Once was lost

There’s this weird thing that happens, where my boyfriend can’t find something, and the moment I start looking for it I find it for him.

I’d like to say I have a gift, but that’s really not it. It’s not as if they’re hard to find or anything like that. I think my boyfriend is just really, really bad at looking for things.

The other day he asked me if I could find the missing key on his keyboard. I glanced at the floor and saw something small and black partially underneath the couch. I bent down and picked it up. It was a key.

“Is this it?” I asked, holding the key up for Sam to look it.

He was shocked. “How did you find that? It’s been missing for ages!”

His TV remote has been missing for about a month now. Last night he was grumbling and moaning about it, and today I figured I’d have a quick look for it while he was at work. I pulled the couch out from the wall and found it on the floor. Simple as that.

When Sam came home I produced the remote and he look at me in a bewildered way, again asking how I’d found it. I told him he must not have been looking properly, because all I’d had to do was pull the couch out. He swore that he’d checked that spot about four times. I’m not convinced.

It’s not just these two situations. Throughout our relationship he’s lost things and I’ve found them for him almost instantly. It’s like magic.

Today he jumped on Skype with one of his gamer buddies, and said “Bro, Melissa found my remote.”

“She’s done it again,” the other guy said.

I like to think I’m building a reputation for myself.

Dogs welcome soldiers home

I don’t know if there’s anything more heart-warming to watch than videos of dogs being reunited with their owners after they’ve been away at war.

Probably the best thing about this particular video is the dog breaking down into literal howls of happiness. It’s absolutely gorgeous.

It reminds me of when I went away to France for three weeks. When I came back, the moment I walked in the front door our two Cavalier King Charles Spaniels immediately ran into the kitchen to sit by their bowls and wait for me to feed them. How sweet.

For more happy dog reunions, check out this link.

 

Shenanigans

In my final year at high school I found a cellphone that somebody had accidentally left behind on the bus. Being the responsible young woman that I was, I texted the guy’s mother to let her know her son had left his phone on the school bus. She asked me to get in touch with the boy’s girlfriend, as she went to my school. I did, and we arranged to meet up after our first class.

Seizing the opportunity while we could, my friend Janine and I spent the whole of that class filling his phone with silly photos of ourselves. I had crutches at the time because I had torn the cartilage in my knee, so when we set one of the photos as his wallpaper it showed me pretending to shoot Janine with the end of the crutch.

We were very pleased with ourselves when we gave the phone to that girl afterwards.

P.S I must be a super good person, because as well as giving that phone back, I once found $75 just lying on the ground and took it in to the school office. Tooting my own horn here but man, I’m great.

Bullies

When I was in year 11 at college I seemed to spend a startling amount of time getting threatened by people.

Alright, I’m exaggerating. I only got threatened twice that year, but it was probably the first and only times that someone had legitimately threatened to hurt me and actually meant it, so it stands out to me.

The first time was after I’d been texting a boy. I’d never met him, he lived in another town, but my friend knew him and had been texting him from my phone, and later in the day he wanted to continue the conversation with me. I built up something of a friendship with him, although I think he’d have preferred something more, judging by the amount of the times he told me I sounded like I was hot. I don’t really know how you tell that over text, but I think I was flattered.

I told him I wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship (I was a bit young and I didn’t know him at all), but that I’d still like it if we could keep talking as friends. He seemed fine with that, but then I didn’t hear from him for several weeks. I wasn’t overly fussed about this, but one day I texted him saying something along the lines of “Hey, I haven’t heard from you in ages. How’s everything?”

It wasn’t long before I got a reply. But it wasn’t from him, no. It was from his furious girlfriend, who I had not known existed.

What followed was a whole lot of her telling me to keep my hands off her man, while I tried to tell her not to worry, I wasn’t trying anything, I was just saying hi. She told me she wasn’t going to deal with my little schoolgirl bull**** and that she knew people who could find out where I lived. I can’t remember how that conversation ended, but I do remember that she never did calm down.

The second time also involved texting a random guy. I have since learned that texting random guys is just a bad idea.

A different friend had been texting a guy on my phone, again, and she eventually realised that he was the ex-boyfriend of one of her other friends. The other friend told her not to text him anymore, so she happily complied, but I was left to explain to him with my friend had suddenly disappeared.

Now, it has come to my attention that I say things, sometimes, that other people don’t want me to say. My brain doesn’t seem to realise that it could embarrass others, because it’s something that I wouldn’t mind other people saying about me. I can often be pretty blunt and don’t particularly like beating around the bush, so I find it difficult to take into account what I shouldn’t be saying.

