The Chronicles of Verity Blackwell

Magic Manifestations

2011-08-10T04:50:00.000-07:00

Hi all

This is just a quick little story about something that happened last weekend, not funny in a sense, just magical.

I was in Melbourne last weekend for the "I Can Do It" conference that is put on annually by Hay House. It was a wonderful 2 day event with Louise Hay and 6 leading authors who spoke at it and gave the most wonderful insights into life and positive living.

One thing that seemed to be a recurring theme of the conference was having positive thoughts and then following them up with positive words and positive actions. Combining all three allows you to remain happy and content and be grateful for all the beautiful things we have been given in life. And when you start to notice all the wonderful things we already have in life, you start to draw more wonderful things and experiences to you. It's a basic principle of the Law of Attraction. You manifest the things and experiences in your life that you think about most.

On Saturday night I was out with two of my most wonderful friends and we'd decided to have dinner at a popular busy restaurant at Melbourne's South Bank area. I love South Bank in Melbourne, actually I love most places called South Bank it seems. We have a brilliant South Bank in Brisbane and London has a gorgeous South Bank that houses the Globe Theatre - so of course it's brilliant.

We walked into the restaurant and the waiter came and spoke to us. He said there would be a 35-45 minute wait. "But what about that table" I said to him, whilst pointing to a table behind him with 3 seats which would have been perfect for us. He said that table was already booked and would not be available for 35-45 minutes. Next I tried the "cute tactic" and opened my eyes widely and innocently and said "But I've travelled all the way from Brisbane to be here tonight". To which the waiter replied "Me too, when did you get here?". He obviously gets girls try that line on a fair bit. But he didn't expect my reply of "Just last night". I could tell from the look on his face he now realised I wasn't flirting with him, I was telling the truth. After all, if I wanted to flirt and make myself out to be someone from a far off exotic place - I'd pick somewhere like Brazil, not Brisbane!

I asked my friends if they minded if we went inside to the bar and waited. I really like this restaurant and I wanted to eat there cos it was my only chance to have dinner in Melbourne. So we went inside to the bar.

As we went inside I looked deliberately at the empty table with 3 chairs and thought "We'll get a table like that". I didn't know how, but I knew that there would be an empty table for us.

My friends reached the bar first and started ordering, as I reached the bar I turned to look around the room. When I did I noticed a table with 3 girls at it right behind me.

And then the miracle happened.....

I watched as the 3 girls picked up their coats and bags and left the table. A waitress immediately came over and started clearing the table. I walked over to her and asked "Can we please sit at this table?" and without even checking a booking sheet or asking anyone, she looked at me and said "Sure". I grinned from ear to ear as my two friends turned around and saw that I had found us a table. B walked past me and sat down and said to me "Did you do this?". B had been at the conference with me and we'd been talking about the whole "Manifesting" idea.

I simply smiled at her and said "Yep I did"!

Now it may seem like a coincidence or it may seem like something small or incidental, but my friends and I needed a table to eat dinner quickly that night as we wanted an early night. And we got one.

Who knows what I will manifest next?

Love Verity

Verity Blackwell Readers Survey 2011

2011-07-21T15:05:00.000-07:00

CHRONICLES OF VERITY BLACKWELL 2011 READERS SURVEY RESULTS

First results are in. More results will be revealed over the coming weeks as we look at more of what's going on in your relationships! We split these questions into city and country readers to see what the differences might be.... what do you think it means?

Are you satisfied with your sex life?

*CITY*	*COUNTRY*
*47% Yes*	*61% Yes*

Have you ever “faked it”?

*CITY*	*COUNTRY*
*59% Yes*	*68% Yes*

Do you “fake it” regularly?

*CITY*	*COUNTRY*
*23% Yes*	*32% Yes*

Does size matter?

*CITY*	*COUNTRY*
*59% Yes*	*34% Yes*

Why do Women Fake it?

