The Evil Within

Okay, so I want to share a small bathroom experience I had recently (not the filthy run away from my blog now kind of experience). It involves a small child, a hand dryer and a belly load of personal hysteria.
Okay, so now I'm just starting to sound creepy, which I expect is mostly the 'Evil Within' talking.
I suspect that those of you that are solid viewers of my blog have come to understand that I am a massive fan of chocolate, yo-yo dieting, renovating and going to the gym, but my pet hates? Small people. No, I'm not referring to the bearded variety from Lord of the Rings or the Austin Power's Mini-me - I'm talking about ... children.
I find them loud, somewhat annoying and a consistent irritant under your feet. Yes, I am a shit Aunt and an even crappier babysitter. If I ever had my own, I would probably leave it at the grocery store, let it take rides in the clothes dryer, or possibly brand its forehead with 'do not touch anything'.
So now that we have established I am a sub-par human being and should be exorcised immediately, we can get back to the story.
It was about a week ago, I was having a fairly ordinary day at work and the evil within was stirring particularly hard - malevolent little fingers of naughtiness twisting my insides with possibilities. It was just after three and I thought ... bathroom break. So I left my desk as one does once the urge to 'go' presses upon the bladder and motivates the legs to move forward in search of release.
And then there I was, locked in my stall, finishing my business when I hear the outer doors open. But it wasn't just the doors, it was accompanied by one of those tiny, underdeveloped voices laced with a high-pitched whine.
'Mummy, I don't want to go to this toilet,' the little girl said.
'Sweetie, I promise that the hand dryer will not attack you. It's just loud, that's all,' the mother replied with kind words of inspiration.
The stall next to me closed and locked. I was busying myself with my zipper in preparation to leave, fingers poised on the lock with the intent of washing my hands and exiting this suddenly talkative place of evacuation.
'Mummy, I'm scared.'
'Sweetie, stop being silly. It's just a hand dryer, it's not going to hurt you.'
'But it's loud!'
You're loud ... I thought quietly to myself as I found the wash basins and lathered up. This conversation continued for what I calculated as several seconds, my internal clock clearly biased in its belief that it was really several hours. And, as this mounting fear escalated, my head cocked to the side, my eyes drawn to the wall-mounted Dyson, it's shiny surface beckoning me to dry my now slightly wet hands.
I was now presented with a dilema.
One, do I wipe my almost dry hands upon my pants and save this little girl from an afternoon of tears? Or two, give in to the evil within and then run as fast as I can before they 'out' the bringer of fears?
I am a horrible person, my scruples clearly hitting rock bottom as I slid my moist hands into that dryer with ease, the almost instant scream of terror from the closed bathroom stall behind me filling my ears with dread yet maliciously riddling my face with the biggest smile I'd encountered all day.
I am ashamed to say that I scared the crap out of that kid and laughed all the way back to my desk. On the upside, a colleague entered after me and I do believe that said little girl was scoring an ice-cream out of the experience, so really, I did her a massive, double chocolate chip favour.
Okay, so feel free to judge. Who else has done something like this? Who else has tipped a cow, eaten the last piece of birthday cake or scared the crap out of their husband while peeing? I know you're out there. I can't be the only one who does these horrible things ... Can I???

Kristy :)

