Miss Piggy

I truly admire Miss Piggy's style. While she sometimes dresses a little scantily for someone of her stature, she is always meticulously groomed and accessorised. Like Barbie, she has had outfits designed for her by high end designers like Prada. My favourite period of Miss Piggy's fearless fashion is her 1980s wardrobe, particularly in The Muppets Take Manhattan.

I'm not so much into Muppet-inspired fashion.

STREET CLASH

STREET CLASH

I've become obsessed with street style blogs, especially sites where you get a vote.

dropstitch � Blog Archive � Store profile: Pigeonhole

I'm shocked that I never knew that this store, Pigeonhole, existed. Do I need to start reading the street press?

HOY FASHION � liverpool street style fashion photography

HOY FASHION � liverpool street style fashion photography

Yet another favourite street style site. This one's from the UK.

Designers For Target

I ended up getting a Yeojin Bae dress. The sizes are crazy large - I'm only an eight in all the things I tried.

Blind

For the past few days, I have been visually impaired, due to an unfortunate case of conjunctivitis and annoying delays on the delivery of my new specs. Fortuantely I know how to touch-jtype because even with the font at a ridiculously large size, I cannot see the words displayed on the screen. It has been an interesting world without TV or internet (except in 5 minute spurts) or driving. I have felt too timid to even leave the house, worried that i will be run down by some camouflaged vehicle or fall into a puddle. I found some old specs lying under my bed but the prescription is so out of date that these were headache-inducing aafter all of 5 minutes. Activities that I have been able to do include reading (although I've run out of reading material and have been unable to restock, due to the abovementioned fear of leaving the house), cooking (fortunately one of my last pre-blindness activities was grocery shopping to make a pasta dish) and sleeping (all with the gooey wonder of chloramphenical ointment to keep me company).

Pkease exc;use any typos. I am normally the first to point out errors in spelling but I beg immunity as I can't actually see the errors and I find this laptop keyboard difficult to use, especially without visual feedback. My fingers feel like clumsy logs and my manual dexterity is quickly fading. Glad i don't want to be surgeon, then.

Salespeople

In general, I find salespeople irritating. Of course, I find most people irritating. Here are some specific examples of salesperson-related irritation that I've experienced this year.

I bought my widescreen TV at Myer a few months ago. The salesboy (yes, this weedy Asian guy admitted to me that he was an 18-year-old studying Science/Commerce at UWA, who enjoys playing computer games in his spare time, on his parents' widescreen TV) repeatedly complained to me that he was staying late to complete my paperwork. When I asked him whether he had to rush off somewhere, he replied, "Nah, probably just going to go home and play computer games." (This was a Saturday night.) The most annoying part was when he kept making comments about my supposed "husband or boyfriend," including: "Do you have a husband or boyfriend to help you set this up?"

Another annoying sexist salesman remark was encountered on Sunday when I was buying my new computer/printer and all the other accessories (including a teeny, tiny mouse - apparently this is a very girly purchase). The salesman asked if I'd been out the previous night, I replied that I was still suffering the consequences of Friday night and his first response was: "What were you drinking? Breezers?" In truth, I'd drunk anything but. Beer, champagne, cocktails, G&Ts, shots of Jack...

Purchasing any sort of home entertainment or IT device (or furniture, for that matter) seems to throw up all sorts of barriers for the young single girl. I know I'm not alone in this. Don't these retailers realise that single young women are a fast-growing sector of property-owners? Maybe I need to buy less hi-fi and more hairdryer/vibrator/kitchen appliance.

No repeats of Extreme Makover tonight, in lieu of World Cup Cricket. I usually find cricket soooo boring but now that there's a bit of a murder mystery, it's far more exciting. No disrespect intended to Bob Woolmer.

They did do makeovers tonight on The Biggest Loser. I only caught the end of the show but that Patti chick looked H.O.T. All the blokes' dodgy facial hair was gone. That whingey Courtney guy still has a face like he's sucking on a lemon. Like he's a vagina sucking on a lemon.

I'm being my most charming self tonight.I'm trying to stay up late because I start ward cover nights again tomorrow. Although I do have some plans for tomorrow: visit phlebotomist, return unwanted Stella McCartney for Target clothes (about $500 worth), go to the post office, buy Kathy a birthday pressie, buy lots of crap for the DCR and maybe do some furniture window-shopping (as I'm feeling too lazy to carry anything home/assemble it).

