Saturday, 20 December 2008

Abra Cadabra Alakazam! DeT is BAAAAAACK! Snacktastic!

Good news! I'm back.

Bad news...I've forgotten how to blog.

So how are we all? Getting laid? Enjoying new perfumes? 
Watching My Family? Actually, on that note who currently has my My Family DVDs??


Uganda is lovely but I want to go shopping at David Jones!!
I want a Vogue subscription.
And sushi!

AND! Good pavement so I don't ruin my heels. Where's the pavement?
I wore my heels once and they got all dirty. *sniffles*
Shoes aren't meant to get dirty! Dear God! Never again!
They shall be resigned to my closet until M7 either paves the roads or hell freezes over.

Now, story time, I'm supposed to write something interesting if I remember right...which I probably don't.
I'm pretty sure blog posts aren't just supposed to be whinging about pavement.

Last month the Landlady's fifteen year old relative of some sort came-a-knocking.
It went something like this:

DeT: Hello.
Boy: Hello.
DeT: (wising he'd bugger off).
Boy: Do you want to be saved by Jesus.
DeT: (didn't realise I needed saving, I'm not on death row, no need to go around petitioning Jesus to save me) Erm...
Boy: What country are you from?
DeT: Australia.
Boy: What religion is Australia?
DeT: (avoids giving Boy long lecture on Australia's immigration and religious standing) Muslim (lying through teeth).
Boy: (completely falls for it)
DeT: But actually I'm Catholic (still lying through teeth, most likely Protestant if was anything, CoE.)
Boy: You want Jesus to save your soul so you can go to Heaven! Yes?
DeT: (Of course not, are you completely insane?!?!?! I'm not going to Heaven if you're going to be there!!!!) Erm...possibly.
Boy: (frowns) Possibly?
DeT: (shrugs)
Boy: Can I pray for you?
DeT: (Not one to turn down a free prayer for self) Sure, if it makes you happy.
Boy: (waltzes into house, places hands either side of my head) You have to close your eyes.
DeT: (closes eyes)
Boy: (prays very loudly in Luganda and clicking his fingers next to my ear every few seconds)
DeT: (opens eyes slightly)
Boy: (prays loudly)
DeT: (watches boy, shoulders start shaking, tries not to giggle)
Boy: (opens eyes, pauses) You have to keep your eyes closed.
DeT: (closes eyes, though Boy shouldn't have had his eyes open to notice my eyes open. Bad Boy)
Boy: (finishes prayer) Sorry for not praying in English.
DeT: No problem. I can't pray in Russian.
Boy: (stares, looks confused) Tonight you will have a dream and Jesus will come to you and he will tell you how to solve all your problems.
DeT: (bites lip, nods with serious expression)
Boy: Write down your dream and I'll come back and help you understand it.
DeT: (nods) Yes, absolutely! Thank you. Great praying.
Boy: (nods, smiles) I'll see you soon, bye. (buggers off)

I did have a dream.
My dead cat Fluffy was at the Fairfield RSPCA and my Mum found her there and brought her home.
Which I think means that Jesus is trying to contact me to say he's been born again and is trapped as a cat in a pound.


Friday, 17 October 2008


*cough* so...maybe one of you could let us know personally next time? When is the next BHH? The 30th? And yes, sorry, but honestly people! antipop you whore, how could you have managed to not even mention it!!

Saturday, 11 October 2008

Heard of Hygiene?

Guess where I am...can you guess? Let me give you a hint, there are some fucking ugly birds flying overhead...


I'm not going to get sick of this place, even though there is some small spot of dirt on my skirt!! How dare this country dirty my clothes!!! Where's my bomb got to?!?!?! Other than that horrifically huge shortcoming this place is COOOOOL. I'm so never leaving...okay so I am at some point going to have to go home, you know what relatives can be like.

Overall impressions of Uganda: Freaking Motherfucking Awesome!! I'm becoming an illegal immigrant.

Whoever said this country is hot is fucking lying whore.

I'm racist. Every time I see another White person I get quite irritated, mainly because they're either all over 40 or fat, wobbly, sweat covered and bright red with dirty hair!!! You there, White person, HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!!! What kind of representation is that?? I'm ashamed to be associated with you people! Where the fuck is your hair brush? Shampoo? Conditioner? Sunscreen? Beetroot is only an acceptable shade when it's over 40c. And what the hell are you wearing? You would never be seen dead in those clothes back home!! Don't you understand that when you go overseas you are representing your country, culture and people? Don't shame me by going outside with three weeks of dirt caked to your hair! You disgust me! Stop wasting your money on those beggars and go buy some fucking soap!

I'm seeing Antipop this afternoon....I feel so honoured.

Sunday, 5 October 2008


Where prehistoric birds adorn lamp posts, where Antipop is President and where Dreadlocked Communists and Bald Children roam, free range, across the country side...

To the magical land of Uganda I come.

Someone owes me a drink.

Friday, 3 October 2008

Fun Times!

I have Glandular Fever.

It sucks.

For people asking, I leave on Sunday midnight (Monday) and arrive on Tuesday afternoon.


Poor Dark Night, I forced him all the way to Wikipedia to discover what Glandular Fever is...sucker :-)

Glandular Fever is Infectious mononucleosis, also known as Pfeiffer's disease, mono, in that dumb country (USA), all the intelligent people call it Glandular Fever.

It has various symptoms, of those these are the pesky ones I have:

Fever—this varies, but is seen in nearly all cases.
Enlarged and tender lymph nodes—particularly the posterior cervical lymph nodes.
Sore throat—White patches on the tonsils and back of the throat are often seen
(Yes there are white patches, I got my torch and shone it down my throat and was like "Ewwwwwwwww what the fuck is that??" I even got a cotton tip to see if the white stuff could be scraped can't. I'm pissed. MY TONSILS ARE TURNING WHITE!!! What the fuck do they think they're doing?? I AM ALREADY WHITE!!! To my Tonsils: You can't turn white, we're already white and you are not, under any circumstances allowed to pull a Michael Jackson!!!!)
Aching muscles (On Monday I couldn't actually move, or at least I got to the couch and then couldn't get up again)
Loss of appetite (Well there goes that Ugandan weight, sorry Carlo)
Dizziness or disorientation (Not fun to have in the city)
Inability to swallow, due to enlarged tonsils (Can I have a bucket please?)
Dry cough (This list just got boring)

I know who gave this to me too, it was Ginger...I mean I knew she didn't want me to go very much but this is evil. My hat's off to you! Wish I'd thought of this when my friend left, could have made them stay for ages longer. But no cigar my dear, I'm going anyway, I'll just not be allowed to kiss anyone until it's gone, so two weeks - a few months. I'm sorry Chanel, looks like we'll have to post-pone our date.

@Kakaire: My paws are greasier than yours.

Tuesday, 30 September 2008


I've started a company. It's called DeTamble Exports. My first job is to export myself.

I leave on Sunday.

Apart from that I've been busy these past few weeks, hence the lack of posts.

