Well, that was awkward.

Billasaurus has been doing renovations for over 12 months- consequently we have been living in a construction site which has had it's interesting moments. (Last night I slept in our house without a front window. Yup. Fun.)

As Billasaurus is a plumber he is able to do a lot of the work himself, and where he can't, his group of friends trade favours. (Work favours; get your mind out of the gutter!)

This means there has been a plethora of tradespeople at my home day in, day out. Some days, the house is covered in dust and I discover my vintage teacup sets have smashed because some bright spark has decided they will jackhammer near the wall where they are stored. Or they decide that today is the day they all want to use the grinders/tile cutters/some other weird saw things when it's exam study day for uni. But there are also days when there are shirtless men toiling and sweating around my house, so I mean you win some, you lose some.

These guys: all welcome. I'm a great host like that.

We've gotten to know them all quite well, and one in particular has introduced us to his heavily pregnant wife.

Anyway, this chap's wife had the baby which is all very exciting. Billasaurus told me they had had a little boy, so I went out and go a little blue outfit, toy and wrote them out a card congratulating them on the birth of their newborn son.

Billasaurus was going to see the new family before I was, so I passed on the gift for him to give to the family. He came back raving all about how he got to hold the new baby; Samantha Jane was so tiny!

SAMANTHA JANE?! Turns out, they have a healthy baby girl. Not boy. Girl.

I am absolutely mortified. Bill swears he told me they had a daughter, and I'm vehement he said son. I specifically remember him saying it! 

Why would I have bought the blue and green onesie if he said daughter?! I specifically congratulation them on their son in the card, too :/

Gah.

Mother Time Comes For Us All

Holy fuck, it's happened.

Here I was, basking in my youth, frolicking about in the summer sun and living in my prime. Living in ignorance, and yes it was bliss.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday I was actually brushing my hair which has become a rarity during my summer holidays. (Don't judge me.)

The light shone directly on to my dark brown locks, but I did a double-take when one of those hairs glittered back at me in the mirror.

I HAVE A GREY HAIR. I'M TWENTY-FUCKING-SIX.

I'd like to tell you I'm above age insecurities, and that I recognise that one little baby hair that's come up grey doesn't make me old any more than the time I dyed my hair fire-engine red made me Ronald McDonald.

Even Ronald doesn't have greys yet.

Look, I didn't think I was invincible. I knew it would happen, and before it did I wasn't particularly dreading the day it did. I just wasn't expecting to spot a grey so bloody early!

Should I go on a mid-life crisis? Perhaps I'll trade my sensible Nissan Pulsar in for a sexy Lexus, with a topless buff man feeding me grapes from the passenger seat. He should definitely be younger than I am- so many middle age men live by 'You're only as old as the person you're feeling', so surely they are on to something. 

Just hanging around, waiting for me to pick him up in my fancy new ride.
So you're telling me he is older than 26? Be quiet you, with your facts. This is my midlife crisis fantasy, not yours.

But alas; I've grown quite fond of Billasaurus, and as a uni student can't afford anything other than my trusty 2 litre Pulsar. 

Have you got greys yet? You can tell me, I'm a trusted elder now. I'm wise.

Pavlova: Not supposed to taste like sweet, warm egg?

Look at me, posting and shit. (Oh, I swear. Did you forget that? Sorry.)

I was quite the baker over the Christmas period. That sounded like a brag, but I didn't mention what kind of baker I was. 

Insert random photo of BR and I in front of our Christmas tree. That shit's hard to capture in a selfie.

"Behold, my large festive indoor plant!"

It all started when my Mum said 'Can you bring desserts this year, I can't be bothered. And you are the only one who cares about dessert so it's on you.' With that kind of enthusiasm, what could I say. Only dear Mum could get away with that.

Cue a week later, and Bill's Mum calls. 'Could you bring desserts to Christmas lunch? I'm not much into sweet things, and you made that thing last time so well.'

1. I appreciate the flattery, it will get you everywhere
2. 'That thing' I made last time was a flipping Chocolate Ripple Cake. I don't have the heart to tell her how easy it is. It's better that she thinks I'm the amazing dessert wizard.

I'm an eager to please butthole sometimes, and I also overestimate my actual kitchen skills, and lack a healthy respect for what can actually get done in the space of a day. 