Another whinge: the bank doesn't open until 9.30am! I finished work a bit late the other day and thought I'd go to the bank on the way home. I rocked up to Barrack Street CBA at 8.30am and was trying to figure out when it opened. Then my dad phoned me and informed me that banks don't open until 9.30!!! (That's not what he called me about.) My dad used to work for Commonwealth Bank so was quite defensive of the staff and the hard work they do. Which was not going down to well with me, having just come off night ward cover.

I decided to walk to West Perth CBA yesterday as it was a lovely sunny day. I try to aboid visiting the bank in person because they seem to charge you $10 just for walking through the front door (like St John of God Murdoch Emergency Department, only cheaper). However, the lady on the Netbank helpline told me I had to visit the branch in person. Guess what - I didn't. Grrr. Fortunately, while I was there I got them to fix up something else they had messed up so it wasn't a completely wasted effort.

When I came out of the bank it was pissing down with rain. Whinge. I stopped for a disgusting latte, yummy biscuit and Monday's West Australian (yawn) while I waited for the rain to dry up.

Final whinge for tonight - City West train station is having some pressure cleaning. It is noisy. Even with the windows shut. I may go down to the gym and work out. Even though it's 2am.

Today's whinge

I did night shft on Saturday night/Sunday morning. I worked from 10pm until 8am. I will be paid for a ten hour shift. BUT I WORKED ELEVEN HOURS BECAUSE OF THE DAYLIGHT SAVING ROLLBACK. I didn't get paid for a hour's work. Sheesh. And it was an hour of Sunday penalties (75%). Damn.

Transperth have these new SmartRider cards. Even though travel from my train station to the City or to work is within the free transit zone, I had to buy a SmartRider card ($10) so that I can get on and off the train in the city. Evidently I forgot to swipe off at my station one day. It cost me $4.70 credit off my SmartRider. Dammit.

Enough whinge.

There's a Wife Swap "Partner Edition" on TV. This means that one of the "wives" is a gay man. His new family is a "tradiotional Christian family unit." Dad openly admits that his new gay wife "will have a hard time here because of the hatred that's around in this area towards 'them'." Bigotry at its best. Not as entertaining as Extreme Makeover but should be fun. Fat Mum says, "there's hope the gays can change." Fat Dad's wandered off in the middle of the night to get advice from his Pastor because, "I can't let this get into my home. Having that in my house means that I'm welcoming sin into my house." On the Pastor's advice, he chucked the partner out of the house!

My new sofa arrives tomorrow (assuming that Freedom don't fuck up the delivery). I had it upholstered with custom fabric.

Budget designer label stuff

Even the international media were covering the Stella McCartney for Target mayhem that ensued yesterday. I avoided the 9am store-opening rush but I did head down to Morley Target around 10am to scavenge the few remaining size 10 pieces. Then I headed to Bullcreek in the arvo - they had heaps more stuff than Morley, even at 4.30pm! Anyway, I read an article about how dozens of people are returning their stuff because it's too big (even accounting for Stella's drapey style). I think I'll just return my unwanted pieces - people are selling the stuff on ebay for heaps! And it's target-quality, made in china stuff, after all. I guess those diehard fans overseas are willing to pay a little more (especially in Australian dollars).

Much more fun than the Stella for Target range was the Alice McCall for Target range. I picked up a silk cami in a really cute print IN MY SIZE marked down to $20! I also love my Alba Fan Club skinny jeans - just $15 each from the Jeans West outlet store. Normally I don't go to Jeans West but hey - maybe the good stuff doesn't sell to their usual customers!

Good lord. I'm even more Gen Y now - Kathy made me get a myspace page. It seems like a network for stalkers to me. I mean, aren't you just putting yourself out there for identity theft? Ha - I am fooling them all by pretending I'm a 60cm body builder. No one will ever realise my true identity.

Latest guilty pleasures - this TV show that's on around midnight on Channel 7 on Tuesdays, called Life As We Know It. The Sunday Times Magazine. Shop Til You Drop magazine. Internet dating!!!

I am now a fully-fledged member of Generation Y (yes, the cusp of the group lies on the 80-81 birth year). I bought an iPod. It is a reward/incentive for going to the gym. I love its streamlined design and simple packaging. When I was living in London, Pete "the Fork: Lau (Dave's older brother) and I visited the Design Museum, which was displaying the 5 finalists of some 2003 European design awards. One of the finalist was the designer of iMac, iPods and various other Apple products. Another finalist was the team that designed GTA 2: Vice City. The other entries, some doilies, jewellery and vases or some other arty stuff, couldn't compete. Who needs beauty for beauty's sake when you can combine beautiful form with outstanding function?