My friend Amber came to visit. She, I and Michael went over to Bee's inner-city apartment (very sexy!) and ate chocolate hash cake and watched Alien, spent the whole time making crude jokes about it too and wishing there was more nudity! When the movie was over Amber said she wanted to watch porn and so we went to the porn shop near the Teddy Bear shop on the next street. We spent an hour there. We bought a gay German porno called...erm...actually I don't remember what it was called. We also got this real old school one called Every Inch A Lady, that was awesome! It was like a whole fucking movie! I've never seen such an intense plot on a porno before!! There was a three DVDs for the price of two so we also got one called Amberella. My friends tend to call me Ella alot, what can I say, Australians have an obsession with shortening names. So a porno with Amber and Ella in it. We had to have it!!

It was good but I freaked out whilst watching it because a) it was old porn and the girls obviously never heard of trimming and b) neither had the guys and c) remind me to NEVER EVER EVER let a guy with a moustache go down on me! NO FUCKING WAY!!! It looks gross!!! Get your filthy yeti lip away from my pussy!

I finished my last shift at work last Sunday. All done! YAY! I was going to burn my work shirt but instead I had people sign it :-) inlcuding a customer.

The past few months I've been sick on and off, it's been a fucking nuisance!! Back in March I lost about 4 kg in two weeks...illness does not become me in the slightest. July 2007 I got this horrific bout of influenza and it just keeps coming back. So I went to the doctor three months ago for some injections (for Uggy Land) and she measured and weighed me and said that I needed to gain some weight. She said it would be a very wise idea to gain about three to five kgs otherwise if I got sick, malaria or something else that I have never had, then I'd at least have some spare pudge. Apparently the last thing you want is to get sick and already be on the lowest BMI. So I put on some weight....and I didn't have to pay a cent to do it! My Mum when all Motherly on my arse!!

"Ohh my Baby is leaving me, let me feed you!!" And so she did. And I ate. And now I'm fat*. And my Doctor is somewhat proud of me :-)

Now all that was fun but the best thing I did was last Friday. I was in the city and there was a group of Aboriginal dancers there from the Yuggera tribe and I was watching them, along with a couple of hundred other people and one of the guys came over and asked me to go dance with them. So I did. I dumped my shoes and bag with their stuff and went and danced.


Thursday, 11 September 2008

The Real Land of The Free, Do You Hear Me

CB Disclaimer: This post may offend some people and is sure to diverge from its original point and go down the ranting path. It will be long, most of you will drop off like starving refugees along the way and are unlikely to reach the end.*

…I actually intended this post to tell Comrade not to compare Indigenous crime rates with that of South Africa or an American ghetto but already I’m going to deviate from the point and write something else.

We came here in chains, as animals, bitter, angry, frightened, the hated scum of another place. Slaves under another name. That’s what we were and that’s how we treated you.

We brought our diseases and consequently killed over half your families.

We tried to survive in a place considered akin to hell. The flies, the dust, the suffocating heat, no rain, no water, no food and with the brutality of the place where we were born we used you and killed you.

That’s what our society had taught us, take and destroy. Remember to pillage before you burn.

Collectively I guess we moved on, or some of us did. I know there are still places that are racist, homophobic and sexist, like Townsville. But it seems, to me, looking back, that we, the White migrants, learnt some compassion, developed a sense of humanity, realised that it is wrong to treat others as less than yourself based on something as insignificant as your skin tone.

I don’t know where I’m going with this, it’s weird to talk about. It is taboo.

I want to say I’m sorry for the actions of my ancestors. I’m sorry we took your land without asking. I’m sorry we treated you so badly. I’m sorry that so many migrants, White or not find it so hard to look you in the eye when we pass you in the street. I’m sorry so many of us are afraid to talk to you. I’m sorry that we continue to follow misconceptions without asking for the truth.

When I was younger I wondered if I could leave, go back to Europe, one less person living on land that is not theirs. But that is silly. It would make me immensely unhappy and solves nothing. This is my home, Australia is where I was born, it’s where I’ve grown up and it is the place I love more than anywhere else. This is the country of my citizenship, I have no where else. This is me. I am Australian and when you leave, your country means all the more to you. When you’re gone and you meet someone else from your home, no matter how fleeting the relationship is, that person will have an innate and almost complete understanding of you. It’s a shared history, a shared humour, we know the same sounds, same tastes, same smells, we know the intricacies of our culture.

Our history is shameful and I have felt ashamed in the presence of Indigenous Australians. I am Irish Australian and my white skin speaks for me, it tells you where my ancestors are from, it screams hundreds and hundreds of years of unacceptable cruelty. Black people say we put them down, made them feel less than animals, slaughtered them and it’s true. But through all that you were never in the wrong. Wait till you open a history book and realise that every single thing in there is White people senselessly and horrifically killing anyone who wasn’t White enough. All that pain and suffering caused by people you’re so obviously related to. No wonder White people don’t want to look at their history, it’s pure hatred and violence. I don’t want to look at an Indigenous Australian and know that someone from my past killed or raped or beat someone from their family. And so for years I hung my head in shame when ever I walked past any Indigenous person. I couldn’t look at them, the guilt was too much, I didn’t want to acknowledge it.

I shouldn’t feel ashamed though. Just because my skin is White doesn’t make me a bad person and though my ancestors did terrible things to humanity doesn’t mean I have to follow them and I shouldn't make other people, however unintentionally, feel ashamed of who they are. So for once as I passed an Aboriginal lady in the city I smiled at her, instead of looking away like everyone else was doing. She looked so shocked and I felt as shocked as she looked, my heart was beating wildly, I was worried she would dislike the fact that I had so obviously taken notice of her, since it isn’t normal here, I didn’t know what the reaction would be but I worried needlessly. For a few moments she just looked shocked and then she smiled back, it was a huge smile, hell, it wasn’t even a smile it was a massive grin! And I loved every second of it!

Screw feeling guilty and ashamed. I accept that the country Australia has a terrible history but it is history, don’t make it the present. Move forward. Don’t follow the stereotype. It doesn’t matter if you’re Indigenous Australian, German Australian, Sri Lankan Australian, Malaysian Australian, Ugandan Australian or Irish Australian, we’re all Australian, we all matter and we should treat each other with respect. Mostly we all went through a lot of crap to be here too, the Indigenous put up with terrible treatment and most of the migrants came as prisoners or fleeing starvation, war or corruption. If it isn’t enough for Australians to treat each other the same simply for being Australian then the fact that we ALL have grandparents who suffered for us to be here should be enough.

*Country Boyi disclaimer, though the post didn’t reach the length nor did it step on as many toes as I intended, I’m leaving the disclaimer anyway. In fact this post totally deviated from my original plan. But I realised you can read facts and figures in the history books, Blogs are for the feeling behind the statistic.

Up there, that girl is Samantha Harris. She is fucking gorgeous. Sorry Comrade, I can no longer marry you, I’m afraid Brothers GUG and WildeY will have to go without their cows and cars because I’m marrying an Aboriginal so I can have a kid who looks like her. Plus there is no better way to find peace, merge so there is no one left to blame ;-)

Thursday, 4 September 2008

To Bathe and Beyond!

A new family moved in downstairs. A Mum and two kids, the kids don't go to school cause they are too cool! Just like I was. I didn't go to school properly, ie. more than term here and there, until I was 13. But this really has nothing to do with anything except that I found some photos and I'm going to put them up here.


This was my old room, no proper walls so I plasticed them up and stuck some entertainment on them...yes, that is my school hat.