I said to this boy that my friend couldn’t talk to him anymore because his ex-girlfriend asked her not to. I didn’t think there was an issue with this but it turns out I was pretty wrong.

The next day, this ex-girlfriend – Samantha – was refusing to speak to my friend because she didn’t want the guy knowing that she’d said not to talk to him. I sent Samantha a quick text telling her that I was the one who’d said that to him, and didn’t realise it would upset her, but please don’t be mad with the other friend because she hadn’t done anything wrong.

My phone died, and later, when I got home, I turned it on to find several messages from an unknown number, telling me to leave Samantha alone, or I’d be getting a beating. In the next few messages the unknown sender seemed to be becoming increasingly enraged that I hadn’t replied. I finally responded with something along the same lines I said to Samantha – I was just sticking up for my other friend who hadn’t done anything wrong, and I just wanted it to be known that I was the one at fault.

This person texting me, who it turned out was a girl in the year below me, didn’t seem to understand that I wasn’t insulting or harassing anyone, and after some discussion started to say that she knew exactly who I was, and I better watch my back. I went to an all girl school at the time, so needless to say I wasn’t particularly intimidated by a group of year 10 girls with a stupid grudge. In situations like these, I unleash the sass monster, because I don’t like people trying to intimidate me.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” I replied. “I need to go find a rock to hide under.”

“Are you getting smart with me, b****?” She replied wildly. At least, I like to think she was replying wildly, because that would mean I’d gotten under her skin.

At this point, Samantha herself started texting me too, berating me for getting smart with her friend. As you can assume, I was unapologetic. Where in the book did it say I had to be polite to the girl who was threatening to gather a group of her pipsqueak friends and beat me up? I didn’t owe her anything, she wasn’t my mother.

The conversation continued with me shamelessly winding up the other girl until I ran out of texts. I probably don’t have a very good sense of self-preservation, because if she had decided to seek revenge, it would have ended badly for me, even if she and her friends were a year younger.

The funny thing about both these times that people started threatening me was that they didn’t seem to listen to reason. Before I started simply winding them up, I really tried to explain that I meant no harm. I even did it politely, until I got fed up. It astounds me that these people couldn’t just calm down or talk logically, but instead launched straight into promises of hunting me down. It’s weird to think that people like that exist.

Anyway, I was prompted to write this post because I saw Samantha working at the supermarket today. She didn’t see me, and she probably wouldn’t even have recognised me anyway, because it’s been so long. I let myself feel just the tiniest bit smug that the girl who had unleashed her slathering hounds on me appeared to be working in a Pakn’Save. Only a little smug though.

No pain no gain

Running. I don’t know who decided it was a good idea, but I’m going to find out, and then I’m going to track them down and . . . well, best I don’t say anything incriminating.

I promised myself I’d go for a run today, finally get off my lazy butt and do some exercise. Instead, I lay in bed and ate an entire pizza on my own. My flatmate has been away all week and without her I feel next to no motivation to try be healthier.

As it neared evening a feeling of guilt came over me, and I decided I’d do it anyway. I’d still go for a run. The next 45 minutes were spent trying to make myself get off my bed and out the front door.

I started off at a light jog, feeling pretty good about myself. Then, about 30 seconds later, a stitch set in. ‘Ugh,’ I thought to myself miserably, ‘just reach the signpost in the distance.’

About halfway to the signpost, it started getting hard to breathe. You have to understand, I am not a fit person. I know you see people who look a normal weight and think they’re just being annoyingly modest when they say they’re unfit, but for me it’s the truth. I may not look like a fat person, but I am one where it counts: inside.

By the time I reached that signpost – and I had to break into a sprint to get there before my body gave up on me – I could barely breathe. Now, as I’ve already said in an indirect way, I do not run very much, but the feeling I experienced when I stopped at that signpost is something that I can’t remember feeling before while running. It’s not even as if I’d run the furthest or the fastest that I’d ever run.

I had incredibly sharp pains running all the way up my chest and throat, that stabbed at me whenever I tried to take even the shallowest of breaths. It felt like I was inhaling knives. I have never been in so much physical pain after a short jog, or perhaps after any exercise. The pain didn’t go away for the rest of the walk home. It was only about a five minute walk, I didn’t get very far, but the whole time I was struggling to breathe through the pain.