Did I just buy one of those pav bases like everyone else? Or did I buy one of those stupid looking egg things, that my Mum always seems to have banging around her cupboard despite never actually making the pav herself? 

NO OF COURSE I DIDN'T.  I decided (and touted to everybody, unwisely) that I could do it all myself, from scratch.

So this is how I ended up taking on the responsibility of baking the following for Christmas day:

1. Large pavlova for my family (to feed 15)
2. Large pavlova for Bill's family (to feed 11)
3. Christmas cookie platter x2
4. Fruit platter x2
5. Alcholic chocolate ripple cake
6. Christmas bark for part of Christmas gift 
7. Butterscotch Pie (also known as the devils pie; finicky, has a million ingredients, and is a much treasured tradition read: don't fuck it up)
8. Non alcoholic kids chocolate ripple cake

Far out, brussel sprout. How do I get myself into this. Also: I began all of this at 9pm Christmas Eve. 

Pav 1 (Test Pav)

Verdict: I pored over the Donna Hay recipe book to meticulously make the first meringue. It ended up with weird sugary bits on the bottom, whatevs. I can hide a multitude of sins with cream. After spending so much time on the meringue, I rested on my laurels and managed to fuck up whipping cream. Seriously?! So I put some raspberries on, to try and distract. No such luck. Cream was clearly separated. Fucking cream, trust it to pull this shit. You had one job cream.

Also, the recipe said to wait until it was cold to taste test. But your rules can't control me Donna Hay! So I taste tested while the pav was warm...and it tasted like wet, sweet, warm egg white omelettes. With strawberries. Makes me gag a little thinking about it. 


Pav 2

Much better. Except the pavlova weeped, and the baking paper is completely stuck to the bottom. So what did I do? Just cut around that shit so no one can see it. Let them deal with it upon eating. By then they've already got it in their bowls and can't put it back! Genius. Then threw a bunch of fruit on to distract from the paper. I learnt that from Constantino. 

I made this cake for morning tea today with my sister in law.

It's a big deal, but I've gone and done it: I'm adding a new rule to feminism.

Of course the old ones still stand; Women should be able to vote, have the right to control their own bodies, shouldn't slut shame other women.....but today, I've added a new one.

Don't ask a woman who has baked for you if said baked goods come from a packet mix. Don't be that woman.

Basically, if I assembled the ingredients and stirred it, I baked it. Lovingly. 

And of course it is from a packet mix you silly bird. But I don't want to tell you that, because once again you should acknowledge that I am the amazing dessert wizard.

I turned my back and this guy had managed to eat the chocolate melts I left on the coffee table.

He only pulls robust shit like that because he knows he is adorable.

So there you have it. Baking fails and successes, and a pug who is currently trying to get pity from me because his belly hurts from eating far too many melts. Trust me, it will only last an hour max. Then he'll go back to trying to eat the chair leg. 

I wish I was joking.

Harvest Picnic at Hanging Rock

My long-suffering boyfriend (it feels weird saying boyfriend, like im a 14yo?) Billasaurus is alot of things- hilarious, patient, kind....but one thing he isn't is a planner.

In January on a random trip to the beach, he asked me if I wanted to go away for a long weekend. Quickly my mind raced to Sydney, Brisbane, Perth, or perhaps Cairns....

In only 10 seconds this is where my mind went when he said "weekend away"

Bill's mind was quite set on going to Woodend. What? Where on earth is Woodend?

Turns out, it's only an hour and a half from home and that Bill was dying to see Hanging Rock in the nearby Macedon Ranges, having gone there as a little kid.

So in January, I repeat JANUARY, Bill said he would plan everything.

Fast forward to this Saturday morning and we were all packed and ready to go. For weeks I had been wondering about what kind of amazing events and accommodation he had planned, but didn't dare ask and ruin the suprise.

This might I add was killing me, because I have to know everything. Lol

We arrive in Woodend, pull up at an interesting looking brewery that the sign said also had accommodation, and I thought I had it all figured out.

Until Bill turns to me and says, 'Should I have booked accommodation? It's looking pretty crowded around here.'

LOL.

