Last week I quit my job.
Most people who know me saw it coming, but for the many people I know through work, it was completely unexpected. So far, everyone has reacted with ‘Omg, what’s happened?’ and I suspect, knowing my tendency for dramatics, they are assuming that I cracked without warning, slamming the manual lift door while screaming ‘I QUIT!’ and storming off down La Trobe Street.
Alas, it was not so exciting and unlike the time someone put spag bol all over the bin in the midst of a bug infestation or the time I realised someone was stealing the toilet paper (I still have my suspicions, but no proof), there was absolutely no hysterics.
Resigning was a massive relief and although I had a TINY panic attack in between being offered my new job and quitting my current one, it wasn’t long before I was getting excited about taking a huge step off my current career path and throwing caution to the wind.
There’s something liberating about having absolutely no idea what the heck you will be doing a year from now, and, to quote my ever-unreliable Fortune Telling Fairy Cards, I am moving forward fearlessly!
Gone are the days of work-related panic attacks and swatting bugs as I sit at my desk – it’s time for freedom, creativity and full, uninterrupted nights of sleep! Woo hoo!
As mentioned above, I do have a new job lined up, which I am very excited about, but leaving my current role will also allow me to look into new opportunities, to focus on my blog and what I really want to do – to DANCE!
Okay, that was totally a joke, but I have spent a fair chunk of the past few days thinking about the future. Now is the time to work out exactly what I want to do and how to do it… But in typical Tennizzle-style, I have become overwhelmed by the decision.
Ideally I would win lotto and spend the next few years jetting around the world, renovating my house and volunteering my time to the greater good… however accepting that this is not going to happen and that the chances of anyone paying me to hang out with my dogs for a living are just as low, I am going to need a more realistic plan.
I have decided to focus on copywriting, but without it being part of my everyday work.
So far, I have taken the massive steps of purchasing my blog domain (check it out, I’ve dropped the ‘wordpress’ from my site, la di da!) AND getting my own personal domain for the future… I haven’t quite worked out how to set up a website or get it hosted, but I’m on my way! I can feel success in the air!
I’m starting with a bit of blatant self-promotion to people I know professionally and am hoping to start putting a portfolio together in the coming months. As a result, my blog will be growing and although my regular, neurotic posts will continue, I will also be using this page as a means of collating writing until I have a proper website.
In the meantime, if you see someone with a sandwich board reading ‘Will Write for Food’ standing outside Flinders St station next month… please stop by and say hi!
When it comes to vegetables, I am the first to admit that I am absolutely clueless.
I’d like to claim I grew up in a vegetable-free household which would explain this and several other unexplained mysteries, such as why the heck I can’t use cutlery like a normal person, but it would be a lie.
Adding to the confusion, I was a dedicated vegetarian for seven long years and I still have no idea about vegetable-related matters!
I recently found myself making a salad at someone else’s house. I was trying to be all helpful and enthusiastic, but quickly found myself having a small panic attack when faced with something I suspected was a zucchini, green skin and all, and didn’t know what the hell to do with it… peel it? Don’t peel it? Slice it? Bake it? Throw it in a cupboard and pretend it was never there…?
Turns out it was actually a cucumber and yes, you can eat the green bit!
This is just the most recent of many situations I’ve had resulting from my lifelong vegetable confusion. Others include:
I’d heard of the elusive yam but was pretty happy living in the knowledge that it had never crossed my path. It just didn’t sound like a friendly vegetable, or a tasty one for that matter, but more like some kind of angry little man in a cape wielding a Bamm-Bamm style club.
That was, of course, until I blogged several months ago about my fear of mashed potato and for some reason, these yams kept coming up in my comments.
Do you like yams?
How do yams make you feel?
Do you eat mashed yams?
Things were getting weird.
I was confused and finally accepted that it was time to consult my friend Google.
So, for anyone who is unfamiliar with the yam equation, here it is:
Yam = Sweet Potato = Awesome!
You know those cultural miscommunications you have when you are so clueless as to what is going on you just smile and nod and accept that you will never know the truth? For me, Kumara was one of these.
For quite a few years, when kiwi friends kept saying things like ‘it’s kumara, right?’, ‘does this have kumara in it?’ and ‘I’m going to get kumara on the side’, I was seriously confused. Initially I thought kumara was a bird or maybe a person, but after much smiling and nodding and a whole lot of confusion, I realised they were simply trying to say ‘sweet potato’!
