekk!!!, Heeheehee..., So they said..., Waiting
You make me Sick
Dear Butthead/s,
You are a freak. I don’t like you. I used to, but I don’t any more. I regret ever having taken the time to say hello to you, let alone interacting further.
You are hypocritical and selfish. You suck, hard. The sight of you makes me want to vomit and I do everything I can to avoid your presence. Your face makes me cringe and when you speak it’s like fingernails down a blackboard mixed with sharpening knives mixed with little puppies being strangled. Everything about you is inconsequential, boring and stupid.
Unfortunately I need to vent through this medium, because I still need to see you a fair bit and I don’t want to be nasty to your face, coz that isn’t nice (maybe that makes me a hypocrite too but shutup fingernail/knives/puppies freak). I just want to say publicly, though, that pretty soon I will never have anything to do with you ever again, no matter what. I would rather have donovanosis than continue this relationship.
At the moment I’m a bit compromised by circumstance. I don’t like it, but I’m living with it. You’re not worth putting any more effort into this, so I’m going to conclude by saying: You’re a buttmunching pissturd with no brains and I don’t like you and you stink like rotten fishguts that have been barfed up by a dying goat with syphilis.
Regards,
Carolyn
Filed under Crapola
ouch ouch ouch
I have a bad back which sometimes hurts a lot.
Somehow at some point during the weekend I managed to acquire a pinched nerve in my right shoulder. I'm not sure how I managed this, as there were NO drunken shenanigans at all. Maybe it's because there were no drunken shenanigans, I don't know. I will remember this for future reference and make sure that there are drunken shenanigans every weekend in the future, just in case.
Anyway, it was so painful that I had to take copious amounts of valium. Saturday night, Sunday morning, Sunday night, Monday morning, Monday night. Pain, ow. Ow ow ow.
Yesterday my little hussymobile needed a bit of fixing and when I picked it up and drove it away I had to pull over to the side of the road to do some neck stretches, as every time I tried to check my blind spot I felt it necessary to scream "OH F*** THAT GODDAM HURTS OH NO OW OW OW!!!!", accompanied by flinching and screaming and spasms, all of which make it quite difficult to concentrate on driving.
It's quite necessary to check one's blind spot, particularly in Port Moresby.
So I stretched it so that I could check blind spots and went home and soon fell asleep on the couch. Through my valium-induced dopiness I heard a housemate moving around a bit after seven, and forced myself to wake up so that I could eat something, as I hadn't really eaten much since the hurties started. I ate something and sat for a bit, blinking, and was passed out in bed before 8:30 (which in my book is a sin - it's a sin to sleep before 10:30 unless you're super hungover).
This morning I woke up and it was all lovely and almost ok. It's still hurtie in my shoulder but I have full movement back of neck/back/shoulder areas. I checked my blind spot a lot on the way to work this morning, just for the fun of it. And I didn't take any valium this morning. Hoorays!
So no more dopeys. I have been so dopey since I started the valium-taking on Saturday night, dopey dopey dopey. Not noticing things like food, and smudged nailpolish, and open zippers (in places where you don't want them open), and chocolate. Here's to noticing!
Filed under Crapola
More Interesting Things
1. In exactly ONE MONTH I will be 25. Just in case you can't count, that's Thursday March 1st. Please prepare all gifts, hugs, well-wishes, etc. for a timely celebration.
2. I am leaving in 7 weeks. EEEEEKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!
3. Someone quite lovely is getting their brain fixed. Good luck, lovely person. Don't worry, I'll be there in 7 weeks to sing you lullabies, aka David Bowie covers on my pink ukulele.
4. People shouldn't get that drunk at their brother's wedding, even if it is Yehia's fault.
5. If people do get that drunk, they probably shouldn't talk about their testicles, and the said testicles' relationship to squishy cheese. Nor should they demonstrate.
6. Ants are trying to eat me alive. Probably because I'm delicious.
7. I am moving offices, across the hall. For my last seven weeks of work. Efficient.
8. There's a kind of hush all over the university today.
9. There have been so many blackouts today, it's ridiculous. At least two every hour. Damn UPS, I have to stay at work!
10. We're moving towards finalising a wedding date. We have a wedding month, and will let you know when the date is when we know. Hooray!
