Conversations with my brain: Welcome to 2013 (and a tired boat metaphor)

ERMAHGERD this boat has no crew. Or rudder. Or a deck.
(OK that's the sum of my nautical knowledge. Go here for the image).

Me: How has your 2013 started?

Brain: With abundant fabulosity, glamour and gentle fierceness, thanks. And yours?

Me: You’re such a liar.

Brain: I dispute that vehemently.

Me: You can’t do anything vehemently. You’re just a brain.

Brain: While we’re on the subject of me, why have you been constantly sending the word “transformation” into my severely tested frontal lobe for the last two or three years?

Me: That wasn’t me.

Brain: Well it wasn’t me.

Me: Then who’s been doing it?

Brain: I don’t know.

Brain and Me in unison: Ooooooh…

(They share a silent moment of awe at the mystical, unknowable nature of the universe). 

Brain: Anyway, so what’s this transformation thing about then?

Me: Oh. Well a while back I pushed the facilitation and training boat out from the safety of permanent fulltime work into the murky, turbulent waters of freelancing. Amazingly the leaky old boat didn’t sink.

Brain: Astonishing.

Me: Shut up. So instead of baking in the sun, sending up flares, drinking salt water and eyeing off my companions as possible entrées, as I waited for rescue from my capsized career, my paid job has become more (flam)buoyant inch by inch each year. No need to steer the boat back to harbour. Lucky!

Brain: Can I tell you how much I’m enjoying this boat metaphor?

Me: Shut up. This flexibility meant I could start things like this blog. Now it seems it’s time to take stock, and see where I fancy steering this here boat.

Brain: So that’s why the word “opportunity” keeps flashing across my synapses.

Me: Could be. I’ve been invited into a memoir writing group.

Brain: ER. MAH. GERD. Shitting. My. Self.

Me: And I’ve started back into fiction writing here. Now I have three books to write. Which is bloody ridiculous, because I work full-time doing something else right now. And some writing courses. This weekend I started Reiki Level 1* and I want to do more. This boat is being steered in a lot of different directions.

Brain: I wondered what that was. I’m knackered.

Me: Me too.

Brain: Stick a broom up your arse while you run around doing all this shit and you’ll keep the decks clean too. And now you've got me hooked into this craptastic boat metaphor! Thanks a lot. You’re clearly insane. 

Me: Who’s this “you” you’re talking about?

Brain: Oh very clever.

Me: So this year is shaping up to be a pretty exciting voyage. Yo ho ho and a barrel of rum, etc.

Brain: You’re weird.

Me: Takes one to know one.

Brain: I know you are but what am I?

Me: Um. What?

Brain: Shut up.

What plans do you have for 2013?

*I’ve wanted to do this for ten years. Finally it’s done. Now I have to practice. The gorgeous Dayle Walker is my Reiki Master and she is totally brilliant.** She also provides massage, hypnotherapy and reflexology so send me an email if you’re interested in her contact details. I can’t recommend her highly enough. She rocks. And is HILAIRE.
** Did you hear the Woop woop danger Will Robinson alert that accompanies sponsored posts? No? Me neither. This is not a sponsored post - I just adore her.

How to get rid of kids (not a sponsored post)

You know, I've had six whole days of child-free time. ER. MER. GHERD.

I miss him.

But I'm betting that within 30 minutes of him being home, I'm going to wish I'd bought a can of this when I saw it.

(Not a sponsored post).

(Not really a post at all). 

How are you coping these school holidays?

What do vomit, Downton Abbey and insanity have in common? Me, apparently...

Not Brendan Coyle pondering how to get vomit out of taupe linen.
Image from here.

Well I hope you've all had a rip-roaring start to the New Year. I've slowly dragged my reluctant froggy arse into the first working week of my year and it's PAINFUL.

Seriously.