Better than that girl I once heard about who told her boss at a staff event at a chalet that he ‘had such a nice long deck’.
Ah, bless those little kiwis!
However, the real beginning of my vegetable confusion can only be blamed on one vegetable…
Many years ago, while still reasonably new to the world of vegetarianism and after a chinese doctor told me I was going to die if I didn’t eat meat, I made it my mission to learn to cook vegetables. I bought myself a cookbook, aptly titled ‘Learning to Cook Vegetarian’ and dog-eared the pages of anything that looked even remotely manageable (ie. Had less than ten ingredients) for experimentation.
One of my first attempts was some kind of baked creation, which seemed pretty straightforward. I copied down my little list of ingredients… garlic… onion… potato… turnip… turnip? Turnip! What the heck was a turnip?
Keep in mind here that this was before the days of Google on your phone, or even readily available high-speed internet, so my investigation of what the heck a turnip was consisted of squinting at the photo in the recipe book and by process of elimination and some vague recollection of a turnip character in a childrens book I had read long ago, came to the conclusion that it was a root vegetable with a sprout, which may or may not also have big eyes and wear a pair of runners…
Not one to shy away from a project I have committed to, I decided not to scrap the chosen recipe and chose another, but to take my new found knowledge to the supermarket to source the aforementioned turnip and everything else that the recipe called for and, of course, me being me, I got everything else and left the turnip for last.
With pretty much no idea what I was actually looking for, I had been standing in the root vegetable area for a good twenty minutes, reading all of the price labels when I found it. The excitement was overwhelming:
Turnips – $3.50 per kg | Beetroot $4.00 per kg
I looked up to the corresponding box and to my horror, there was no separation between the two vegetables – just a whole load of round things rolling around in one big box!
Having never seen beetroot except from can, I had reached a whole new level of confusion. Refusing to accept defeat or ask for help, I took a gamble and grabbed what most closely resembled the turnip I had envisaged – I figured if they had been stored in the same box without proper labels, there can’t be much difference anyway… Right?
Needless to say, to this day, I have never cooked or bought a beetroot OR a turnip ever again.
Other awkward vegetables I have encountered include ‘Green Onions’ (which, it turns out was my Fast and Fabulous cookbook seeing how far I would go to find a vegetable that DOES NOT EXIST), ‘Chinese Leaf’ (otherwise referred to as any leafy Chinese vegetable, walking around the markets asking for Chinese Leaf is not recommended!) and ‘Pepper’ or ‘Bell Pepper’ (which, contrary to popular belief is referring to a capsicum, NOT a chilli!) amongst many, many others.
On a side note, a few weeks ago I finally worked out how to install emoji emoticons onto my iPhone. Clearly a fairly simple task once you realise it’s an app.
My newfound love of emoticons was going well, I’ve been throwing them in here and there to create confusion or make a completely unclear point. In the midst of a recent texting conversation, I needed to throw in something completely unexpected. Insert Emoticon:
Think to self: A PURPLE zucchini! Of course! No one will see it coming!
The response: “Eggplant?”
Last week, I bid a sad farewell to something that has brought me much joy throughout my life… something that has been a comfort, a treat, a staple and a convenience… pasta, my friend, it’s time we went out separate ways.
I had been fighting it for months, refusing to accept that the crippling pain in my stomach was directly related to the wheaty goodness I had just eaten but after dealing the horrific possibility that I may have had to say goodbye to cheese, I (reluctantly) accepted my fate, and with it, I had a shocking realization… I was not just, after twenty-something years, slightly intolerant to something… I was getting old.
So I started Googling the ‘Seven Signs of Ageing’ that the make up commercials warn me of… I don’t wear make up, so the ads were all I had to go on.
But, being in my late twenties, the signs, which include wrinkles, pores, blotches, dullness, unevenness, tone issues (not the vocal kind – there’s no saving them!) and dryness, weren’t very applicable… I mean, don’t we all get wrinkly, dry and a bit blotchy every now and then? Most often following a night passed out on the bathroom floor after too much Chandon Rose?