I used to sneak out that door and go sleep with the Lithuanian boy next door ;-)

This is my back yard...the chickens be long gone :-(

And this is my Fire Bath. You fill it with water, light a fire underneath it and when the water is hot you put the fire out, get in and lie around naked in the sun. It's heaven.

Not that you can see but the fire is in the shape of a tortoise. Sorry about the crappy pictures but I was naked when taking them (shock, horror) and I couldn't be bothered going down in the yard to take a good picture.

Cassiopeia. We gave her away, thank God, I'm so sick of pets!

Tuesday, 2 September 2008

Happy Centenary!!

This is my 100th post.

I wanted my 100th post to be a happy one, or something special, to celebrate 100 times of extreme time wasting on Blogger.

But instead my hundredth post will be this:

You and I, GUG, are no longer friends. I will never speak to you again. I can't block you from my Blog but I will not be going to yours ever again. If you show face here or in my inbox you will be ignored. Princess and I have put up with you mistreating us for too long and for me this is officially the end. Don't think this is done out of anger though, sure it contains a small amount of spite and vengeance but there is no anger here. Not even annoyance, simply cold calculation and my conclusion is that you are not the sort of person I want to know.

Sorry Princess, for dragging you into this, but you're not online to consult with right now and frankly I've had enough. I'm cutting him off and I am sorry that you'll most likely get caught in the middle.

I am aware that this is taking things to far but that's just too bad.

See, he and I were joking around yesterday, a continuation of that Comrade thing he started in response to Petesmama's kwanjula post. As usual it was amusing but apparently I was not my usual feisty self, he was right, I was being restrained. So I made an effort to give him what he wanted, despite my better judgement and I told him exactly what I thought and things stopped being so funny.

In case you were not aware GUG is marrying me off, as his little sister, to Comrade. I'm totally cool with it, even though in essence he is selling me to Comrade. But since I actually like Comrade I really don't mind either way. All was fine until I wanted to know how much he reckoned I was worth (50 cows and two cars). But instead I was told that "Women are not supposed to talk money. Or possessions. It is, err, demeaning to womanhood". And this is where it got nasty and stopped being a joke.

He had either not read the signals that stated this was not a topic I wanted to discuss or he was just pushing me on purpose because that's something he seems to like to do. So GUG, this is an absolutely non-joking, non-sarcastic version of what I said, since you didn't get it the first time around.

And just so you know, I am no feminist. Feminism pisses me off, too extreme, overbearing machoness also pisses me off. I loath seeing men or women throwing their weight around claiming to be better than the other sex for whatever brilliant reasons they've come up with.

The middle way is generally best.

So when I'm being told that because I am a girl I am not allowed to do something, think something, say something, that's hardly going to sit well with me. I would NEVER tell a boy that he is not allowed to do something because he is a man. I would not exclude someone based on gender. I would not stoop so low as to presume that based simply upon someones gender that I know better than them or even have some kind of right to tell them what to do.

And GUG you're right, I've forgotten the difference between us. Or maybe I never knew it in the first place. Because the only difference I see is that I'm from a generation that has complete sexual equality and sees no point in raising one sex above the other in any situation.

Also GUG, I do understand, you're not speaking in code, I can understand you. But just because I understand you does not mean I agree with you.

And yes, I was a little harsh and said that his customs were sexist but most customs are either sexist or just plain stupid. Like eating chocolate on Easter. Or everyone following Coca Cola's Santa unquestioningly. And yes, everyone is entitled to their own opinion and in my opinion GUG is hypocritical. When someone whinges and whines about being treated as less than human because of their sexuality, something you have no control over and then turns around and declares, even jokingly, that because I'm a girl I just don't have the same rights as a boy, that is being hypoctritical.

And in that case GUG, if, as a woman, my place is on my knees before a man, then your place, as a homosexual, is prison.

In other words, I'm tired of your bitching and I'm tired of you imposing your 'male rights' on me. I'm tired of your complete disregard for mine and Princess' feelings and I don't like the way you come crawling back all apologies and sweetness and then hurt us all over again.

And one last thing, this was never about Africa. This was about your personal need to show how manly you are by putting others down. And you're right, I won't be googling African Women because this is not about African women, this really has nothing to do with Africa anything. It's simply that whether being serious or joking it's not acceptable to put an entire group beneath you just so you can feel better. And I'm not going delving into your past posts, so if you have written posts about how wonderful women are that makes what you said even worse.

Of course maybe you just really dumb, or maybe you just like to play with people or maybe you're just not that great at reading social situations and you often tend to accidentally go too far.

I don't know and I don't really care but I do not surround myself with people who are sexist or racist and I would be stupid to continue to hang around you when for almost the exact same reason I have cut contact with other friends.

GUG, you are no longer welcome here.

Monday, 1 September 2008

Everyday White Trash

I showed up at work today and was presented with a...a...OH GOD IT WAS AWFUL!!!

They gave me a white cap to wear that said 'Everyday Money' on it. See, Woolies, yes, I am ashamed, I work at Woolies. That platypus killing, bush destroying, evil corporate, selfish, bastardised, community fucking, slavery riding, profit scamming, hell hole dictatorship they call a business. And this business, like Tomas de Torquemada in green, has made their very own credit card. Hence the cap, not only do we have to use our head as advertising space but we're also supposed to ask every single customer if they would like one of these debt inducing Everyday Money credit cards. Of course I did not ask a single person. I do have morals you know!!

But this cap. It's huge. And I was seething about having to wear it. I don't do caps. Do I look like a stupid cap wearing gangsta to you? No, I didn't think so! In fact I had to stop hanging out with those Zimbabweans because their constant cap usage was tarnishing my otherwise impeccable reputation. I can't be seen with people who wear caps. By the way, Comrade, if you dare to wear a cap in my presence you can bet your black squashy nose you will be punched. Don't. Tempt. Me.

I was sulking. Hardcore. About this crap-reputation-image-damaging cap I was being forced to wear. I spent two full hours sulking until one of the girls I work with, who didn't have to wear one because she isn't a checkout bitch like me, said it looked like it could be a truckie cap. So I made the horn sign and she cracked up, which made me slightly happier. Only slightly mind. Wazza came by and made some stupid gangsta joke. I pulled some dumb gang sign and said 'sup nigga with one of the stupid pouts they put on when they try to look cool. And then it came to me, something to make me happy. I'm a gonna steal that stupid cap, cross out money and write White Trash instead.

Sunday, 31 August 2008

KT - Hay gurl Do u kno what, i was thinking it wuld b such a shame if didn spend atleast 1 night 2getha hay

11:43:59am 29th/08/2008

Why did I just find this in my drafts and who is KT??

Saturday, 30 August 2008

Mateos From My Floor

Literally five minutes ago Uganda was on the tv. There I was sitting on the floor in front of the couch and this ad came on for a program called Family Footsteps (7:30pm Thursday ABC).

So the ad starts with this crowded road full of Africans and I went "Hey Mum, look, UGANDA!!"
And she glares at me for disturbing the peace and asks how I know. I shrug. Haven't got a clue how I knew. I just did. And I was bloody right to! As the ad progresses and they stop showing Ugandan infested roads the voice over comes on and "Blah blah, Uganda, blah." And I smile, radiating smugness for knowing it was Uganda after a split second.