The following hours consisted of us driving around to all accommodation places in Woodend, and finding out there mere a multitude of weddings on in the area and something called the Harvest Picnic on at the Hanging Rock tomorrow.

We moved on to neighbouring Kyneton, where we finally found a room at a pretty dodgy motel.


It's funny- in a past life that would have really bothered me, but I have learnt when you love someone you can just laugh and even enjoy the adventure of last minute scrambling for a bed.



And so on a beautiful sunny Sunday, we found ourselves at the Hanging Rock.
I have never seen the film, but have read the book (albeit a million years ago).
Over the years I had heard how haunting and that the silence is eerie...well not so much, because the weekend we picked to go it was hosting The Age Harvest Picnic.

Becayse we arrived quite early, (far too early for lunch, anyway) we decided to hit The Rock first.

No, not that Rock

There are a few different walks you can do- one that goes around the base, another shorter scenic walk and of course, The Summit.

It was a very hot day. I'm not going to lie- I was hoping he was going to want to do the base or scenic walk, but of course I know him well enough to know we were always going to be doing The Summit.

The thing is about The Summit walk is that is almost entirely uphill. Funny that.
There were a few moments I cursed my fitness levels, and also my shoe choice. (New Witchery plain ballet flats proved to not have much in the way of grip on the bottom, which ensured some hilarious rock-slipping moments on our descent.)

Entertaining signage did lighten the mood when the ascent was particular sweat-inducing

 

The effort was truly worth it however whe we saw the view from the summit.

 We indeed picked the perfect day- during our climb we could hear the band playing on the ground below, and when we were finished up we perused the gourmet food markets, had some lunch and enjoyed a well-earnt beer.

Have you been to Hanging Rock? We recommend it!

(My muscles are a little bit stiff today, but it was so worth it!)

Happy Love Day!

Today is the day to tell your partner/family/colleagues/postman/friendly neighbourhood hobo how much you love them!

Even if it's just you saying to yourself, 'Hey self, we rock!'

I LOVE Valentines Day.

Fuck the Valentines Day grinches, I say.

Ive organised something a little bit special for Billasaurus this year, which I shall report back to you about once I know how it goes down.

But in the meantime, if you are feeling romantic and are interested in some early 2000's nostalgia, THIS is how Billasaurus and I met.

Hope you all have a fantastic day ♥

Be a Mexican, Not a Mexican't!

Please be very, very careful when reading out that post title.

Three of my close friends have birthdays only a week apart, so naturally every year there is triple-the-fun shindig in their honour.

This year, the three amigos decided to (quite logically) choose the theme of the party to be Mexican.

Naturally, my first thought was this costume-

Buy one here. Seriously, live my dream and do it.

Billasaurus, however patient the man is, drew a line at the taco suit. I got it in my head that there was no point in going alone as a taco, because really, who ever just has one taco? Unfortunately he wasn't so keen, and considering ive forced him to dress as the worlds tallest Gremlin before, I figure I'm still ahead.

So instead I went as Frida Kahlo!

I appear to have missed a little something during my last plucking session

The real and magnificent Frida herself-

I love the vibrant colours she used in her self-portraits, and her style. I think its pretty badass too not to pluck your monobrow and 'stache too- why should women feel ashamed of something that is quite normal? What percentage of men actually give a fuck? Definitely not the majority.

That being said, I shall continue to wax and pluck but admire the hell out of people who don't give a fuck.

The night began with pre-drinks at my tiny little flat (single file only, standing room but plenty of booze) drinking simply put, the beverage of The Gods.

Let me share with you this complicated recipe. Don't worry about a pen, I think you'll be able to recall it.

Source

I'm not joking- it tastes like magic and unicorns! To be more specific, it tastes just like the clear gummi bears! Where has this been all of my life?!

My skills with eye pencil drawing monobrows must be my hidden talent, because all night men were whispering and giggling in my direction. It was quite disconcerting, because I forgot that this little gem was painted upon my face. To be honest most of the time I was thinking, 'GOSH I KNOW IM NOT A PRETTY GIRL, BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO FLAT OUT LAUGH IN MY FACE!!!'

Der. They were looking at the giant fuzzy caterpillar perched atop my brow.

It was actually quite the conversation starter, and there was one gentleman (I use this term loosely) who was obsessed with stroking my monobrow even though there was no actual hair there, and offered for me to stay the night at his residence.