So it was with real delight that I read some snort-inducing, cringe-worthy, HOLY SHITBALLS HOW DID SHE SURVIVE THAT moments while reading Alison's post about embarrassing situations here.  Her blog and my blog were separated at birth. (You get to guess which was the evil twin). Get her blog in your eyeballs, people.

Once I'd wiped my (thank DOG that didn't happen to me) tears of laughter away, I realised that I owed you all some more from my Top Ten Dumb-Arse Moments list. Thank you Alison for your inspiration.

Five - How to cure yourself of a crush (and ensure you're never allowed near expensive furniture again)

About 11 years ago, I was living the exciting life of a 30-something recently-divorced chick working in independent film in London. Which is to say I was working 16 hours a day, 6 days a week, going to the pub a lot, emotionally unstable and generally insane.

The makeup artist on the film had just moved to a new flat, teaming up with an actress. This actress was in a television show at the time with someone who bore a remarkable resemblance to Brendan Coyle. Look him up ladies, he's now in Downton Abbey. At the time, I was rather partial to a bit of Brendan Coyle. 

Imagine my excitement when I was invited to their housewarming party.

Imagine the utter squee-inducing delight when I heard that the-actor-who-resembles-Brendan-Coyle-but-is-not-Brendan-Coyle* (let's refer to him as Not Brendan Coyle) might be there.

Imagine the pee-producing combination of joy and terror as I walk in and there is Not Brendan Coyle, in the loungeroom.

Imagine the copious amounts of alcohol I consumed in my nervous/emotional unstable/insane state in order to hide the fact that I was nervous/emotionally unstable and insane.

Now imagine the disappointment when I woke up the next morning, amid a pile of sleeping bodies, to discover that I had drunk so much/something/whatever and then vomited. All. Over. Myself. And a brand new taupe linen couch, apparently.

Imagine the horror when the first words I heard that morning were Not Brendan Coyle saying "Way to throw up all over yourself, Aussie".

This is why I can never watch costume drama again, and flinch at the site of taupe furniture.

6 - Waiter, there's a funeral in my soup

Yes I did go to a fancy cafe in the hills near Melbourne.

Yes I did ask the nice lady all in black for some more coffee.

Yes she was a mourner from the wake that was happening in the private section of the cafe.

Yes I am going to hell.

7 - PT Barnum is still an arsehole

If you've been following the PT Barnum story here and here, you'll know that we've been hosting a slightly unwelcome roof visitor lately. As a result we bought a possum box and my partner kindly nailed it to a tree in our back yard.

Apparently trees and ladders aren't designed for people shaped like me.**

"I know," I thought optimistically, "I'll pop up the ladder and add the leaves and some banana to the box to entice PT in and make him so comfy he never wants to hang out in our lumpy old ceiling ever again!"

"I know," I thought, again with remarkable positivity, "I'll just go a bit higher and climb into the tree so I can reach".

"I know," I thought with mild annoyance, "I'll just waggle myself around a bit; I'm sure I can un-wedge myself from this position and get further into this tree".

"I know," I thought with admirable calm, "I'll just wait for my partner to notice that I'm firmly wedged via boob and hips between the ladder and this branch, and then he'll send for the fire brigade to cut me free."

"I know," I thought as I finally climbed down from the tree, "I'll just gas that little fucker out of the ceiling and he can go find a possum box in feckin' possum heaven."***

And so the list of my misadventures is growing. Think of it as a community service - humiliating me so you don't have to.

* It was Brendan Coyle.
** For the record, NOTHING in life is designed for people shaped like me.
*** Updated: I am now DEFINITELY going to hell. Three weeks after publishing this, I had to publish this. 

What have you done that was deeply embarrassing in front of a famous person?

You make the rules

Welcome to 2013 people!

In March I'll have been writing here for a year. Let me share with you some (cough) wisdom I've accumulated so far, about blogging in particular.

But really I think it's a metaphor for everything in life.

Enjoy. I'll be hitting "Publish" again in earnest here soon.