It continues to show this half Ugandan man who left for Australia when he was three years old and blah blah blah and you'll never guess what happened next :P

I bounced right off the floor, pointing out the tv and practically screeched to my Mother, "look, LOOK! It's Mateos!!!" LOOOK MUM!!!! LOOK!!"

Anyway, apart from the fact that I'm a fucking genius for picking out Uganda in a split second out of all the possible African countries it could have been, I bought my tickets.

And Antipop, I'll get my hands on another season of My Family for you, so you better frickin have access to a tv etc.

Comrade, I have Kundun, Amelie and Hey Hey It's Esther Blueburger for your veiwing pleasure.

Thursday, 28 August 2008

Drugged to Delirium

*crawls pitifully back to Blogger*

Sorry. Been away. Been dying. Had a psycho bout of influenza. I won't tell you about it but suffice to say it was so bad I called Him up and cried into the phone and asked if he could swing by and kill me. End my miserable suffering. Most of the time I was so weak I couldn't even get out of bed.

Moving on now :D

A couple of months ago I managed to slam my head so hard into a door, no, don't ask what I was doing, I broke my nose. Thankfully it's barely noticeable. Second time I've broken it actually. First time my best-friend's sister slammed a baseball bat in the my face. Nose is still in centre. Looks normal. Feels sore. Aches. Still got a red tinge to the skin, like slight sunburn. Doctor says it will fade within a couple more months and so should my headaches, and Doctor is right because both have already subsided.

I'm back now. Tell you fun stuff on my next post.

Sleep well.

And remember the golden rule, if you're being bitten by fleas at night, kill one and the rest will go to its funeral.

Wednesday, 6 August 2008

I Always Wanted To Be A Child Soldier

I used to have a rule about not dating anyone with brown eyes. Casual sex with a brown eyed person was fine but emotional attachment was not. With emotional attachment comes that remote and horrific possibility of a child and I decided long ago that if I had to have one of those irritating, sticky, wanting, needy, grasping, money thieving disgustoids in human form that it would be one with blue eyes.

Yes, I do understand the colloquial meaning of shallow.

I have a thing for blue eyes, I also have a thing for dark, curly red hair, but that's beside the point. If you took a look at my line of previous boyfriends the term, Aryan Race, might spring to mind. As a child I even had a thing for the Hitler Youth. Well, the cute ones from WWII movies, not the actual ones, the real Hitler Youth's hair was always too short, I thought they frowned too much and the pictures of them were always black and white and grainy. Not acceptable for a pin up.

So there I was, dating an Aryan boy, he was so white he was practically translucent and I was happy in the knowledge that if things fucked up and I didn't want to abort then at least the brat would be a blue eyed brat. Obviously by cutting out brown eyed people from my dating range that included every race that is not Caucasian and every Caucasian that is not blue eyed. One of my friends said that was totally racist but actually it isn't racist, it's race related, but not racist.

My Mother has always wanted a grandchild. She had a plan for me that involved children, amongst other things and since I wanted to please her I went along with it. All our family had blue eyes, until my generation, all my cousins have brown eyes, except me and my Mother always thought it would be sad if I didn't continue on the blue eyes, so I went along with that specification too. In fact I went along with pretty much everything she wanted but frankly Aryan boys, as cute as I think they may be, are not for me. Though I do really like blue eyes and think they are very pretty what I really like are Japanese boys, boys with turbans, Sri Lankan boys, Maori boys and Eastern and Southern African boys.

Of course I'd never say no to a good looking German, Serbian or New Zealand boy, but I think that may have more to do with their kick-arse accent!

Don't want to dissapoint my Mother though by giving her a brown eyed baby, so I'll call a compromise and give her no baby. So now Blogren, let us raise our glasses and toast to NO evil, manipulative, minature DeTambles slutting themselves around the place!


Bakashaba Ruhanga Owomwiguru Kubahereza Yabahereza DeTamble

Thursday, 31 July 2008

To Comrade, Wishing You Were Here.

I was once told by a boy, as I lay under him, naked from the waist up, beneath a fig tree, that I was one of the most open girls he had ever met.

I was once told by a boy who loved me more than any other that I am the original, raw description of a free spirit.

I don't know how right they are but I'm taking it as a compliment.

I don't know anything about being open or a free spirit.

Sounds complicated.

Sounds challenging.

I try to avoid hurting myself, though that does not detract from openness or being free.

I try to avoid hurting others, that does detract from openness and being free.

All I know is that I do things that make me happy, that make me laugh, that make me smile, that involve real emotions and don't leave me feeling empty and shallow or used.

All I know is that I live my life by one rule. Always Get What You Want*. It has served me well these past two decades, it has never let me down and strangely enough life rarely ever disappoints me.

*Never Want Anything You Can't Have.

Friday, 25 July 2008

God Fuck All Communists!

As you may have noticed I have been posting utter crap of late. I mean really, have you noticed the shit I've put up here? Even I'm disturbed by just how bad the posts have been. I'm afraid I haven't got it in me to write properly these days.

I keep composing long political posts but I never want to post them because something is missing. So instead I feel guilty about not posting in over a week, cram some stuff together, hope it's legible and hit the publish button.

Comrade! Why did you have to go! Don't you understand how lonely I am without you? I have no one to scream, rage, rant and rampage with. I don't want to post something interesting without you here to rip it apart sentence by sentence and tell me how wrong I am! The other Bloggers are cool but they don't quite have that psychotic, slightly unfounded hatred streak and I think if I attempted to place 500+ word comments on their Blogs over and over they might take out a restraining order on me.

Fuck You 27th!!

...You coming back soon? Pleeeeeeaaaasssssssssssssssseeeeeee!! Can't keep posting this crap, it's getting me down.

So here's some more crap to space fill.
I'm moving house, sometime in August, don't know when, don't know where.

Wednesday, 23 July 2008

Tribes and Naming Rights

I'd just like to express my deepest and most sarcastic gratitude to Chanel for thinking I need an African name. Did you see what they came up with? And GUG thinks I have a big nose, though he's not even seen it and said I should be with the Baganda. So NOT COOL!! No offense to the Baganda who drop by here but I can do better. In response to the names people gave. And it's obvious most of you cannot follow simple directions, I wonder how any of you passed your school exams...but I shan't dwell on that.
Omuramba! - Well, I quite like being named after an alcohol. And I guess you win, only because I don't want you to hit me if I don't say you win...
Nansamba - Means what exactly?
Kukyakara - Huh?
Nomvhulangxa - Well, I would, but I can't spell that shit without having to check back here!
Sokhilixwezingikwe - Ditto, though I can click reasonably well.
Nakawunde - Means what?
Kamese - You're trying to name me Rat/Mouse? I don't fucking think so loser!!
Aber - Best suggestion so far. Sounds nice and I CAN SPELL IT! :P Middle name?
And as far as tribe goes...screw the Baganda! I refuse to be part of that tribe. My nose is a perfectly normal size, nothing overly-large about it! And I'm not a, wait, what was it they were called...oh right, I'm not a back-stabbing, theiving gossipmonger! I'd rather be a Mukiga. Antipop is a Mukiga and she's a bitch. I want that tribe! Any excuse to be a bitch 24/7 and I am so there! How do I join? Obviously too late to be born one. So, initiation ceremony? I can give you a rib. Or do you join the tribe of whoever you marry? Anyone want to give me the number of a cute Bakiga?