Jazz Bar

Okay so I've done it again, I missed Follow Friday. But don't I always justify my missing of this venture with some weird and wonderful exploration of strange terrain in my otherwise relatively dull existence?
Recently my Follow Friday desertion was due to a pyjama party - thirty year old women sipping wine, singing bad karaoke and scaring the shit out of me with a late night viewing of The Exorcist. This time my absence was due to visitation to a jazz bar.
I don't personally listen to jazz. Don't get me wrong, I've got absolutely nothing against it, it's actually quite soothing but not exactly the kind of beat that gets you bouncing to your feet and head banging until the wee hours of the morning (not that I head bang). It was pleasant, unexpected and something I've never tried in the past. Though admittedly it did feel like happy hour at the retirement home.
There I was in my skinny jeans, up-do, and impressively cruel high heels sipping cocktails with my friends, only to be surrounded by a sea of geriatrics. Just about all of us were carded, though I suspected it was mostly because of the bartender's cataracts and our ability to walk around the bar without a walking frame. We probably looked like toddlers to the regulars.
To top it off, our hostess was clinging desperately to her youth, forcing the sagging flesh of her once ample cleavage into a barely there triangle bikini. I especially loved how she topped the outfit off with a see-through leopard print camisole and a side of slick perspiration to highlight every groove and line of disapproval on her craggy face.
Enter a photographer. Whether intentional or not, he snapped away like a Japanese tourist with endless film, possibly shocked to the core that anyone under thirty crossed the threshold and stayed longer than a pit-stop at the restroom.
All in all the drinks were good, the food was good and the company (my mates) was excellent. The band put on a good show despite the fifteen minute intervals for bathroom breaks, and I even appreciated the fact that I could hear the person next to me at all times. But hopefully my Follow Friday will be back on board by next week. I don't expect another romp with the senior citizens anytime soon, though I look forward to the next adventure my friends will undoubtedly talk me into.
Happy weekend everyone,

Kristy :)

Book Review: The Seven Steps to Closure by Donna Joy Usher

Let me just start off by saying that I don't usually do Chick-Lit. I've never been really interested in girly dramas, boy bantering, and the inevitable over-discussed shopping sprees. I'm a supernatural fiction fan all the way - horror, suspense, a smattering of romance, and of course, vampires! So, when the Seven Steps to Closure was recommended to me by a friend, I thought to myself. Come on, woman, be brave, try something new, particularly in light of the good press it's so far receiving.
Alas, I downloaded this little bargain from kindle for $2.99 and sat back with a dubious expression undoubtedly planted across my face. But, as I was slowly woven into the world of Tara Babcock and her endearing friends, I found myself, shall we say ... hooked.
Yes, imagine my surprise as I laughed continuously at this seemingly disastrous protagonist, her psychologically deranged pets, and her saddened yet eternally optimistic view of her less than perfect dating experiences.
Let me lay it out for you quickly. Tara Babcock has had a rough year. Her philandering husband is out of the picture but her heart persists on dragging its ventricles, unable to obtain closure. Cue three very different, yet well-meaning friends and you have Tara with a new mission - obtaining the seven steps to closure thanks to an elaborate article in a gossip magazine. Get a new haircut, get a new wardrobe, start a new hobby, have meaningless sex (yes, you heard me), travel to an exotic destination, have meaningful sex (yes, you heard me twice), and obtain closure.
It all sounds pretty straight forward, doesn't it? Not with Tara at the helm.
Needless to say the author cleverly explores Tara's progress through each chapter, shaping the character into the disastrous but endearing creature that makes you smile at every witty one-liner and inevitable upset. Flanked by a smartly interwoven sub-plot pertaining to each individual friend and you have more than just a story surrounding one desperate woman's journey to leave the past behind. Throw in a trip to India and all the idiosyncrasies that come with stolen shoes, crazy bandits, Dehli Belly, and ... meaningful sex - you have yourself a very entertaining little novel.
My only criticism is that sometimes the protagonist does highlight a little too much background information on elements that do not necessarily add to the story, simply slow it down. There was also a small lack of interchanging expressions and emotions from character interaction, but this in no way dimmed my enjoyment of this novel. From a self-published author I am extremely impressed by the attention to detail and the clear passion shown in research and character development. Overall, I can honestly say that I loved this book and will probably read more from this author in the future.
I will happily give it five fangs for surprising the hell out of me and proving me wrong about chick-lit!


Synopsis:
Tara Babcock awakes the morning after her thirtieth birthday with a hangover that could kill an elephant, and the knowledge she is still no closer to achieving closure on her marriage break up. Things go from bad to worse when she discovers that, not only is her ex-husband engaged to her cousin - Tash, the woman her left her for - but that Jake is also running for the Lord Mayor of Sydney.
Desperate to leave the destructive relationship behind and with nothing else to lose, she decides, with the encouragement of her three best friends, to follow the dubious advice from a magazine article - closure in seven easy steps.


Kristy :)