Filed under Crapola, EEEEeeekk!!!, Exciting Acquisitions, Heeheehee..., Super Dooper, Waiting
What One does when One doesn't want to do One's work
I am Cranky with my work because it sucks, at the moment.
So in the midst of writing Terse Yet Diplomatic emails to the people who didn't do their job, and Blunt Yet Diplomatic emails to the people in charge of the people who didn't do their job, I'm entertaining myself with the newspaper.
Flash Gordon needs to watch out, because whoever shot Dale still has that slingshot, and they might get him too!
Only in PNG could a member of the opposition get a cabinet seat. That's right, the PM gave a cabinet seat to a member of the opposition party. Only in PNG. Ah, Papua New Guinea.
I'm afraid I can't ge my thumbs up to the new Besta tuna. I just can't. I tried, and I can't.
No, I am not in the centre of a vortex of new ideas, change and confusion! I feel a distinct lack of all three! You lie, stars!
Ooh, jobs! To be a driver, One must be 'Of sober habits'. One is not of sober habits. One can't be a driver. Dang.
Goodness. One must be of sober habits to be a Regional Sales Supervisor Retail Division, too. And to be a Branch Manager, but not to be a Member Service Officer. My career opportunities seem to be quite limited in PNG.
Apparently a wedge-shaped coastline indentation is a ria. That's what it said when I did 16-down and 7-down and 17-down. 7-down is assail, but the clue to 35-across is assail! Weird! What is a table-shaped hill? I got calms with drugs very quickly. And how can a popular drink not be vodka? Ok, material for overalls is apparently denim, which makes a table-shaped hill a mesa. Hmmm.
And I'm just not amused by blondie. Boring little twat.
I don't think the paper is really helping.
"How WWIII will Begin", or "Carolyn gets sick of Stupidos"
I'm sick of men trying to intimidate me.
Yesterday driving home from work when I turned onto the highway a car full of men decided to pick on me. So when I was trying to indicate to get off the lane-thingy-that-you-drive-on-to-get-onto-the-road-but-which-stops-so-you-have-to-get-off-it-before-it-stops they came up beside me, matching my speed, so that I couldn't change lanes. As my lane was petering out they went more and more slowly, so that I was almost stationary at the end of the lane when they drove off, laughing.
Yehia got somewhat annoyed when, out at a nightclub, I was approached by a big-enormous-oh-my-god-how-did-you-get-that-big-without-exploding man who said "Mr Twinkleballs* wants to speak with you". My response, of course, was "What?"
Mr Burly*: Looking burly; "Mr Twinkleballs wants to speak with you. Come."
Carolyn: Shaking head, with best 'whatever' look on face; "Can't you see my husband over there, pole dancing?!" Looks proudly at Yehia, cheers.
Mr Burly: Looking perplexedly at Yehia, feeling more burly; "Mr Twinkleballs wants to speak with you. Come with me."
Carolyn: Making 'Pfft' sounds with disdainful look on face; "No."
Mr Burly: Looking shocked; "Don't you know who Mr Twinkleballs is?"
Carolyn: Looking around and laughing; "Nah!"
Mr Burly leaves. Yehia watches him walk over to Mr Twinkleballs, who turns out to be a Mike Tysonesque figure, known for beating men and women at will - I was told quite sincerely by a friend "you really don't want to make that man angry, Carolyn!". Nice. Yehia watches them for the rest of the night, as Mr Burly approaches woman after woman on behalf of Mr Twinkleballs. We're not sure if anybody knew who he was. Yehia didn't know who he was, but was nonetheless quite unimpressed.
Then there's the stalkers at the university... and the pickup lines... and the rest that I'm not going to tell about here so that nobody freaks out... etc...
Methinks I may have to invest in some kind of body guard. I know a man who in 3 seconds, with no warning, can clear a two-meter radius with one gaseous emission - I wonder if he'd be interested? But then, there's always the risk that I could fall victim to my own defences in a terrible sphincter-related nightmare scenario where in a giant battle the cloud of gas would spread across PNG. John Howard would use his giant sphincter to retaliate against the threat from the north and the cloud would grow... and then Iran and North Korea would open their sphincters... then George Bush would initiate the biggest sphincter-opening event on the planet and the cloud would grow, eventually encompassing the world and blocking the sun and killing all life forms...
*some real names not used
Filed under Crapola, EEEEeeekk!!!