I had a think about what’s changed over the past few years. Sure, I can’t bounce back from a night out like I used to, I no longer approach things with the blind optimism of a teenager and having a mortgage is a fortnightly reminder of being a full-fledged grown-up, but I realized that I do have seven regular reminders that I have, most definitely, left my youth behind…
Sign 1 – The evil bloat
For me, it was pasta, but the evil bloat can be caused by a range of foods and drinks normally associated with happiness and joy… cheese, wine, pizza, beer and cider to name just a few. At one point I remember being keeled over on the bathroom floor, actually thinking I was either dying, on the brink of an appendix explosion, or pregnant.
The first theory proved incorrect when I was still alive the next day, the second didn’t match the Google explanation of where my appendix were actually located and the third was quickly shut down by my friend who told me Jesus would not consider me a good candidate for an immaculate conception.
Alas, I had experienced the evil bloat and there was no going back.
Sign 2 – Discussion of the evil bloat
I know, I know, I’m kind of throwing myself into this one by even writing this post, but I was out with a group of girls my age a few weeks ago and in the midst of a fun night of wine and celebration, the conversation actually came to a discussion of food intolerances and stomach bloating.
For a good ten minutes, I was totally engrossed in the conversation until I stopped and took a long, hard look at myself… oh, the shame!
Sign 3 – Physio visits more than once a month or two
This time a year ago, I had never even been to a physio, now I find myself there so often that my physio knows more about my life than most of my friends do.
The other day we had an awkward moment when, mid-consultation she questioned why I had a line of black ink down my chest… I refused to tell her, she was persistent, I wasn’t budging and things got awkward. I think she felt betrayed… as a result, my shoulders are just going to have to sort themselves out for a few months!
Sign 4 – Fear of fluorescent lighting
Quite possibly one of the worst inventions ever, in recent years I have had numerous run-ins with fluorescent lighting, many of which led to at least ten minutes of horror, realising that overnight I had become a pasty, wrinkly mess before realising that I do not actually resemble a corpse and the lightling is just messing with my head… I swear to destroy you one day, fluorescent lighting…
Sign 5 – Regretting those personalised number plates I got when I was 21
Not because people might assume that I am a bit of a bogan, but because they’re clearly stating your year of birth… and I know, I have absolutely no excuse for driving like this at my age… but if you just gave way to me whenever I tied to cut in, we wouldn’t have a problem, would we?
Sign 6 – I have no idea how to download music
Being someone who works with social media and manages websites and databases at work, I have absolutely no excuse for this, but I honestly have no idea how to download music… or movies… or tv shows.I STILL buy the box sets when they are released.
I do, however, have fond memories of Napster and Limewire and when you’d be halfway through belting out Whitney Houston’s ‘I wanna dance with somebody’ when full-bore white noise would scare the crap out of you and you’d nearly crash your car… ah, those were the days!
Sign 7 – Finding yourself muttering ‘Ah, the kids these days…’
Yep, I know… What have I BECOME???
Arghhhhhh! For the second time in a matter of weeks I am teetering on the edge of missing a whole blog week! I admit, I have no one to blame but myself and as the hours of Friday fly by, I’m getting desperate!
So, while I spend the most part of my weekend frantically writing in an attempt to post two entries next week, I have decided to dazzle you all with some pictures and general randomness… Brace yourself! Here’s five life-changing facts!
1. I once had really bad hair. I have realised this after looking through my old travel blog (http://blog.travelpod.com/travel-blog/tennille/travel_2006/tpod.html)… hilarious! It was actually a very traumatic time in my life so let’s not discuss it any further.
2. Have you met my friend the awkward turtle? No, he’ s not upside down, he’s awkward! Sheesh!
3. I met a leprechaun last weekend… I was wearing a blonde wig at the time. Fascinating story, I know!
4. Ginger Dog likes scarves…
5. And, oh look, a snowboarding opossum!
Yay! Super exciting blog entry promised for next week!
People often ask me stupid questions and accuse me of doing ridiculous things. I have no idea why.
I admit, I have been known to sticky tape my colleagues chairs to their desks in moments of extreme boredom while in the office out of hours… and put Christmas decorations all over someone’s computer screen in April… I might have also stuck a photo of a random person on another colleague’s backpack right before he got on the train home (I thought it’d be nice for him to have some company)… however I absolutely hate practical jokes and have no interest of hiding something that belongs to someone else, jumping out at someone or ruining someone’s food (I’ve had salt in my beer and it is not fun, and yes, I count beer as food, sheesh)!
I’m also incredibly bad at keeping a straight face in funny situations, am always the first to crack when trying to go along with a joke and am a terrible liar.