2011-07-21T03:36:00.000-07:00

Hi all

The survey I recently conducted has finished and results are in. I decided to slice the results into city vs country when I heard the track "I Faked It" by country singer Jasmine Rae. Some strange and interesting results there! We've teamed up to release the results to celebrate the release of her track.... check out the clip below and visit her page at www.jasminerae.com.au

Jasmine sings "Every time I smiled and said I loved your momma, I faked it
When I told you baby no need to lose weight, yeah I was fakin' that too
And this one is really gonna blow your mind
Every time you thought that you were king of the night - surprise
That's right, I faked it."

As for me, I've been in a couple of relationships where there has been a "mother-in-law from hell" and I am proud to say I never faked a smile. The smile on my face was real because I knew that these women are really just jealous that they are no longer "the hot young girlfriend".

Sadly I've never been in a relationship where the man needed to lose weight, always the opposite. And it's comments like "Perhaps you ought to beef up a little bit" that have kept me single. But 65kgs for a 6 foot man really is tragic!

And finally, could girls please stop "faking it" in the bedroom! All is does is perpetuate the duds! If you happen to sleep with a man that is a dud - please be honest enough to tell him rather than smile and fake it and then pass him on to the next woman to be disappointed. Be a sister, let him know honestly..... and if possible - train him up a bit before letting him loose back in the market!!!

Love Verity

My Tea Leaf is Swimming

2011-07-18T01:26:00.000-07:00

Hi all

I drink a lot of tea, not plain black tea or English breakfast, but green tea and herbal tea. I am still getting through a load of tea bags that were given to me for my birthday three years ago.

My favourite sort of tea is peppermint, I think it must be the tea of choice of many of Brisbane's residents as peppermint tea prices have risen a lot lately. The rise in tea prices has forced me to stop buying my regular brand of peppermint tea and instead by a cheaper unknown brand of tea.

Thus far I have not been able to taste the difference, however the tea bags just don't have the structural integrity of the more expensive brands. So occasionally a teabag will break and a few tea leaves will float out. It's not a big issue, I usually just fish them out with a spoon.

But the other day I found something really different when my tea bag split. At first I noticed a few tea leaves floating to the top, but then....

One of them started moving around the cup. Since there are no waves in a tea cup to push items around I had to assume this leaf was moving on it's own. Maybe this was one of those magic tea leaves that clairvoyants read. Perhaps it was telling me I was about to go on a journey?

But then I inspected the leaf a little closer.... this was no leaf. It had six little legs that were indeed doing something similar to a dog paddle.

Ewwwww, it was a bug. Those cheaper tea bags have bugs in them. I don't know how that happens or how the bugs got in there. But ewwwwwwww.

I fished the bug out, thought seriously about still drinking my tea and then tipped the tea out. There might be more of them still in the bag.

I decided to inspect the box the tea came in and when I looked closely, there were little bugs making their way throughout the whole box. And they were eating holes in the tea bags.

Now I figure that either the teabags are cheap because they know about the bugs..... or the teabags are in fact under priced because the bugs could be seen as a source of protein and hence increase the value of the tea.

Either way.............

I'm back buying expensive tea.

Love Verity

Real Magic

2011-07-02T22:29:00.000-07:00

Hi all

I was inspired to write this post by a wonderful and talented Street Magician I had the pleasure of being introduced to a while ago.

Like most people, I love magic, I love watching the shows on television and even more than that I enjoy watching live performances. But unlike most people, I have no desire to know how it all works. So many people want to know the "trick" behind the magic so that they can understand what has happened and how the illusion works.

Rather than know HOW the magic works, I prefer to know WHERE the magic is.

I'll explain myself more..... the HOW of magic is all about the speed of the magicians hand or how the fine art of distraction whereby the audience is looking one way while the magician is doing something that is "unseen".

So the HOW is quite simple really, loads of practice, stage presence and charm are all that's required for this.

But this is not the MAGIC in my opinion.

The MAGIC for me is in the EYES of the magician!

