How not to live your life.

Hello avid readers, kitty here. I realise it has been a fair while since my last post, but rest assured there is good reason for my absence. During this hiatus I have been spent my time observing Katie in preparation for this blog which I have entitled 'What Not to Do if You Want to Be Happy'. Over the past year or two I have watched Katie make a few misguided decisions which I will now share with you in the hope that you, our beloved readers, do not repeat her mistakes.

What Not to Do if You Want to Be Happy

• Do not move out of home and become so absorbed in maintaining a troubled relationship that you alienate yourself from a large proportion of your friends. You might need these friends in the future when your entire life turns to shit.
• Do not rely solely on friendships, which while extremely important and worthwhile at the time, can be lost in the blink of an eye as a result of external forces. For example:
  
• Do not form extremely important friendships with the siblings of your soon-t0-be-ex because no matter how close you are, when you break up with him everything will change and you will miss them very, very much.
• Do not form extremely important relationships with people who happen to be married. Do not look for father figures in people who aren't you father. Do not rely on these people as mentors, confidants, or valuable sources of support. You never know if/when they will have to cease all contact with you. It may be a few days after you break up with your partner of 4 years and really, really need their help.
• Do not become extremely attached to your future-ex-partner's family. You will find that when you can't see them any more (although anatomically impossible) it literally feels like your heart is being trodden on every time you think about them.
  
• Do not distract yourself from grief by getting drunk and partying as much as possible. When your immune system fails and you get glandular fever you will really regret it.
• Do not get glandular fever when you have no money saved and have to move home to your parents because you can't work to pay your bills.
• Do not move home to your lonely mother who craves your attention and time to the extent that you feel guilty for enjoying what little social life you still have.

So there you have it lovely readers, some unfortunate scenarios to avoid if you want to be happier than Katie.

And When did You Last See Your Father? (2008)

So, the other day I went on an adventure to find the place where my father killed himself..

This is where my adventures led. A tiny little outhouse behind a real estate agents office in Ardross. It wasn't a shock. I mean, I was told since I was a kid that he died in a toilet (although I was initially told that he "accidentally took too much medicine and fell and bumped his head on the door").

On the whole it was a much more disturbing experience than I had expected. It probably wouldn't have been so traumatic if it hadn't have been the middle of the day with people around watching me trespassing into a dodgy toilet block. There was even someone in the adjoining cubicle so I had to run in, take the photo and run out. I was worried the people that work in the estate agents would yell at me.

I must admit, actually finding the place raised a lot more questions than it answered.
The main one, of course, being "why there?"
I asked my Boss about my question and he said "Why anywhere?" I though that was quite a good answer.

Anyhoo.. If you'd like to check it out for yourself, here's a photo of the real estate agency (on the left, behind the white car)!
Kearns Cresent, Ardoss, right near the intersection of Risely St and Canning Hwy.

So, it's been over a year since I last wrote my last blog entry. Looking back on what Kitty and I have written makes me wonder if we were on some kind of drug bender that has since been completely lost from memory. I can't imagine being in the frame of mind to have written what I wrote.
A lot of things have changed since then. Apart from the cold house and the dishes in the sink (new dishes, mind you) pretty much everything is different - the most relevant being my willingness to sit here and write a blog. When I tried to figure out why I have become so opposed to the idea, all I could come up with was "every thing's more private now." It seems life's problems have become a tad more serious than being unable to find a clean teaspoon. I could write for days but it wouldn't be amusing and it wouldn't be appropriate.
Just thought I'd throw that out there.

PS: I do capital letters now.

as seen on myspace! katie's first blog in months.

i just made a cup of coffee using a fork instead of a teaspoon.

