these baggy trousers though, just so you know). I bought a set from H&M and was so disappointed when I put them on and found them rather legging-like. Then when I got into bed and slid my feet down to the bottom, my pants didn’t ride up around my knees. This is genius. No cold calves for me!
Well that’s a lie, there’s plenty of cold everything for me when I have to get out of bed multiple times a night, but what can you do. (I can lock them in their bedroom, yeah?).
Spring is apparently on its way, according to some hardcore Melbournites. Which means I made it through my first winter thanks to ducted heating, and ducted heating.
I’m heading to the PBEvent conference on Thursday, and if I make it through this time without sounding like a sleep-deprived goat, I will consider it a success. I have a costume for the Friday party, plenty of Nurofen, and nobody making me get out of the bed in the middle of the night to give me cold calves. Maybe just the cold shoulder after I deliver my presentation breaking everyone’s hearts and dashing everyone’s dreams. It’s tough being the bearer of bad news, but someone’s gotta do it! (How’s my attempt at a pleasant, neutral face. It looks like murderous rage.)
I have discovered the wonder of Aussie Farmers Direct bringing to my door before I wake up all the things my children demand 400 times a day. And I’ve bitten the bullet and ordered my groceries online a few times now, which streamlines my to-do list like nobody’s business. I was trying to go out and patronise all the people doing good non-supermarkety things, but I had to admit defeat (or order a clone of myself) so some weeks all the supermarket items are belong to me.
I usually avoid watching videos, but you can’t avoid the ice bucket challenge these days. I’ve watched two people get knocked out and that’s about it. Except for this one, which I watched in its entirety, and died laughing. So many new catchphrases for my silly little mouth. I CAN’T SWIM!
I don’t know about you, but a desperate and sad Robin Williams taking his own life has knocked me for a six this week. It feels different to other celebrity deaths, like it’s hit us all hard. This comment on a post about David Letterman remembering him is exactly how I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one feeling so weirdly upset by this:
Also, like a lot of people, I am imposing a moratorium on all things Robin Williams as of this moment. I just… can’t with the constant grief. Over the past week, I’ve broken down in tears at least three times a day, and a good solid ugly-cry after watching ‘Good Morning Vietnam’ last Tuesday. Celebrities die, and it never hits me except in a selfish way (‘Oh damn—no more new work from so-and-so for me to enjoy’). Williams’ death keeps punching me in the fucking gut.
Adam Hills’s response to the Westboro Baptist Church threatening to boycott Robin Williams’s funeral is the best.
And Wil Wheaton at ComicCon giving a young fan advice about handling bullies is spot on.
I watched the first season of True Detective and fangirled out pretttttty hard. I don’t have much time/patience for TV these days, but this show was brilliant. Look at my pathetic excitement on this post – god, even just looking at the picture is making me want to shout “I’m not emotionally ready for this to be over!”
Everything Eden writes is Just Ace every day, but lately her pen has been turbo-charged. I can’t even describe anything of it, so I will direct you to go and read. Everything. As much as you can. But don’t miss This World is So Hard to Live in, People are Dropping Like Flies, and Peaches Dies of an Overdose in Front of Her Son; Smug Mothers Everywhere Polish Their Mirrors. What a life. I love her fiercely.
On a lighter note, this was funny.