The next time you see a magic show of any kind, watch the eyes of the magician and how they light up when they perform their acts. To me that is the real magic!

Like all artists, magicians like to entertain and captivate their audiences and transport them (if only for a minute) to another time and place where life is full or mystery and fun. This is why I love performance arts, because it's a way of connecting with each other. The performer and audience can go on a short journey together to discover something new and interesting, a place where cards can move through a deck or people can levitate. What a brilliant way to escape from life for a bit.

The answer to WHERE the magic is (in my opinion)..... is that the magic is in the soul of the person who wants nothing more from life than to stun, amaze and bring joy to the people they perform for.

So perhaps it is not the magician that makes the magic but....... the MAGIC that makes the magician!

Love Verity

You can be Without a Goal - But Don't Lose Your Dreams

2011-06-29T05:25:00.000-07:00

Hi all

This is a topic that is close to my heart as I recently found myself without a goal for a year or so and I always thought there was something wrong with me. But after talking to a group of my peers (career oriented women between 25 and 40) I think it's perhaps a right of passage all women go through. Potentially all men too - but it's a little harder to get them to open up.

So here is basically what happens to us.

First off we go to school and we are taught to compete with each other and with boys to achieve success. Success might mean winning the softball game or topping the class in a maths exam. When we get to our teens we are taught we are powerful sexual beings, but exploiting that sexuality is slutty and wrong, instead we should improve our brains and look to attend an institution of higher learning and finally obtain a job that was traditionally a "male job".

At first I didn't question this because I was all for women's liberation and equality. But this isn't equality! Equality is having the same rights and opportunities, not being forced to change everything we have as women and become men. My main concern about this is - when women become like men, what do the men become?

For years I set goals and achieved them almost mindlessly. Finish high school with good grades, get into university, finish university with good grades, get a job, finish post graduate education with good grades, get promotions etc etc etc.

Each time I successfully attained a goal I never stopped to congratulate myself on my success or to recognise all the hard work and effort I put in. I just looked for the next goal and went about achieving it. After talking to other women it seems we all do the same thing. It's like we're programmed to achieve business "success" no matter what the cost and whether or not we actually want it.

I saw a job ad the other day which put it all into perspective for me. It wanted "Outcomes Focused People". And that's what many of us are. But what about the journey? What about the time between outcomes? And at what cost are these outcomes being achieved?

My fear is that, if we continue to focus only on outcomes we'll get them.... the most final outcome being death. And for what? You can't take money, career, status or success with you. So those outcomes are somewhat irrelevant to me now.

Rather than think about all the things that we have which we can't take, perhaps we should consider what we can leave!

By that I mean, we can leave an impression, we can leave a lesson, we can leave an opinion, a view or a standpoint. These could be seen as outcomes, but rather I like to consider them as all part of the journey.

So for all those women who are feeling that they have no goal at the moment because they've reached a point in their career where they have achieved everything they set out to.... don't be scared. It is alright not to have a goal, because even when you have no goals you have passions and dreams.

Here's what you do - first figure out what you are passionate about. Remember back to when you were young and what you really truly loved doing, if you still love doing this thing it could be a passion. Once you know what you are passionate about you will find yourself starting to dream. Dreams are brilliant because in them we can formulate an overall plan. Some people are lucky because they have these dreams at a young age. Olympians have dreams, Martin Luther King had a dream, many ,musicians have dreams. For the rest of us, we had them as kids and for some reason we let them go.

But once you get your dreams back, that's when you'll be able to formulate goals. Goals are the little steps involved in achieving dreams. Each one is small and should be done in order so you can build up to that dream.

So find your passions ladies - they are more than likely linked to your incredible feminine strength and beauty!

Love Verity

Neediness - Not Just Found in Women

2011-06-28T21:14:00.000-07:00

Hi all

And another dating story. You'd think I'd been busy recently, but truth be told, it takes me a while to remember funny stories and then get to a point where I am comfortably writing them.

This one is not necessarily funny but in he essence of mass education of females everywhere I have decided to write it.