The other day, I was in the kitchen at work, making my lunch and a colleague came in to check on his sandwich, which he’d left in the sandwich press. He walked up to it, stopped, turned to me suspiciously and said ‘Did you turn the sandwich maker off while my sandwich was cooking?!?’
I started laughing, which I don’t think helped the situation, but denied any involvement. He eyed me suspiciously, switched the press on and watched me as he walked away, hesitant to leave his sandwich unsupervised in the kitchen with me.
This got me thinking about how often these wild accusations are thrown my way and why. The next time I saw him, I asked why I am always the suspect when something happens… his response: ‘It’s probably because you’re small’… fair enough.
So, to share a few of the highlights with you, these situations have occurred with family, friends, colleagues, boyfriends and randoms. I’m convinced it’s because of my openness and warmth that people feel comfortable saying these things to me… that, or I’m just plain sneaky-looking…
Q: Did you hide my ipod? (Work colleague)
A: Huh? You have an ipod?
Q: Did you hide my wallet? (Work colleague)
A: No. Has it been stolen or did you leave it at home? (turns out he left it at home, although this question was asked at least five more times that day!)
Q: Did you pay for that jug of Sangria? (girl working at a bar)
A: No, I stole a whole jug of sangria without you noticing, you fool (sarcastic). Did you LOSE a jug of sangria?
Q: Did you just suggest that my boyfriend is autistic? (a friend)
A: Ok, maybe… It was a miscommunication. But it was very, very funny.
Q: Did you delete the company’s entire website? (IT guy at work)
A: Erm… nope, can’t say that I did. If I had any urge to delete the whole site, resulting in massive problems for no one but myself, I’d probably suggest I should be committed.
Q: Did you intentionally lock me out of the house? (an ex-boyfriend)
A: No, the door locks itself, you moron. I’ll bet you’re feeling bad about punching the glass door in now, aren’t you?
Q: Did you just put the dog on the barbeque? (my mother)
Q: Did you break the front door? (My mother)
A: I TOLD you when I opened it that it was broken and you said it had been like that for months!
Q: Are you arranging for me to meet up with the guy I like when I visit you and not telling me? (A friend)
A: Huh? I am too confused to even try to answer that question.
Q: Did you pick up my friend The Albino?
A: No comment.
Q: Where’s my plate? Did you take it? (Work Colleague)
A: Of course I did, I put it in the fridge. That’s what you get for suggesting I sabotaged your sandwich!
Okay, so there’s been some crazy shizz going on with WordPress lately.
When I logged in on Sunday morning I was shocked to realise that somehow, in my sleep my blog had doubled its daily view record (whatever it’s called). After some slight confusion and a bit of investigation, I realised that not only one or two but FIVE of the blogs I actively follow have been Freshly Pressed in the last week! Yay for y’all, I’ve been clicking like wherever possible and hope you’ve all enjoyed the fame and fortune that I imagine it brings!
But – this was not where my joy ended! The lovely Lyndon of The Dissemination of Thought had nominated me for The Awesome Blog Content (ABC) Award! YAY! I am thrilled to pieces, even though it’s taken me ages to find all those words!
So, as the rules of the award go, I am to:
- Thank the person who gave me the award
- Choose one word that describes me for every letter of the alphabet (for some I just chose words I like)
- Pass it on and nominate blogs which I think deserve fame and notoriety
So, first up, many, many thanks to Mr Keane and The Dissemination of Thought for nominating me! One of my favourite bloggers so far, Lyndon is flipping hilarious and his posts never fail to make me laugh. He’s also kind of a big deal, so I’d recommend you become his friend and WordPress stalk him before he hits it big and forgets us little people!
And for the alphabet of ME:
*I don’t actually think I’m a cat, but how good is that word?
**I’m also not a pug, but I love them!
***I can’t actually yodel, but I had no other Y. I’ll give it a shot if you pay me!
****I also wouldn’t describe myself as plump or full-figured, but it sure beat zany
And for the blogs I would like to nominate:
www.pithypants.com – I just discovered this one today, very funny and clearly an Arrested Development fan! I can’t wait to read more from her!
www.imnotfamousandneitherareyou.com – I nominated Emily last time, but she’s still hilarious, and still reminds me of me.
www.dampsquid.wordpress.com – Another one I nominated last time, every time I visit this blog I end up giggling at something on there!
www.sarahpalma.wordpress.com – This bloggers name is Sarah Palma, which reminds of both Twin Peaks and Chicken Parma, what more can you ask for?