Butts, Booty and Suicide Ledges

I had a conversation yesterday night with three people, a dreadlocked man, a Vietnamese chick and a Brazilian guy. The DL turned to me and asked, very randomly, if I liked Alicia Keys. I said yes, she's nice. And he asked if I thought she had booty? Then in piped the other girl and guy and the conversation got so out of hand I almost cried with laughter.

I don't remember much of the conversation since I was grappling with a painful laughing stitch and trying to get enough oxygen so that I didn't suffocate! But the small parts I can recall went something like this:

J-Lo does not actually have booty. It may look like she does, but if you take a close look it's all hips. SHE HAS MASSIVE CHILD BEARING HIPS!!! And so her butt looks huge because it has to cover those wide, wide hips. But of course that stance really depends on your personal booty view point. In our conversation it was agreed that no, J-Lo does not in fact have booty. What she does have is curves, wide hips and a personal trainer to get that butt into shape. Because without it her butt wouldn't be booty, if it is even that, it would just be wide.

Why have we decided she doesnt' have booty? Because to have real booty your butt must be high! Also, everyone is claiming to have booty these days. It's Hollywood hype. Booty sells. And we don't think booty should be handed to every Tom, Dick and No-Talent Harry who a record label assigned a trainer to, to work their butt into a deceptive booty so they could make some money.

And of course once we got past the shallow Hollywood Booty we got onto real butts and booty.
I was practically in tears by this time so it was mainly the two guys who were speaking.
They said that guys like butts, but no kidding, everyone likes butts. They said what they were looking for in a butt was something they could grab. Round, a little plump, prefferably a little toned. A butt that has been taken care of, smooth, warm, oval, none of that square flat, neglected stuff! They said Booty is a term that gets thrown around far too often, which is very irresponsible. See, real Booty, it has to be high! High and round and plump! And this is something only some girls have. But then we got totally distracted by the high aspect Booty must have, in our opinion. Because African boys have some of the highest butts in existence! Have you seen them??

The Vietnamese girl chimes in with a tale of the African man on her bus who had such a high butt she though he should be offering to carry her home on it. Like a perch. Dreadlocks started miming some ridiculous stuff about African mens butts. But all I can remember was that he made a joke about reaching for his wallet and simply reached a couple of inches over his shoulder, as though his butt was so high that's all it took to get to his back pocket. But he's not far off, so I said when I regained my breath, I know a Nigerian boy and his butt is so high is like a fucking ledge!

DL - Ledge? Ha! Some of their butts are so high people will start commiting suicide off them!

Thursday, 17 July 2008

The African Naming Challenge!

Part of the Pope's visit to Sydney, with a new follower......and now for the POST!

Chanel has deemed it necessary for me to be given an African name. Which is fine by long as I can be Christened in Vodka. Or any alcohol really. Well, anything non-staining. You pour red wine on me and I will rip your fucking earlobe off with my nails! With that said, Antipop has already got in and named me Nansamba. I don't know what it means or how to pronounce it.

So here's the Challenge: Choose a name, tell the meaning, the tribe and why it is awesome enough for me to carry? Oh and while you're at it why not choose me a tribe as well. Something suitable that covers my oh-so-wonderful traits.

And if anyone knows the name that means "Fucking Awesome, Better than God and Can Kick Your Arse" then that'll be the winner.

Tuesday, 15 July 2008

The Heart Asks Pleasure First

I have bloggers block, or something similar. I can think of a million things to write about but I just can’t bring myself to actually write any of them. Every time I start I get sidetracked onto my now dead cat. And I don’t want to write some stupid sappy post about how sad I am my kitty died, hell, I didn’t even like the cat that much. Irritating rapist fluff ball that it was. Obviously I have serious issues though because he’s on my mind constantly, in fact, I’m sure he’s actually standing behind me, right now, rattling a ball and chain and meowing a haunting song. So here is my post about my dead cat, whom I can’t stop thinking about. Though, perhaps the real problem is that, some idiot, namely my Mother, has insisted upon placing his picture as the desktop wallpaper. Since I spend an unhealthy amount of time here I’m unimpressed by his huge ginger presence glaring at me from the screen whenever I misguidedly minimise all my windows.

Nevertheless, here is my cat post. And since I’m posting about cats I figured I might as well post about all my cats. Whom I all feel varying levels of hatred towards, except one, who hates me as much as I hate her and through our mutual level of hatred we get along quite well...

Well, that's what I wrote last Friday. And now it is next Tuesday night and I am exhausted, fucking pissed off too and quite depressed. I'm supposed to go to a funeral tomorrow but instead I have to go look at an apartment to rent. I have an 80th birthday party to go to soon and my Opa is coming to visit too. Which is good because I was worried I wouldn't get to see him again before I left, which reminds me, I need to call my Dad and tell him I'm switching countries again. I'm not telling the rest of my family I'm leaving until I've already left, then I'm just going to mass email them.

I think I'll go to bed now because sleep is the only thing stopping me from screaming out loud, because the person holding my heart is crushing it and it's ripping me apart.

The only thing keeping me sane right now is the Theme from The Piano.

The Heart Asks Pleasure First.

Friday, 4 July 2008


You know I can never deny you anything so here goes. For Guggy and for WildeY.

One early evening, 20 years ago my Mother L, Father J and Father I were sitting around and of course the topic got onto sex. L wanted to shag J. I wanted to shag L. And J wanted to shag them both. And so they did. And here I am!!

The utterly adorable, I-N-C-O-R-R-I-G-I-B-L-E, slutty DeTamble, the product of a friendly, raunchy and apparently very good threesome.

GUG wants details. But what details do I know? I was busy swimming and play loop the loop with my tail and kicking some serious sperm butt! Obviously I kicked butt 'cause I got to the egg first, because that's just the sort of awesome person I am. See I would have been the leader and would have shouted too all my now dead brothers and sisters that this way is the right way. And I would have led them into a trap!!! A sticky wall! We would have been racing full pelt and I would have swerved and ducked under them and the rest would have been to stupid to realise and would have careened into the walls! Heheheh. Then I would have dusted my tail on my fat body and swum on. Plotting and planning the destruction of all the other sperm still around, and gloating over my imminent triumph and conquerage of the egg!

One detail I do know is that my Father J, the one I'm actually fully related to, is big. Long and thick. So that particular piece of dormant genetic code had better be passed down to my son. Or else! If he can't have blue eyes, at least let him have a huge cock.

Thursday, 3 July 2008

Your Opinion?

Someone said I was too skinny. But pffft, screw them, I beg to differ! Take a look, does that look too skinny to you?

And yes I am aware that I'm very much on the whiter side of White. No need for pasty related comments. Nor too many comments on the state of the room...

Wednesday, 2 July 2008

To My Future Children, I Hope You Love Your Mother Bee...

This is what a saw when I woke up that morning those few months ago when my friends and I were still together. I was sleeping on the floor in my undies and someone else's shirt and the sun coming through the door woke me up.

Antipop II

For Fabulous Antipop, the owner of That Smile ;-) Enjoy. For you lazy bloggers who had the cameras, how could you? You know Facebook hates her! You should be feeling ashamed, leaving her out like that you cold hearted monsters.

