Buggered if I can be bothered to think of a journal title
So, according to my lovely Year 3 darlings, I am Delta Goodrem in bad shoes, well Nanna shoes to be precise. I am not exactly sure where the Delta thing comes from ... withold your comments please! As for Nanna shoes, I stand proud!
I am not the high heel wearing sort. In fact, a couple of years ago I managed to break my foot (yes, yes, drunken hooliganism) while wearing my Blundtstones! The 7:30 am visit to the doctor was greeted with "High heels?" NO!! The flattest, most sensible shoes a person can own. I am just a clumsy freakin' galoot! I think I even beat you cut_paste in those stakes!
Anyway, for reasons of personal safety (and the safety of others) I tend to wear only flat shoes. Other teachers rock up to work in their newest fashion wear, complete with heels: heeled boots, heeled sandals and those things the Yanks call 'pumps' ... with heels.
I honestly don't know how they stand up all day in them. I get home and find myself in need of a nice lie down, legs in the air - for circulation of course ;)- and hope that there are few reasons I will need to stand up again. My job entails standing, walking or squatting most of the time. How the fuck they can do it in heels is beyond me ...
Now, what have I been up to? I spent yesterday curled up with the lovely and wonderful further_ahem watching DVD's and nursing what should have been a more terrible hangover than it was.
We went to dinner with some of the usual suspects on Saturday night, which was hilarious ... 200 bottles of wine later we must have left (I have very vague memories of the latter half of the evening) and somehow further_ahem and I arrived home. We stood out the front of the house, me frantically emptying my bag looking for the keys.
They weren't there.
They really weren't there.
This realisation sent me into an emotional meltdown ... What the fuck would we do? It was after 1 am. We were far too drunk to leave the porch. Ahhh the despair. We stuffed around for around 20 minutes (this I can tell from the call register on my phone, which tells me I tried to call Koze, the restaurant and my Dad - I don't know why)and then mysteriously further_ahem said "I've got them!" Neither of us remember how he managed to have them. I guess it doesn't really matter!? We were very relieved to be inside.
Woke up about midday on Sunday. Crawled out of bed to find that my left knee had grown a massive bulge. A very painful bulge. Yes, the clumsy galoot strikes again. I don't remember falling over ... further_ahem doesn't remember me falling over. I think some stinking goblin snuck into the bedroom and smashed me on the knee with his favourite bowling ball. That's my story and I'm sticking with it!
Today has been a day from hell. I spent most of the afternoon screaming like a banshee at out of control children at an indoor sports centre somewhere 'out there'. A lot of staff were on sickies (it is Monday after all) so two of us ended up escorting 75 children to said sports centre and then tried to keep them from flinging cricket bats at each other, throwing sand ('beach' volleyball), whining and crying that they haven't gotten the ball all game and so forth. Jesus, they don't pay me enough for this! I feel like a drink. A good strong drink! But, after the weekend, have decided to try for a grog free week. Maybe I'll start tomorrow ...
I am not the high heel wearing sort. In fact, a couple of years ago I managed to break my foot (yes, yes, drunken hooliganism) while wearing my Blundtstones! The 7:30 am visit to the doctor was greeted with "High heels?" NO!! The flattest, most sensible shoes a person can own. I am just a clumsy freakin' galoot! I think I even beat you cut_paste in those stakes!
Anyway, for reasons of personal safety (and the safety of others) I tend to wear only flat shoes. Other teachers rock up to work in their newest fashion wear, complete with heels: heeled boots, heeled sandals and those things the Yanks call 'pumps' ... with heels.
I honestly don't know how they stand up all day in them. I get home and find myself in need of a nice lie down, legs in the air - for circulation of course ;)- and hope that there are few reasons I will need to stand up again. My job entails standing, walking or squatting most of the time. How the fuck they can do it in heels is beyond me ...
Now, what have I been up to? I spent yesterday curled up with the lovely and wonderful further_ahem watching DVD's and nursing what should have been a more terrible hangover than it was.
We went to dinner with some of the usual suspects on Saturday night, which was hilarious ... 200 bottles of wine later we must have left (I have very vague memories of the latter half of the evening) and somehow further_ahem and I arrived home. We stood out the front of the house, me frantically emptying my bag looking for the keys.
They weren't there.
They really weren't there.
This realisation sent me into an emotional meltdown ... What the fuck would we do? It was after 1 am. We were far too drunk to leave the porch. Ahhh the despair. We stuffed around for around 20 minutes (this I can tell from the call register on my phone, which tells me I tried to call Koze, the restaurant and my Dad - I don't know why)and then mysteriously further_ahem said "I've got them!" Neither of us remember how he managed to have them. I guess it doesn't really matter!? We were very relieved to be inside.
Woke up about midday on Sunday. Crawled out of bed to find that my left knee had grown a massive bulge. A very painful bulge. Yes, the clumsy galoot strikes again. I don't remember falling over ... further_ahem doesn't remember me falling over. I think some stinking goblin snuck into the bedroom and smashed me on the knee with his favourite bowling ball. That's my story and I'm sticking with it!
Today has been a day from hell. I spent most of the afternoon screaming like a banshee at out of control children at an indoor sports centre somewhere 'out there'. A lot of staff were on sickies (it is Monday after all) so two of us ended up escorting 75 children to said sports centre and then tried to keep them from flinging cricket bats at each other, throwing sand ('beach' volleyball), whining and crying that they haven't gotten the ball all game and so forth. Jesus, they don't pay me enough for this! I feel like a drink. A good strong drink! But, after the weekend, have decided to try for a grog free week. Maybe I'll start tomorrow ...