I recently went on a number of dates with a man who was as nice a guy as any but exhibited some traits that have helped me see why men consider neediness a turnoff when women exhibit it. I've always heard men say that a girl is too needy and I never quite knew what it meant but now I have a good idea.

So here is what I've observed:
1. (Not sure this is needy, but is certainly weird) Don't wear the exact same outfit to the first three dates. And this is even more pertinent if it's not something you would wear in order to impress someone. So for all those girls out there in fear of seeming weird at a first date - avoid wearing the same thing three times unless it is by Dior. And even then, not many straight males would recognise it was by Dior. Better to put on 3 of your best different outfits each time.

2. Don't "claim" the man you are dating before you have established if you two are exclusive or not. By claiming I mean, sweeping statements like "You're mine". Or "I can't wait till you meet my family". Those sorts of statements should be reserved until you have established the other person is your boyfriend/girlfriend/romantic partner.

3. Now this one is more for the men, women doing this can still appear needy but could pass this off as cute. Sidling over to your date in a restaurant and placing your head on their shoulder and trying to look cute. I guess some women could come across as cute doing this. But I think men wouldn't really find it appealing. But when a man does it to a woman - it can only be described as creepy and scary.

4. The last act of neediness is not necessarily directly needy - it could be described as honest. But as a warning - don't ever let someone know you've been recently diagnosed with a mental illness. I realise that honest disclosure is often seen as a good thing. But perhaps it is better left until later dates.

Needless to say, when I dated a man who exhibited all these traits I no longer found him attractive. And now I am quite clear about why men don't find "needy women" attractive either.

So to all those single sisters out there - the moral of this story is thus - ensure you own more than 3 outfits, don't claim people, don't pull pathetic acts of snuggling in public and don't disclose any mental illness until you are well and truly cemented in the relationship.

Good luck

Love Verity

No Room for Honesty in Dating

2011-06-25T16:48:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Here's one that happened a while ago. I guess it's another of my failed dating stories. I have to be thankful for them, because if I was in a steady healthy relationship I might run out of writing material.

So this story is about an amateur film maker I went on a date with. He currently has a TV program on a community TV show which is quite popular.

The first thing I noticed about this guy was that he was super duper keen for me to watch his program. During our date his program was airing on TV and he actually took calls and text messages from people watching it whilst we were still at the dinner table on our date.

I wasn't sure about that sort of behaviour. I think it's rude to take personal calls on a date, although I think I am "old-fashioned" because I have been on a few dates now where men have thought it was quite acceptable - to the point of holding lengthy phone calls with relatives whilst on a first date with me. Perhaps times are changing.

So anyway, I walked away from our date, thinking that this chap was a nice guy and looking forward to potentially seeing him again.

The very next morning he messaged me to tell me his show was on and get my opinion on it. I guess he might just be passionate about his work and with that thought in my head I dragged my butt out of bed and decided to watch his show.

It was actually a decent program - very amateur but informative and fairly entertaining. Immediately after it finishing I received a text message from him asking what I thought about it.

This was really an awkward situation to be placed in, but I am an honest person and I want any guy I wind up with to respect me for that trait. I decided to go for "the positive sandwich" approach. It's the best way I can think of to give open and honest feedback. The positive sandwich means you start with a positive comment, followed by a negative one and then finish up on a high note with another positive comment.

So I found my best trio of positive sandwich comments and sent them to this guy in a text message. I was so proud of myself for finding a way to be supportive and yet honest at the same time. I think it's a very mature trait.

Well..... that's where it ended. I never heard from this guy again. Hehehee.

So I'm mature.... and single. Hehehehe.

It just goes to show that honesty doesn't have a place in dating. Perhaps honesty starts after marriage.

Love Verity

Busting Business

2011-06-25T04:37:00.000-07:00

Hi all

This little story is hilarious to look back on but was quite possibly the most terrifying moment of my life to date. It happened a while ago and it's taken me a little bit to come to terms with the humiliation.