Yes, finally, he thinks as he meets her for the first time: Antipop and...dunno, maybe Dante.

These guys thought I was picturing them kumbe I was on the (insert word) guy up there: Duksey, Edmo, Heaven and Chanel.

Muwanguzi Archilleo: The now reformed alcoholic spreading the good word.

Talk about intense: Duksey and Edmo.

So you see, when I press it here like this, it snaps pikichaz like magic!: Dante and Carlo.

One on one seemed like a better idea: Muwanguzi Archilleo and Eddsla.

It was still starting out only to pick up later: Edmo and Kissyfur.

Isn't that bag divine? Edmo and Kissyfur.

Where are you going?! Heaven, Eddsla and Chanel.

Edmo seems to be having a conversation with his Coca-cola. Ivan and Edmo.

Heaven, Dante and Chanel.

(Why don't I know who you are?), Edmo, Carlo, Antipop and Kissyfur.

You have the right to remain silent and watch me drink your beer. 27th, Ivan and Duksey.

??, Dee and Carlo.

Sex and the City, baby! Dee.

Rev's kitten wrote that book. Antipop (ain't she just gorgeous) and Edmo.

Check the bag! Comrade and Jazz.

I salute thee my comrades...The Communist is actually Rastafarian deep down.

Carlo picked Samantha for a button. What does that tell you?

Bambi, he took the hat off to greet. Chanel, Eddsla and Antipop.

Saturday, 28 June 2008

Papa Ian

To my Daddy, I love you and I miss you, oh and you look awful sexy as a French prostitute...

So this is my father, the one on the left. Honestly 31337, he's the one with facial hair, you were half asleep when you asked me that weren't you? The other is a girl called Zeshi! And she's about the coolest person, EVER! Sorry Antipop, you may have been outdone, but no one's got a smile like yours. Savage, what's the difference between a father and a daddy? Or were you thinking that I meant he's my sugar daddy?

Can you see the family resemblance? He's not my biological father, who knows where that git is but he's the one who brought me up and he's the one who I share my deep love of mirrors with. We're both utterly vain. Hugely. I mean if you ever thought for a moment that you were vain, well I'm sorry to say but compared with us, you're not. In fact, when we walk down the street together we pause in front of every, and I mean EVERY single shop window and gaze at our reflections and we get particularly annoyed when the glass isn't spotless, since it makes it harder for us to shed our adoring gaze upon ourselves.

Cheri, you're right, my father is HOT! People think he's my boyfriend and their mouths quite literally drop when I'm introduced as his daughter. And every single time, without fail they say 'I didn't know you had a daughter! Surely you're too young to have a grown child! :-o'

His name is Liao Wen Xian, eat your heart out Comrade! Oh and Comrade, I'll bring you my book of Chinese characters when I swing by but before I hand it over you will concede that I am right about Tibet and you are completely and utterly wrong and you will kneel, on the dirt, and beg my forgiveness for being a total prat! And then you may have the book.

Friday, 27 June 2008

Mugabe Hijacked My Phone

So there I was, sleeping happily when an envy inducing text was sent my way at 2:27am. I'd just like to thank my ever so thoughtful friend for waking me. Awfully kind of you. I will get you back, just you wait, when you least expect it....

Well, actually it's a good thing you woke me because half an hour later, that makes it 3am for those of you who can't do simple arithmetic, Tapiwa showed up. At 3am! I heard the door slide open and someone creeping along the hall way. If this had been a few years ago I would have been freaking out, thinking it was a robber/rapist/psycho but over the past year I seem to have befriended people who have no concept of appropriate visiting times (or appropriate texting times!). I sat up in bed and watched the doorway, waiting to see which of my inconsiderate friends it was going to be, only I couldn't see anyone but I knew they were there.

DeT - "Hi Taps"
T - "How did you know it was me?!"
DeT - "Erm, 'cause I can't see you..."
T - "Ohh..."
DeT - "So, did you want something, or did you just miss me?"
T - "Actually, umm, sorry, I was wondering if I could use your phone?"
DeT - *raises eyebrows* "So you drove all the way over here at 3am just to use the telephone."

He walked into my room, how he made it to the bed without stepping on anything I'll never know, and sat down. I pressed my phone so I could see him. Poor baby boy, he looked so stressed and tired.

T - "I need to call home and my home phone won't call international and I got no airtime left"
DeT - *rolls eyes* "When do you ever!" *sighs and slides out of bed* "Yeah, wait here I'll go get the phone, you got a calling card?"
T - "No."
DeT - "Eh, no matter, I'll just show you the bill when it comes"
T - "Thanks."

So I brought in the phone and gave it to him and snuggled back under the doona. He lay on top of my bed and called his dad for over an hour. He can't find his mum, the phone kept saying all the lines were down in the area and he's stressing out because of the election. Later in the morning I asked him why he'd come all the way over here, why didn't he use a closer friends phone?

T - "Because I knew you were the only person who wouldn't give me the third degree for showing up that late. Oh and 'cause I knew the door would be open."

Ahhhhh, nice thought that.

Thursday, 26 June 2008

Lack of Sex Scenes on SBS Is Like Being In Hell

You'll all be so proud of me! I scammed food off my friends and I didn't even have to tell them. Ahhhhh, the joys of having rich friends. One of them even has a pool... :D

Megs bought me a Hot Chocolate with a shot of Hazelnut from Starbucks in return for me being her make up model last night. In other words I sat on a chair while she put Napoleon make up on me for her exam, she's becoming a makeup artist. It was cool! I love green eyeshadow! And then I went to Bee's inercity apartment, I love it there! It was her 21st birthday celebration. I ate fairy bread (my favourite), chips, soft drink, snakes (lollies), freckles (chocolates with hundreds and thousands), crackers and coffee. And then she went to sleep at about 1am after we watched a Finish movie on SBS! I was so dissapointed, there was no sex scene! SBS, NOT FUCKING COOL! How dare you show a movie with no sex scene! I was counting on you for some breasts! Bunch of SBS wankers, if I wasn't so lazy I'd write you a damn letter of complaint!!!!!!!!!! So Neran, her boyfriend and I ran around the apartment picking up rubbish and the rest of the crackers and leant out her balcony window and threw things into the street, from the 24th floor. It was hilarious and afterwards we ran down and picked up some more rubbish off the street, since we'd run out of our own, and went back up and threw it all down again. We were aiming for people, cars and trying in vain to get some of it in the pool. No luck with the pool, but nevermind. And when I was leaving there this morning I pinched a packet of noodles, so I'm all set for breakfast :-)

Today, I'm going to have my first Laser Hair Removal appointment. If you can guess where I'm getting it done I'll even post and tell you if it hurt. Here's a hint, 'I like looking like a 12 year old'.

Wednesday, 25 June 2008

Got Rice?

I want to write. I want to tell someone what is going on, but half the things are secrets and the other half I don't understand.

I keep too many secrets. I've been writing them down recently and there are a lot. Odd things, little things, big things, I never told. Although I have actually told some, along the way I would tell a person. Just one, maybe two people. Random people. People who don't have a connection to my family. Do they still count as secrets if I have told a person? Are they then shared secrets? See GUG, this is why you think I am open, because I tell things, but it is a trick. If you tell someone something that most people would want to keep a secret then they think you are being honest. And if they think you are honest then they will never think you may be hiding something else, something more important, something that will get you screamed at and hurt.