I got the impression he wasn't keen on my despite the brow, but BECAUSE of it. Different strokes for different folks, hey?

Costume Parties

I LOVE THEM.

Yep, Im that person who squeals excitedly when someone mentions a themed party.

In fact sometimes, I get a bit TOO into it.

Last year Mum had a K themed 60th Birthday party. I went as Gene Simmons, but flat out refused to take off my makeup at the end of the night. After really getting into the swing of the character, I wouldnt let it go! Billasaurus had to literally drag me into the shower kicking and screaming (screaming rock anthems and flicking my long tongue simultaneously) to get the makeup from my face. Only minutes earlier I had asked Billasaurus if he fancied getting it on with Gene Simmons, whilst I posed on the bed provocatively.

Billasaurus is the most patient man Ive ever met but even that was too far for him.



KISStastic! (Please ignore my teeth, I got black face paint stuck in my braces. Yup.)




My hilarious sister Chelle and her husband Ben



My Dad went as a kitchen drawer



Billasaurus Rex and myself



As always, shit got kind of messy towards the end of the night

 It's almost my birthday, and I'm thinking themes for my 25th. Let's take a trip down memory lane costume party wise...





Being a gremlin at Soundwave....



Bizarrely green tinged pirate wench...




Queen of Hearts on NYE... (also the Queen of Drunk Eyes)



Imagine my embarassment when I arrived to the S party and found two other Sailor Moons, who had purchased beautiful costumes from the Internet. I had just sewed some random shit on to a bonds singlet and painted over my eyelids. Oh the shame. And inconvenient having to close your eyes all night in photos, lol.



Witch costume...funnily enough this one matched my personality the most, lol.

...Wow. And that's only in the past 12 months!

Any suggestions for a theme for my 25th? Something a little bit 'out there'?

Remember Babs?

You know, you met her in this post?

Well, she's back.

In my efforts to think about the ultimate place to hide Babs last time, I promptly forgot about the whole ordeal. (Which is quite typical for me, I must say.)

Going to Japan and thinking about buying my sister Chelle a doozy of a souvenir triggered a creepy little memory.

Stay tuned for odd Babs- where will she pop up next?

7 Days

.. I will have arrived in Tokyo, no doubt suffering from extreme culture shock!

Like I mentioned in this post, I have been quite stressed with uni and whatnot lately.

It hit me like a lighting bolt- how can I possible be stressed when soon I will be visiting Disneyland?!

I went to a winery the other week. It was lovely, but nothing especially post worthy. However I went to the bathroom (stay with me here) and look who I saw out the window?

This little guy (im assuming from his colourful feathers that he is indeed a he) flitted next to the window back and forth, quite happy for me to take photos.

Look what I found when on the hunt for boardgames- Sylvanian Families!

Man, I had forgotten about those. I used to be so envious of my cousins giant Sylvanian treehouse and collection. They come in meerkats now?!

When is too old for Sylvanian families I wonder. Or do I just claim to be collecting toys for future children? Actually, thats probably even creepier than buying for myself.

I purchased my first Inglot pallette. The excuse was that it is perfect for travelling and more secure than my MAC palettes. Who wants to dick around with bubble wrap the whole time im on my trip?

I was initially sceptical that they would be as good as my MAC shadows, but im impressed. They are so soft and buttery!

On Monday (!) night Billasaurus Rex kept me up all night.

...not in that way.

He asked me to come to his house- I told him I would come over, but I would have to finish my homework at his.

I get there- he is atrociously drunk. He was an absolute menace.

When I finally got around to commencing my homework, turns out his computer doesnt even have MS Word.

I had to set the alarm to 5am, so I would have time to go home and finish the assignment, get ready for uni, and hand it in at 9.

Less than impressed.

I'm lucky that I get to read the paper and get paid for it.

When I finally arrived to work, my blearly eyes looked at the above headline and read it as 'Our Ice-Cream Wave'

I smiled and was happy that we had a positive news story on the cover for once. I imagined a giant wave of Neopolitan ice cream waving its way through my city.

Der.

Doesnt that just show my naivety too?

Sorry for the boring post today folks, i'm feeling flat getting everything organised to go away!