It all started after I had presented a training session.

I was so proud of myself for getting through the whole training session and not once embarrassing myself. I was presenting to a group of respected peers so there is no way I could bear it if there was a "Verity Moment". And thankfully there wasn't. The training progressed as planned and ended well.

As I walked out of the training room and got into the lift with a friend, I mentioned to her that I should have probably popped by the ladies toilet. She replied that I would just have to "hold it". I think that was the moment of doom so to speak. The thought of "holding it" made me think about how much I actually needed to go.

As I said goodbye to my friend and headed towards my car in the car park the panic set in. And then the thought occurred to me "I can't hold it".

Once panic sets in, the ability to think rationally is gone, I know this from my study of psychology (and also general reflection of my own behaviour in situations of panic). So I take no responsibility for the series of events that occurred.

My car was parked under a small set of shops, so I went into the shopping area..... toilets locked. Righto I thought as I walked a block to the other side of the shops and looked for the other toilets.... those were locked too.

At 9.30pm very few places are open in Brisbane on a week night and I figured my best bet was to head towards the mall. Half way there I saw my salvation, a small sushi cafe. I walked in and swallowed my pride and asked the girl if they had a bathroom. She politely told me that they did but that she was not able to give me the key. Shame has never been an issue for me, so I calmly explained to the girl that I was indeed busting and that if she could at all help me out, I would be eternally grateful. (I thought it best not mention to her that if she didn't help me, she might need to get her mop out - because there was about to be a mess on her lovely lino floor). She firmly replied that if she got caught on the company security cameras it would be the end of her job.

I just wanted to pee for goodness sake. Not cause someone to lose their job.

So in order to not waste any more time I politely excused myself and continued to head for the sanctity of the mall.

It's times like this that I regret not living in a big city like New York where places are open to all hours of the night. There was not a single business open and I had now basically done a full block and was almost back to where I started.

I made it to the mall and prospects were not looking much better at all. One out door cafe was open but I knew for a fact they did not have a bathroom.

I was just about to give up and accept public humiliation upon relieving my bursting bladder in the middle of the Queen Street Mall when a thought occurred to me. The top level of the Wintergarden shopping centre had to be open as they have restaurants in there that are open to 10pm.

I had ten minutes!

I tried not to run and draw attention to myself, the morning headline in the local paper of "Crazed Woman Runs to Bathroom" was not an appealing thought.

I got to the Wintergarden and nearly died, the centre is in the process of renovations and the usual exits were blocked off.

Just when I thought my luck couldn't get any worse I spied an entrance and proceeded to the top floor.

Well you know the rest, the ladies toilet of the top floor of the Wintergarden is now hallowed ground for me. That place saved me great humiliation. I'd made it with 2 minutes to spare - not sure how long my bladder would have lasted though.

As I walked out of the toilet, smiling to myself in a rather pleased way (Verity 1: Bladder Nil) I realised that the renovations meant I could not exit the building the same way I had entered. "Oh great" I thought, "Now I am going to be stuck in the toilet until morning when someone rescues me".

Luckily this fear did not eventuate, as I saw a girl heading towards a lift. I followed her and made it out of the Wintergarden and headed back to my car.

I think the definite lesson in this story is that more businesses need to be open late at night. If only for the public service of providing bathrooms to busting business women!

Love Verity

Desktop Dust Bunnies

2011-06-18T04:47:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Like most offices, we have cleaners that come every night and are responsible for tasks like emptying the bin, vacuuming the floors and wiping down desks.

For quite some time now I've been settling little booby traps to see if these so called cleaners of ours actually clean anything.

Trap #1: I've emptied the contents of my hole punch on the floor near my bin (you know the confetti stuff) in the hope that I would find it gone the next morning. However when I came in the next day the confetti was still there.
So obviously vacuuming is not part of cleaning.