Talking of shared secrets I made a plan, it's a nice plan, it contains just the right amount of long term complications. I've told some people what it is, well, I've told them little parts of it. Just small bits, I needed some advice plus it keeps them happy, makes them think they're special to be included. But I ommitted something, several things actually, but one really important fact. A really important fact that if this plan doesn't work I could actually be screwed for, well, not life, but a seriously long time!

So here's something that you may know and that my friends and family may not know. Part of my plan included a list of importance, and on that list food came in last. It's an interesting way to lose weight, though I'm not sure I wanted to. I'm not fat but I'm not exactly a stick either. My doctor says I'm the perfect weight. Not for long though. I look in the mirror and I can see my ribs, they don't poke through but I can still see them. And my shoulder blades, I haven't seen them looking that bony since I was eleven. I've lost 4kg in two weeks. I'm a little hungry. I only had $5 left so all I could afford was some rice. Thank goodness I'm going to visit my friend Bee tomorrow night. It's her 21st and we're all going over there to get wasted! And me, I'll be thieving food from her fridge. That's not to say I'm not appreciative of rice, 1cup has lasted me three days but I'm bored. As soon as I get paid again I'm going to buy some peas and tamari (soy sauce) to make the rice more entertaining for my taste buds. And some more rice. There was only that one cup left and it's all gone now, I'm hungry.

Monday, 23 June 2008

Cheri and The BHH

@Cheri: I guess things are alright, I dunno, I can't really work out if they are or not :-|

BHH! You lucky snobby nosed people who are going, TAKE SOME DAMN PICTURES! Specifically of Antipop....and Carlo, we want more of kuchu Ivan.

Thursday, 19 June 2008

Penny For A Picture?

My ex boyfriend in Denmark's mum had a baby a few weeks ago. I feel obliged to post some pictures! Well, one of her and some of other things, mainly because I'm feeling very homesick for Danelania! I don't know her name yet, she hasn't been Christened so she has no name officially. I think it is Julie though, born May 22nd.

I am happy to report that Aalborg Burger King, that's Hungry Jacks to the rest of my Australian horde, have the best burgers of any fast food joint I have ever been to! And you get tomato sauce in little paper cups! HEAVEN!

Danes have strange houses. Nice, but strange. And POTATOES! Oh dear god! I had enough damn potatoes to last me to kingdom come! I could have drowned in the fucking things!

WildeYearnings: Going pink like this is not something I have ever done, even though I live in what equates to a sunny oven. Though I have shaved my head before just like this boy here.

And since I'm posting photos, here's a nice Australian one.

Now! Go Get The Fuck Back To Work!

Fuel Watch

I keeping hearing that Australians swear, a lot. I didn't really think this was true because I hear other people from other countries swearing too. But I've just seen a new ad on TV, it's an ad from a leading political group in Australia. Maybe we do swear more, or maybe it's just more socially acceptable because even our politicians swear, on TV, in interviews, every day.

Watch the ad, it only goes for 30 seconds, so if you click now, it should be done by lunch time.
Tell me, do your government ads swear too? Also note, we don't beep swear words on TV, the beeping on these words is done as a joke.


Wednesday, 18 June 2008

Rest In Peace Little Ones

Just thought I'd add that it turns out the twins, 18 month olds, were dead for 9 days in their crib before the eldest sibling, 11, noticed a bad smell coming from the room. One weighed 4kg and the other even less, they starved to death. They were a little on the decomposed side...

The mother said in court "maybe I should have fed them more". Ha! No kidding!


On another note I just did something rather insane. Much more insane than normal. I'm not going to tell you because you'll all think I'm an idiot, more than you already do. All I can say is I hope to fuck this works! Otherwise I am oh-so-screwed!

Tuesday, 17 June 2008

Neighbour 'fed siblings of dead twins'

Police found the bodies of the twin boy and girl at a house in Sunnybank Hills, in Brisbane's south, around 7pm (AEST) on Monday.

Post-mortem examinations were to be carried out on the children on Tuesday.

It is understood three older siblings have been taken away by child safety workers to another residence.

A 28-year-old man and a 30-year-old woman were to appear in Brisbane Magistrates Court on Tuesday, charged with failing to provide the necessities of life.

Neighbour Nyakong Maying told AAP she had lived in the same street as the family for five years and sometimes gave food to the children in the family.

"The youngest boy (a four-year-old boy) comes over here and says `I need something to eat, I'm hungry'," Ms Maying said.

"When they came here about four months ago I give them some snacks or fruit with my children but after that I stopped it."

Ms Maying, who came to Australia from Sudan, said she never saw the parents.

"I never see the mother or the father also, I just see the kids because they come around my house," she said.

Another neighbour, Fiona Ma (Ma), said she had noticed a boy aged three or four who was allowed to run around the neighbourhood unsupervised.

"I feel confused because (the) parents are not attending to him," Ms Ma told AAP.

"He's so young and he just runs in the street."


I hope the parents go to jail! What a horrible thing to do.

Monday, 16 June 2008


Grrrrrrr. I don't like Australians, they're boring, not only that but they don't like me because I wasn't raised to be a good Australian. I don't do Australian things, mostly because I think they're just plain stupid and I don't agree with what the 'Aussies' think. Yes I know there are 'millions of aussies' but most of them piss me off and the other 'millions of aussies' are immigrants who don't piss me off. So obviously I'm going with the people who don't piss me off. Goddamn it Antipop, your comment is irritating! I didn't do it on purpose, in fact I was even reluctant to be friends with them. Perhaps I should write more about my non-Zimbabwean friends. Would you like to hear about the Italians? Danes? Lithuanians? Serbians? Welsh? English? Scottish? Irish? German? French? Saudi? Sri Lanka? Kenya? Eritrea? South African? Chinese? Japanese? Tibetan? Nepalese? Indian? Nigerian? Samoa? Maltese? Iraq? Iran? Afghanistan? Botswana? Egypt? Brazil? Korea? Sweden? Iceland? Norway? Czech? Ghana? Singapore? Thailand? Sudan? Finland? Poland? Russia? New Zealand? Islander? Palestine? So the Zimbabweans just happen to be the newest, literally only been in the country since March. Very new. You move to a new country you need friends from that country. Who else is going to be able to bail you out of jail at the crack of dawn and still be coherent enough to argue with the Police? It just so happens that out of the millions of Australians I happen to be amongst the nicest, isn't that a scary thought? I believe they call it 'approachability', so I have a lot of friends from other countries. I just happened to blog about the Zims because I'm still getting used to them. I could tell you about what I got up to last week with the Sri Lankans, but since those things were illegal I figured rice was more acceptable.

Hmph and now I've eaten all the mango flavoured tofu. I should have bought more.

And the blogroll is full of Ugandans because I was curious about Ugandans, since I waste money on one. It could have been full of Kenyans, but Kenyans scare me. And I don't want to be officially adopted. I'm happy skipping blithely from one country to another. And if I specifically sided with one country what would all my other friends do? I can't be Ugandan and Sri Lankan and Australian and Chinese and Danish all at once. I don't have enough limbs for everyone!