Bother, Drat and Damn!
The soap opera that comes with being a world-class pink ukulele player continues: I have had a Bad Spot Of Time.
I would normally say bad week, but it has lasted more than a week. Start being sympathetic now.
First of All: When I moved out of my old house at the end of September, my landlord decided that he would refuse to give my bond back. I had been nice (aka stupid) enough to pay the whole of my bond and not bother the other flatmates with it. So now I am short 3618 kinas, which might not be much for some but I AM A VOLUNTEER. He (also known as Evil Devil-Spawn ex-Landlord from the Depths of Hell, EDSELFTDOH) decided that since I had signed a lease for 12 months (incidentally I forgot to sign it, he's lying, I still have the unsigned copies) I was not entitled to have my bond back. In fact, EDSELFTDOH decided that I could either:
a) pay him the six months' rent still owing on the lease and then retreive my bond OR
b) forfeit my bond.
Little did he know that I know the Cutest Little Engan Lawyer On The Planet (CLELOTP, aka Kym) who is going to lawyer his arse.
Second of All: As a lovely pink-ukulele-playing lady volunteer in Port Moresby (capital of the ninth-most-dangerous-country-in-the-world) I am provided with a vehicle with which to get myself from one place to another. Said vehicle had been subject to 'dubious' servicing before my posession of it, from which the brakes never came back quite right... I took it in for a service a week and a half ago, and they took it apart, and said:
"We can't actually legally put this car back together. The brake pads and brake discs are worn through, and the struts are about to fall apart which is why they are clunking so much, and the whole system is about to fall out of the car. If we put it back together we'll be liable for the brakes failing, which they WILL."
So off goes the submission to funding body to get the repairs authorised... Friday passes... Weekend passes... Carolyn has no transport... Monday passes... Tuesday comes and Carolyn chucks a fit and gets repairs authorised. Because it was left so long Carolyn has to wait until the end of the week... Still no car... Should be ready on Monday...
Third of All: Yesterday I was at a hotel in Port Moresby eating chips, and my mobile phone was on the table. Then I went home and my phone wasn't in my bag. Kristen and I had a minor panic and called the hotel, who said it hadn't been found. We sent a text message to my phone, and it was replied with a blank message. We realised that the person who has my phone didn't realise it's one of the snazzy slidey ones so we sent him a message telling him/her to slide it... and they stopped responding to our messages. We sent him/her thousands of messages saying, "bring the phone to the hotel where they are holding a reward at the front desk for you" but they are not responding. The network was down and we couldn't call it... We still can't call it... Others who called it got no answer...
See, the only way that anyone can contact me is on my mobile phone because I don't have a landline coz nobody in Port Moresby has a landline coz the phone company is so crap and useless and coz they cost so much so now nobody can call me in case the world blows up and they want to let me know, or in case I have won a million dollars, or in case they want me to play David Bowie covers on my pink ukulele at their birthday party...
Fourth of All: There's other stuff but this is just geting too complainey so I won't go into that. Most dramatic things have been mentioned.
I miss my little phone and I feel that I am castrated like a little castrated lamb that has had its bum chopped off as well as its testicles. And now the rest of it is about to be chopped up and put on a giant spit and slowly turned over charcoal then put into bread with salad-type-ingredients and garlic sauce and eaten by drunk people. Except that I still have my bum. And I never had testicles.
Please can I have some sympathy? I'm sad and pouting. Lots. Sad. Me. Pouting.
Note to all residents of Port Moresby and the world who have my mobile number: Call it. Several people already have begun tormenting the current possessor of my phone, who hasn't the nouse to turn it off in order to stop being harrassed. So call it, torment them. Text them. Bug them. Make their life hell. Coz they suck crap (not because they're into that kind of thing, which is ok by me as long as they don't want me to join in - it's because they stink and are stupid robbing bastards).
Filed under Crapola
Thanks, kid.
Driving home Friday afternoon, singing along to the radio with the windows down for that extra-special 'wind-blown' look...
There was a car beside me, as there often is on a three-lane road. The back window slowly wound down and I did a minor double-take as a toy gun was pointed in my direction. And fired (yes, I was right, it was a toy...).
A kid, about 10 years old, stuck his head out the window and shouted, "I'm gonna kill you, white meri!"
I drove away.