There are minimal instructions, evidently geared toward the plug-and-play generation who wouldn't bother to read lengthy manuals. They'd much rather search for help online when it's required. (I'm like this myself - when I'm feeling too "lazy" to ask someone else for help. This has been a problem a couple of times when my web access wasn't working especially as I don't even have a hard copy of the white pages. How to ask for help when your only medium for help is the that thing that you need help to use?)

All by myself...

When I was young, I never needed anyone, and making love was just for fun...

I have a housemate now! We haven't hung out much because I've been working so much (and sleeping when I'm at home). So far I haven't noticed any problems.

Where I do notice problems is in my payslips! This is an ongoing problem that was not solved when the hospital outsourced our pay. Every fortnight it seems that I have to phone up and say, "I just have a few queries about my pay period ending..." I don't need to explain my queries; the person on the other end of the phone makes some busy noises (murmuring, shuffling paper, keystrokes, etc) then will make an announcement along the lines of, "Oh, it appears that you weren't paid for 6 hours that you worked that week. Would you like me to rectify that?" or, "It seems that they've tried to reduce the amount of penalties they're paying you by shifting some of you penalty-loaded hours into the overtime-loading category - would you like me to pay the extra penalties you deserve." As far as I can tell, these are stupid questions for them to be asking. Why do I bother?

Because I'm worth it. (Although I really can't be arsed to colour my hair, Milla Jovovich.)

Two constancies in life that provide comfort: video clips on weekend mornings and The Simpsons on weekdays at six.

Happy Australia Day.

My Australia Day, 2007, began in the Emergency Department. Yes, I was working on Australia Day. The last 3 hours of my 10-hour shift were after midnight. How un-Australian is that? Not as un-Australian as the fact that I'm returning to the same ED in 2 hours' time, undoubtedly to fix up more victims of Australia Day drunken violence, drunken accidents and drunken drunkeness. My favourite Australia Day ED story was from a med school colleague who treated a guy whose mullet was set on fire on the train home from the Skyshow. Now that's Australian.

Also quite Australian (albeit circa 1978) - my neighbours. My new apartment building has a swimming pool on the ground floor (next to the gym, sauna, etc.) and I've been enjoying it on these sweltering summer days, swimming laps, inviting friends around and...enjoying the scenery? That's right, there's a plague of topless sunbathers, and not just the hairy, overweight male type, if you get my drift. One of the pool rules calls for "appropriate attire" but this is open to interpretation, I guess. Most astonishing was one girl this week who had oiled her breasts. She was basting in the 35+ degree heat, glistening nipples pointing at the sun. If my breasts are self-saucing puddings, then hers are certainly fried eggs (not that her nipples were yolk-coloured). Whenever I tell people this story, they always ask, did she have nice breasts? Well, of course, otherwise I would have told her to put on some clothes.

Yesterday was my birthday. I was cruelly stripped of my adolescent status as I joined the "26-40" age bracket. On Saturday night I saw the Plump DJs with Katherine and David. The set was average but the night was fun (as I had been missing my Kathy so) and full of alcohol. We shuffled off to bed around 5am. I awoke around 6.30am when my alarm went off. I felt dreadful. Abdominal cramps and strong waves of nausea. Oh no, I thought, for my birthday I've gotten a hangover. I'd always been told that those would come with age. I realise now that I was not hungover but that I was still drunk. Thank goodness. I am still young.

My friend Scotty wonders if, in the future, blogging will become a new feature of the DSM criteria (the diagnostic manual for psychiatric disorders). Where once we kept diaries filled with our innermost thoughts, hidden under the bed or locked with a miniscule padlock, today we proudly proclaim our insecurities and flaunt our insanity online for the whole world to read. Maybe it's therapeutic to get things off our chests and to think that somebody on the other side of the globe could be affected in some way by our musings. Even so, do we really want our really want our friends, parents, bosses or lovers knowing about our perceived inadequacies and crazy tendencies? Is it really the modern-day equivalent of the soapbox or worse - standing on busy street corners in a sandwich board with a megaphone, announcing the demise of ourselves?

My friend Dave tells me that I shouldn't drink alone. That's another story.