so... it's exam time once again. which means everything around you turns to shit. everything except, hopefully, your study habits.
living away from home at exam time is extra super fun, and this exam period is the third that sean and i have shared in our lovely little home.
our cold, cold home.
our
cold.
dark.
old.
cold.
messy.
flipping cold.
home.
technically my last exam was on saturday afternoon, but alas, seans continue this week, and i am too much of a wreck to get around to cleaning the house. i honestly planned to do it today but i was too exhausted to do anything. come to think of it i didn't even shower today. i will have one before i go to bed, i swear.
the house isn't that messy. but the kitchen is messy enough to put you off preparing food. that, and the fact that there are no clean dishes or spoons (hence, i had to resort to using a fork to make my coffee). In another example, I bought a bunch of celery today and some low-fat peanut butter, which i had planned to combine into a delicious snack. buuuttt, that would've required finding a clean plate AND knife, NOT TO MENTION finding/cleaning/clearing space on the bench for a chopping board AND washing the celery in the tiny sink that is full of dirty dishes.
not to worry! being the spawn of possibly the most practical family in the world that i am, (for them, practicality outweighs everything; aesthetics, price, fashion, personality and even relationships and love [but we won't go there]) i decided to eat my peanut butter from the jar with my finger.
the celery is still in the fridge.

i totally understand if you don't want to be friends with me any more.
IT'S COOL.
alternatively you could come over and do the dishes for me.
x

so, kitty doesnt like fish.

kitty doesn't like eating fish. i don't know why but i've never been able to get him to eat it.
he got into a big fight the other
day. sean and i were sitting in the study when we heard what sounded like a grunting pig, or perhaps warthog, which we know is the sound of an angry possum (yes, possums actually sound like grunting pigs, they don't make like "tck tck tck" noises, or, dental clicks (like skippy the bush kangaroo) for those who are linguistically educated (such as myself (i can do the bracket thing too, shaun mayze .).) closely followed by a stampede of small footsteps, the screech of a cat and the loud thud of something jumping on/under/into our house (we couldn't really tell).
kitty came home an hour or so later with tufts of his fur hanging out of his coat and looking very miserable. we are yet to find the possums body (kitty always wins).
so, this is not a rare occurrence really. for example, there is an ugly grey cat that lives across the road and he is always over here picking fights with kitty. it only dawned on us today that maybe kitty gets so much hass (that's hassle for those that aren't down with the hip lingo) is because he doesn't eat fish, and therefore isn't seen by the other cats (which i like to refer to as his "crew" - despite the fact that they have repeatedly assaulted him, and clearly hate him.) as a real man (or cat-man).
so kitty would waltz over to his crew, who reek of fish (they really are a grotusque mob of hooligans), and be all like "what's up my homies?" and they'd be all like "sif be talking to us like that, coles brand meat and liver chunk boy! get some fish in ya!" and then he'd be all like "it's my missus, she don't buy me none of that fish goodness, know what i'm saying yall?" and then they'd be like "...he's a racist, let's get him" and then he'd be like "i'm black, suckas!" and then he'd beat them all up.
it would probably be a lot easier for him to just eat the fish. not to mention fish is 20c cheaper per can.

louise is the moon and i dance beneath her.

so i might be going away for a while...

i'm being exiled on account of i killed a bird.. again.
we've already been through the issues i have with the inequality between members of the rodent and bird families, so i won't go there. let me just say that next time you find a dead rat lying in the grass i don't want your praise. i may be a murderer but you're nothing but a speciesist. that's right.

can i also add in my defence, coles brand meat and liver chunks taste like crap. sometimes i don't know why i even stick around here. they should be thankful that i go to all the trouble of eating doves, rather than simply finding better owners.

so, like i said, i might not be on here for a while. stay tuned and hopefully i'll be back soon enough to thwart the pending flood of katie-blog's. because, lets face it, hers are shit.

so kitty is a murderer.

i found a beheaded dove in the garden today. yes, another one.
it was placed, ever so sneakily, around the side of the garage where no one goes.
.. unfortunately for kitty the trail of grey feathers was a dead giveaway (pardon the pun).
this all took place no longer than an hour after i walked all the way to coles to buy him some food, after he meowed angrily at me all morning.
kitty is an ungrateful turd.

so i like eating rats whole...

i got in trouble today for spying on a little bird that was in the shade house.
hunting rats is ok, but it can get a bit monotonous.
apparently birds have some special right to life that rats and mice don't share.
... i killed a bird once. a dove.
i left his head and half a wing on the door mat.
i got in trouble, but it was worth it. he totally had it coming.

so my fingers are magic..

do your fingers ever type words that are completely different to what you actually intended to type?
i know mine do. sometimes i think i should really record all the accidentally typed words, just in case they spell out some secret message from god, or perhaps my subconscious.