Filed under Crapola
The Phoenix Rises from the Ashes; I wanna go please please oh please!!!
Ok so my jeans didn't go flying after all. They turned up in Kristen's wardrobe. Drama averted. It turns out they got mixed up and hung up and we didn't notice yesterday morning while I was running around the house, wailing about my irretreivable loss. I did have an interesting conversation via email with Kym about it yesterday, though:
Kym: I VERY VERY VERY much identify as my BEST JEANS IN THE WORLD were stolen in Enga in 2002 and I spent the next 3 months scouring EVERY SINGLE jean-wearing mutant for my long-lost one-of-a-kind fit-me-perfect JEANS and I KNOW if I'd seen them, I would have MURDERED the person wearing them. Alas alack they never came back to me. Only a woman can know what the 'perfect jeans' means. Many condolences. Even IF you were Right!
Carolyn: I am very sad about my jeans. The ones I am wearing at the moment are just not good enough. Alas. Alack-a-day. SH it is. Though I do think that they were not the perfect jeans, and that maybe it was fate taking them away so that I would find the perfect pair. They were my favourites of the jeans that I had, although they were not perfect. So they were bound to be knocked out of place at some point by the perfect pair. This rationale does not dull the pain of the loss, though.
Point being that I'm still going secondhand shopping soon so that I can buy the perfect pair of jeans. I know I'll find them.
In other news, I am now going to rant about 'no-go-zones'. These 'no-go zones' are places that the funding body deems to be unsafe for lovely little ladies with pink ukuleles, despite what they might or might not be doing there. So, I'm Not Allowed to go secondhand shopping there. It also means that I'm Not Allowed to work there, too.
There is an amazing organisation here called 'The Friends Foundation', which is a friends of people living with HIV/AIDS kind of thing. They do lots of great stuff like give people household goods, food, care and friendship. They also help out the local hospital, where the morgue is filled to the brim with the unclaimed bodies of people whose families are too ashamed, because of HIV, to pick them up. The Friends Foundation raise heaps and heaps of money, and give these people a proper burial. The other day they buried 29 little babies. And I have a whole house full of Stuff to give them, from my last house. And I have work to do with them. And their office is in Gerehu. And I'm Not Allowed to visit them.
I'm also Not Allowed to go and visit Blacky in Morata. Blacky needs money so that he can open up a youth centre, and I can help him. Even though the whole community is scared of him because he used to be a rather nasty rape/pillage/murder type criminal (now reformed, some kind of god-action happened there I think), I am Still Not Allowed to go there. His youth centre would help other nasty rape/pillage/murder type criminals to do stuff with their lives other than rape/pillage/murder. Anyway, nobody would touch a HAIR of a lovely little lady with a pink ukulele if she was with Blacky, but I'm still Not Allowed to go there. No Ifs and no Buts and no Questions - no Gerehu, and no Morata.
It just goes to show that some of the funding bodies that think they look all snazzdabulous and spunky and all the rest really don't have a clue about what they're doing in Papua New Guinea with their one-size-fits-all restrictions and rules and stuff. Normally I wouldn't pay much attention to restrictions, especially such as these, but I'm being GPS-tracked all the time so they'll know, and when they find me out they'll ship me out of the country quick-smart - Not Good. Not that after my measly six months I'm an expert, but I do understand that if I'm with The Friends Foundation, or if I'm with Blacky, I will be ok. That's how PNG works - if you know the right people and go with the right people and do with the right people, it's ok. It makes me Super-Crankyorama because stupid funding body are stuffing up my work and actually being stupid crapheads with no brains, just crap in their heads, about it all. I Wanna Go To Gerehu and I Wanna Go To Morata. Cranky. Me. Grrrr!
- End Rant -
Filed under Crapola, Super Dooper
I just thought I'd let you know I was Right.
I don't know why all of these people didn't believe me. I didn't pretend to have the answer, but I knew that the answer they were believing was Wrong.
The most widely spoken language in the world is officially not Urdu.
I Was Right.
If you don't believe me look here. I don't care that the number 1 doesn't really make sense (can you really mix Cantonese and Mandarin and just say Chinese???), the point is that it's not Urdu. Urdu is the 20th most spoken language in the world. Not the first. Or the second, so you can't make random disqualifications (unless you 'conveniently' make 19) and say that it's really Urdu. Coz it's not.