Trap #2: I didn't actually lay this trap. Instead I fell victim to it. Apparently refilling toilet paper in the ladies toilet is not part of cleaning either. I'll spare you the details but needless to say one Monday morning I raced into work and straight into the ladies bathroom after an hour stuck in traffic. And.... I was then stuck in the ladies for another 10 minutes until someone came in and could pass me some paper.
So refilling toilet paper is not part of cleaning either.

Trap #3: Most recently I cleared the top of my desk, because cleaners are not allowed to move anything on our desks. I thought I would leave my desk bare to allow them an opportunity to clean it. But instead of coming to work and seeing a nice clean desk the next day, all I noticed was that you could actually see "dust bunnies" on my desk! Gross.
So wiping down bare desks is not cleaning either.

Frankly it appears that the job description cleaner is as much an oxymoron as that of council worker.

I wonder how much they get paid. I could do that job... that is, do nothing but empty bins for pay.

Love Verity

Fone Foreplay

2011-06-11T05:02:00.000-07:00

Hi all

I am guessing the title of this post caught your attention, however it's not about what you think it's about.

No, I am not going to list the top five SMS messages to "get him in the mood".

Instead I want to pass on a pearl of wisdom told to me by a friend who was told it by her friend. I figure the word of mouth girl to girl communication channel is brilliant, it's a little slow, and so in the interest of sharing knowledge to as many girls in need as possible I am posting this message.

I've recently been testing the waters of internet dating (not so much water involved as perhaps wifi waves) and I've not hidden that from my friends as it's interesting to get their perspective on things. After all, I'm a woman, we chatter - it's just how we roll!

So anyway, after discussing Internet dating one day, my friend added that she had another friend who'd done Internet dating (although I think this tip actually applies to all forms of dating in the current decade) and made the following startling discovery.

Apparently men consider SMS messaging prior to a date as putting in effort to get to know a girl - a form of foreplay. So then when you go on the first date with them they actually believe they've laid the ground work and hence deserve to get laid themselves.

Upon first hearing this information it came as a great shock to me but then the reality started to sink in and I'm starting to realise it's true. Men are not the communicators women are and hence when they take the time to send an SMS to a woman they believe it's a big thing and constitutes making an effort. Whereas for women, sending an SMS message is as effortless as breathing so there is no way we'd consider it as effort made towards "intimate relations".

So here's the lesson girls, if you meet a nice guy online, have a face to face meeting as soon as possible and minimise the phone calls and SMS's. That way, when you do have a first date it can be exactly that... a first date and not a booty call because the guy thinks he's on date number 5 or more.

Please pass this vital information on to your friends.

Love Verity

The Oddities of His Lordship

2011-06-07T02:12:00.000-07:00

Hi all

There is a certain chap I work with whom I refer to as His Lordship, mainly because of his demeanor in the office and his airs and graces.

His Lordship is a complex individual and I find many of his behaviours odd. At first I thought it was merely that is a man and hence from Mars. But I know many men and I can understand some of their behaviours quite plainly.

I started to question my knowledge and understanding of the opposite sex.

Perhaps I am out of touch?

No wonder I am single!

But the other day His Lordship did something that confirmed to me the oddness rests with him and certainly not me.

I was sitting at my desk and talking on the phone to a Tax Office employee (wonderful chat companions they are) when I saw His Lordship at his most odd.

He calmly strolled past my desk and into the office of our payroll officer, remained in the room for a short while and then strolled out closing the office door behind him. It was very odd behaviour, as the door to that office is only closed when the payroll is being done. It's become a standard signal in the office to let staff know that pays were being processed and to only disturb the payroll officer in a life and death situation.

I sat staring at the closed door in complete puzzlement. I wasn't even listening to the tax office employee anymore.

The funniest thing was the reaction that this action got. When I got off the phone I saw our assistant accountant in fear, she needed to go in the office but didn't dare interrupt whatever procedures were going on in there. I tried to tell her that no one was in there, but she hadn't seen His Lordship come out and was convinced he was still in there. I had to get up and walk over to the office and open the door to prove to her that it was safe for her to go in there.