And one last thing. For Carlo and Antipop and Sybella and everyone else who keeps bringing this up. There is nothing going on with Rev and I. Honestly, we're just messing with you because we can and because it's fun. The only thing going on with us is that one day it occurred to us that posting at each other in other peoples comments was probably not that greatest idea. So we moved it to our respective inboxes. And there we scream, yell and rage at each other on all sorts of things. The last one was about Tibet and his stupid opinions and complete ignorance of Tibetan culture. And no, Rev is not Hunk. And no, despite what GUG may think, I won't be marrying Rev. Of all people. Oh and I know African men are lazy slobs, which is why I could never marry one. NOTHING WOULD EVER GET DONE! If we had children they'd starve to death because no one would ever feed them!

Which is why I'm going to marry a total neat freak (to clean) and who is also a chef (to feed me) and who is rich (for a nanny or boarding school) and I think this cuts out almost every single man except maybe someone from Berlin.

EDIT: Crap! I forgot the Philippines. Please, Kirsty, Caitlin, leave the pitchfork at home, I'm sorry.

Sunday, 15 June 2008

31337 Infected Me

I got flu and I is blaming 31337, cause you were the first person I knew that had it this flu season! You gone and infected me! Thanks :-D I scored days off work! YAY!

Today I made rice! I cooked! I cooked rice! And I didn't screw up either! Can you believe that? I actually cooked something. Something edible! I am so damn proud! :-D I MADE FOOD! Real food. Not just a sandwich. I didn't just pick bits off the shelf and out of the fridge. I actually used the stove! Now, this may not seem all that amazing to you, but to me this is a huge thing! I can't cook. I don't know how. In fact you immigrants, you 'off the boat'ers with your fancy shmancy cooking skills, you can just shut up! Most Australian children who were born here can't cook. We just don't know how. Our mothers tried to teach us but it just didn't work. I've had many many many cooking lessons with my mother, I just can't do it. But today I did.

I was with some of the Zimbabwean children and the subject of cooking came up and I was given so much shit from them because I can't cook. It wasn't fair! They picked on me hardcore and there was no other Australian child there for backup! Not only was there no other Australian, there was no other White child. Can you say minority? And when I get annoyed I tend to blush and I was thinking 'Fuck, I'm never going to live this one down'. Fucking Zims! Aint you ever heard of giving someone a break? Okay so I can't cook. I accept that. But must you tease me just because you can't blush? And quit poking my cheeks when it happens! And don't make me fucking laugh either! It'll never go away then, can't you just let me regain some composure?

I got pushed into cooking. I had to make the rice for lunch. I was scared. You Africans can be awfully menacing, you know that!?!? They all stood in the kitchen watching me and refused to help. I called my mother begging for instruction to cook rice. That Cow wouldn't stop laughing! MOTHERFUCK! But she told me and I followed them. And it worked. I cooked rice. It was amazing.

What wasn't amazing was when I got home and gave my mother a blow-by-blow account. Think boys giving a detailed account of the soccer match they just won. It was detailed. There was action replay (no I didn't cook again, not that much action, sheesh). And when I was done, actually she cut me off, she said 'That's wonderful DeTamble, now that you've done the first step I'm going to teach you lots of things to cook."

DeT: What? WHY?
Ma: Every women needs to know how to cook, it's a very important part of being a woman
Ma: You need to know how to cook for your husband.
DeT: Wha? I thought we were talking about rice, where did the husband come from?!?! And don't call me a woman!
Ma: Well, I'm worried about you. You're about to pull your usual disappearing act and I don't think you'll be coming back again for a long time. What if you meet someone, he's going to expect that you'll know how to cook!
DeT: WHAT? What are you talking about? You're insane! I don't need to know how to cook!! And what do you mean I'm pulling my usual disappearing act? And I don't need to cook! I'll live off things that don't require cooking, like pineapples! Also Ma, I'm not stupid, I'd never date a man who can't cook. I don't want him bitching at me about him being hungry. He can go cook for himself. Lazy wanker. *mutters*

Okay, before you all start thinking I'm some spoilt brat who has always been cooked for, it's not true. In fact most days I either go hungry or I just eat things that don't require cooking. Like a carrot, or a piece of bread, or 2min noodles.

Ma: You need to know how to cook Tambles! Stop being so difficult! Forget the husband for now, but one day you're going to want to be able to impress someone with your cooking skills. And you will learn before you leave.
DeT: (feeling a little guilty but still not wanting to ever really go into a kitchen again) I'm coming back. Plenty of time to teach me then...
Ma: I doubt it. I know you. I know it was a fluke you came back last time, I doubt you'll be back for a long time.
DeT: *fidgets*
Ma: And what are you going to do about Uni? How are you supposed to study when you're not even in the country?
DeT: Off campus? I don't know! I'll talk to my Uni, maybe I'll just defer....
Ma: I don't see why you can't just be happy here like other people, why are you always so desperate to leave?

And this is why I will never learn to cook. Because every time cooking and me are mentioned together it leads to conversations that I do not want and do not know the answers to.

Thursday, 12 June 2008

Trapped On The Internet

I love the internet. The way you can just stumble across things. Though, this is one of the times I'd rather not have stumbled. I'd rather not have read. It was painful.


Friday, 6 June 2008

Bed Time!! Whoooooo!

I am back! I am so back!! I still have some Uni stuff left but nothing pressing!

Did you all miss me?!? Huh? Huh?!? HUH?!?! You better have missed me you bunch of...of...of...erm, bunch of bed owners.

Bed owners? Well I too own a bed, though this past two months I really haven't spend much time in it. Where have I been sleeping? Well, like all good Australian teenagers I sleep pretty much anywhere!

Places I have slept since my blogging slowed:

Park Bench.
In a tree.
On a wall.
Amongst large tree roots.
Under a picnic table.
On a roof.
On a car bonnet, this was a particularly nice one. My friend and I would wake up when we were cold and turn the car on to warm us for a while.
A kitchen bench.
On a dining room table.
Under a desk a Uni.
In a hallway at Uni, with my head resting on a tome entitled The Oxford History of Islam.
Curled up with some friends on a bed.
Curled up with some friends on the floor.
A bus stop.
In a blanket (what a luxury that was) beside my friends bed.

And my all time favourite in a cardboard box. Yes folks, you read that one right. In a cardboard box which some of the homeless people very kindly lent me down by the river.

Normally I wouldn't write this but I know for a fact my mother no longer pops by my blog so I think it's safe to say where I've really been when I say I've been sleeping at my friends houses.

Why have I been sleeping in these places, because, I just have and that's all you need to know.
Oh alright, it's because:
No spare $30 for a cab ride home.
Missed last bus.
Night Rider doesn't run on weekdays.
Have pulled an all nighter at Uni and was napping at about 4am under desks and in hall ways waiting for the first bus out.
And obviously on some occasions I was either too wasted or too tired to bother going home and thought it was just a better idea to sleep where I was. Hence the trees, parks and the wall.

And some one said I'd never survive more than a month in Africa, pfft fuck off! If I can happily sleep in a cardboard box I'm sure I'll be fine in Africa. Oh yes, I'm coming to a BHH before the end of the year. Do you think I can shag a boda driver? They look pretty seedy, reckon they'd be up for it?