I just thought I'd let you know.
In other news, my jeans are missing. They were hanging on the clothesline, on the balcony. Admittedly our balcony is very high up - on the third floor of a building very high up on the hill. But that's no excuse. They were hanging on the clothesline and now they're gone. Admittedly our balcony is subject to gale-force winds from across the sea at times. But that's no excuse. My jeans seem to have flown off the balcony away to the fairies. Or maybe to somebody else's legs. I'm not really sure which. Either way I'm Most Upset. I liked those jeans. My Favourite Jeans (particularly now that they're lost). Today I am wearing Totally Unsuitable jeans. I think that I might have to go secondhand shopping to find another equally excellent pair, if it's at all possible. That'll learn me for washing my clothes.
What was that? Oh yeah, I was Right. That still doesn't bring my jeans back, though.
Filed under Crapola, So they said...
Forgot This Too
Ok I forgot to mention this too.
I'm halfway through PNG today.
Well, kind of. Not literally, in a way. But really, I am. Halfway as in halfway through my 12-month assignment. As in 6 months today. Halfway. Through. My. Stay. In. PNG.
EEEEEEEEEEeeeeEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!
So many more things to do! So many more animals to poke! So many more people to play with! So many more crazy things to eat! So many more things to be scared of! So many more t-shirts to see!
Did I mention eek?
EeeeeeEEEEEeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Filed under Adventures in Deliciousness, Crapola, EEEEeeekk!!!, Exciting Acquisitions, Heeheehee..., Miscellany, So they said..., Super Dooper, T-Shirt Of The Day, WOW, Waiting
Why should I have a prepaid account?
"You do not have a prepaid account"
- beep beep beep beep beep -
"You do not have a prepaid account"
- beep beep beep beep beep -
"You do not have a prepaid account"
- beep beep beep beep beep -
This has been my life for the last few days, as I attempt to make contact with the outside world. I finally got annoyed today when I couldn't call Yehia with birthday wishes, and called the ever-elusive mobile phone company(from a landline).
Apparently they accidentally deleted the accounts of several of their (valued?) pre-paid mobile customers, and whilst those of us lucky enough to be subjected to this can receive calls, any outgoing call is met with:
"You do not have a prepaid account"
- beep beep beep beep beep -
They're not really sure how they managed to delete our accounts. They're not really sure how many people's accounts they managed to delete, either. They just know that they deleted many. Including mine. Maybe they will be back today. Maybe they will be back tomorrow. In the meantime:
"You do not have a prepaid account"
YES - beep - I - beep - DO!!!!! - beep beep beep -
Filed under Crapola, Heeheehee...
Hurtie McOw
My back is broken.
Owie.
Maybe coz I moved house over the weekend.
Eeeeaaaagh.
Maybe coz I did too much dancing on Saturday night after moving house.
Blleeeeaaaarrghhh.
Owie it hurts oooooooooooooooooohhhhh!
I think I need some chocolate soy milk.
Filed under Crapola
Challenges
The university has ordered the guards to start regularly patrolling my building in an attempt to curb the stalking... That's a good thing.
The students have warned the university to stop employing expats... Fingers crossed there will be no more firebombing of cars... Hmmm...
I think, as always, vodka will fix it.
Filed under Crapola
BLLLEEEEEEHHHHHH!!!!!!!
Back at work.
Back to all of the things that I was ignoring for a week while the lovely Yehia was here: complete lack of support from the university for my program; stalkers; lack of internet and phone access; scary stalkers; paperwork; war in Lebanon; the fact that I can't use one door into my building because it's literally not safe because the stalkers stalk around there; crappy lunches; goddam racism in Australia I so NEVER want to go back there; so much work to do; training plans and manuals to write; politics to negotiate; stalkers...
But there are a few amazing things happening - I won two tickets to Cairns with accommodation for two (will be meeting Yehia there!) thanks to a Rotaract raffle (I love you Kym!), I have all of the lovely presents that Yehia brought up in his care package from down South, and I am feeling restored after a wonderful week. Also some visiting volunteers are staying with us and looking after me very nicely thankyou lads, and I am thinking about wrangling my way up to the Hagen show in a couple of weeks!
Hopefully I'll manage a decent internet connection this week and I'll post some more photos from our week of fun, games and food. Stay posted!
Filed under Crapola