Sorry for only nominating four, it’s bedtime and I’m starting to type crazy things as I doze off in front of my computer screen!
Thanks for reading my blog and for all the wonderful new followers I have gained over the past few days! Yay!
I was reading a crock of sh*t article a few weeks ago about the dating ‘rules’ and the growing trend amongst women to revert back to strategies of old to snag a husband.
You know, the standard stuff like a woman should always ignore three phone calls before answering one, she should practice kissing on a mirror to avoid disappointment and she should always wear pantyhose, or some other equally ridiculous crap.
This is all well and good and if you’ve had success following this rubbish, good for you! However, there seems to be a lack of quality advice aimed at men.
Honestly, I suspect one or two of my previous flings might have been attempting to follow the female-oriented rules… I’ve had the experience of someone feigning being busy just to inconvenience my schedule, I also suspect I may have dated one or two who learnt to kiss (and god knows what else) with a mirror… then there was the guy with the pantyhose… I joke, I JOKE!
Alas, when I looked back on the various men I have dated over the past few years, I had a shocking realisation… I am actually sitting on a goldmine of dating advice. So, good blog readers, I have decided to share this with you. Based on my own dating experience, I feel that I can assist all of you semi-psychotic bachelors out there, by providing some great advice that I have learnt from the men who have come and gone in my life.
So here are my top ten rules for dating women:
1. If your mobile phone is running out of battery in the hours leading up to your first date, sending a text to the person you’re meeting is a great idea. Turning up to a busy meeting place and sitting at the bar waiting to be discovered is not. If you asked her out, there’s a good chance she can’t remember what you look like!
2. If you forget your wallet or don’t have enough money to cover your half of dinner, do not wait until the bill arrives to advise your date of this. If you’ve managed to scrape your gold coins together and split the bill, do not invite your date back to your place to ‘hang out’ if your next request is going to be that she cover the cab (or bus) fare for both of you.
3. If you have an aversion to washing your clothes, try to at least remove the obvious marks from them before your date. If your date notices them or questions whether you are, in fact, wearing the exact same pants for the fourth time, try lying. Do not admit that you don’t EVER actually wash your pants because they’re dry clean only and you only have one pair.
4. Despite how awesome you think you are, try to avoid telling your date (repeatedly) of how certain you are that she really likes you. Similarly, comments such as ‘I knew you liked me the second I walked into that bar’ and ‘I know you’ve already thought about having kids with me’ do not lead to the assumption that you are boyfriend material.
5. Even if it is prefaced with ‘Don’t take this personally, but…’ the comment ‘can you just stop asking me questions?’ is not the way to impress a girl and is always going to kill the conversation.
6. If you end up dating someone to the point where you’re sharing a bed, try to avoid sleep talking as much as possible. Sure, talking about breakfast or your job while deep asleep can seem funny enough, but talking about how you are ‘going to have lots of sex and beat the sh*t out of them all’ is only going to scare the crap out of your date.
7. If you ride a bike, try to avoid bringing it on a date. If you must, do not then proceed to talk on your phone for the first 5 or so minutes after meeting, while your date walks beside you… Sure, you’re giving off the impression that you’re cool and that you want to make a speedy exit, but you’re also confusing the crap out of your date, who will spend the rest of the evening wishing that she took that 5 minute window of opportunity to get the hell out of there.
8. Emotional stories such as how your parents divorced when you were seventeen, resulting in you still hating them for humiliating you, may seem like a big deal to you, but sharing them on your first date, or any date for that matter, should be avoided. It was TEN YEARS AGO, for God’s sake, get over it!
9. As much as you may love them, eating two salad sandwiches a day does not make you a foodie by any measure. The people you work with may find it hard to believe that you eat TWO salad sandwiches every day without fail, but for your date who was talking about her passion for food, you just became really freaking boring.
10. Whatever you do, and no matter how emotional you get while out with a girl – DO NOT CRY. Do not cry when discussing your failed relationship, do not cry when talking about sport and no matter how extreme the circumstances, do not cry over dinner!
In writing this post, I’ve not only revisited and cleansed my soul of some of the more negative dating experiences I’ve had, but I’ve also decided that in the vein of He’s Just Not That Into You and The Rules, I’m going to write a book. It will be titled She Thinks You’re a Raving Lunatic.