About halfway home I started feeling nauseous – again, something that hasn’t happened to me before – and feared that I might humiliate myself by throwing up on the side of a main road. Crossing my fingers, I willed away the nausea and continued my walk. Luckily I reached my house without incident, and it was only after dropping like a rock onto the couch and lying there for several minutes that the pain started to ebb, and the nausea started to disappear.

Is this what happens when you run after eating a whole pizza? Or is it because it was a cool evening and I hadn’t warmed up before I started running? Please don’t tell me it’s because I’m unfit, because boy does that make it harder to force myself out on those runs.

Fire and stuffed toys

I can remember the first time our parents did a fire alarm drill on us as kids. My brothers and I failed dismally.

I remember it well. Matthew, Robert and I were standing on our pillows on the floor, pretending to surf. The alarm went off, and the three of us picked up our pillows/surfboards and held them underneath our arms as we swaggered, yes, swaggered into the office where the sound was coming from.

Mum and my stepdad were sitting there with the alarm, looking disappointed that we hadn’t even attempted the get low, get out method that we hear on TV so often.

They made us practice it a few times after that, but Robert and I both got in trouble for trying to save our teddy bears in the escape. I remember wondering how I could ever possibly leave my teddy Tiberius behind in the event of a fire.

It’s funny what’s important to kids.

Stupid cars

UUUUGGGGGHHHHH.

What’s worse than car troubles? I’ll tell you what. Car troubles when you’re all alone in said car, with nobody to share in your humiliation and confusion, that’s what.

My flatmate is sick, so she hasn’t come to class today. No problem, I’d just go in on my own. It’s as if my car knew that she wasn’t there. That’s when it chose its moment to strike.

I’d just turned out of the student parking lot after my search for one of the coveted spots turned out to be fruitless. As I turned out, my car sort of just gave up. It was like I put my foot on the accelerator, but nothing happened. My poor little car simply rolled to a stop on a yellow dotted line, while other cars zipped past me.

I turned it off, then on again, then tried again. It rolled forward a little, then stalled.

Swearing, I turned on my hazard lights and let it sit for a minute. Revving it ridiculously high, I pulled out onto the road. In the 20 or so metres between that spot and the street where I wanted to park, my stupid car gave me grief like this about four times. I slowly crawled into a parking spot, sat in my car for a while feeling angry, then went to class. Maybe it’ll be normal when I go back to it at the end of the day.

It was really uncomfortable sitting there in this car on the side of the road, trying to make it work, and not having anybody with me to tell me what to do, or to share in my embarrassment.

Does anybody know what my problem could be?

I’M DESPERATE.

Dear Miley Cyrus . . .

Sweetie, I believe I speak on behalf of every single living being who has seen your performance at the VMA’s when I say what the hell was that?

1. Why does your tongue spend more time out of your mouth than inside it?

2. A lot of your dancing involves standing with your legs very far apart. It looks a bit strange, as if the skin between your thighs is chafing, so you’re being extra careful not to let them rub together. Briiiing the legs in bud, they’re not going to bite each other.

3. You seem to have misplaced your clothes. Of course, so did Lady Gaga, so maybe you can schedule a shopping trip together.

4. You also bend over an awful lot. Good for you, I guess, I try that after going for a run, but I can only reach halfway to the floor. Some day I aspire to reach all new lows like you. (that was a pun, and it sounds really catty, but I don’t want to delete it because I’m quite proud of it).

5. I do actually like your new song, wrecking ball. Maybe we could get a half decent music video for that one? Y’know, one where you aren’t channeling your inner stripper? Yes? Wonderful.

Kitten of mass destruction

My flatmate is away until tomorrow morning, and my boyfriend went back to Tauranga yesterday, so I’m feeling a little bit lonely at the moment. Sure, I have the kitten, but I go through fazes of either loving him or hating him, and he doesn’t really provide any good conversation, so while he helps a little with the loneliness, he doesn’t banish it by any means. 

After watching an episode of Community in which they construct a gigantic blanket fort, I was inspired to build my own in an effort to ward off the boredom brought on by being all by myself. It also gave me something to do that didn’t involve lying in bed on my laptop.

The kitten, of course, as all kittens do, decided that his task of the day must be total destruction of my masterpiece, so a scarce two minutes after I had crawled into the finished product, the roof collapsed in on me.

I should have known better than to try.

The lethargy won

I’ve changed my mind. I’m not getting out of bed today. Nobody can make me and my flatmate can’t make me feel guilty because she’s not here!

Cue maniacal laughter.