Neither of us could work out why he'd closed the door, unless it was to lift staff morale by convincing people they were getting paid twice this month.

Who knows really...... it's just another of His Lordship's oddities.

Love Verity

The Verity Blackwell Relationship Survey

2011-06-06T04:51:00.001-07:00

Take the survey today!

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/ZR7PWVH

Elephant Entertainment

2011-06-04T20:02:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Here's another funny little one that happened the other day and made me laugh really hard.

I sit behind a large glass window at work, sort of like a fish bowl, and regularly people walk past and either tap the glass, stare at me, poke faces or deliberately ignore me.
There's been times when I've been tempted to put a sign on the wall saying "Don't tap the glass and don't feed the animals".
Or perhaps start making fish faces at people and blowing bubbles.

The funniest people are the ones who feel the need to come and squish a part of their body up against the glass. I've seen it all, squished noses, squished lips, squished cheeks and even squished boobs!

I always laugh because none of these people seem to notice that the glass wall has never been cleaned! The term cleaner is an oxymoron when used to refer to the people who come into our office and empty our bins.
I'm not sure what kind of germs are on that glass, I don't think I'd be keen to push any part of my body against it anyway.

My favourite "window visitor" is our receptionist, she's lively and fun and bubbly all in one package. We have a game, the "Elephant Game".

Have you ever noticed when you mouth the word elephant it looks an awful lot like "I love you".

So the game is played like so......

We see one another on the other side of glass and feign great love and joy and mouth "Elephant" and this is followed by laughs and giggles before she walks back out to reception and I get back to work on the computer.

That is how it usually goes!

However, the other day.... whilst being caught up in the emotional exhilaration of the "elephant" declaration I failed to notice we had an audience. And it was not until I was about to go for my big finale of pretending to fall off the chair (only demonstrated in "extreme elephant" circumstances) that I say one of the guys staring at the receptionist and I with a look that was either amusement, shock or plain bewilderment.... I can't be sure.

I was so embarrassed, but the embarrassment faded as we all ended up laughing at the silliness of the whole situation.

I guess you can't take yourself too seriously, can you?

Love Verity

How does the fairy tale work again?

2011-06-03T04:20:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Yes it's another one of my soul searching posts, it seems when I am not doing something silly I spend most of my time soul searching. Two polar opposites really... but then again, that's what makes me who I am.

I've been considering fairy tales and how they work in real life. I'm actually starting to think that the Grimm Tales are far more accurate than the Disney renditions.

Most young children, although primarily little girls, are read fairy tales by their parents before they go to bed and this leads to dreams of becoming a Princess and meeting a handsome Prince and falling in love (at first sight ofcourse) and living happily ever after.

But what does that translate to in real life?

Here's what it's meant for me.....

At 18 I met Prince Charming number one. My first true love. It wasn't love at first sight, but it was definitely real love for me. We lived 2 states away from one another for almost 4 months and I never looked at another man. I wrote a letter a day for the majority of that time and then learned........ he'd cheated on me.

At 21 I met Prince Charming number two. He was a classy fellow, he was the "drunk and sleepy Prince". This Prince had a habit of getting drunk in clubs, going to the toilets and falling asleep in cubicles.
All the time!
It was hilarious, I would always have to get men to go into the toilets and fetch my Prince for me. I guess it was nice that he could felt so relaxed.

At 22 I met Prince number three. By now I figured I knew all about life and meeting Princes and should have the whole process mastered.
But in this situation I not only had a Prince to contend with, I had a Wicked Queen (his mother) to deal with. The Wicked Queen saw me as an evil temptress stealing her youngest son away from her, so the relationship was doomed from the beginning - a poisoned apple of a relationship.

After Prince three I was really starting to question the fairy tale relationship. Cinderella didn't meet three or more Princes she only met one. What was I doing wrong?

Prince number four was the closest to Prince Charming so far. It lead to an engagement and fairytale wedding being planned.

But it ended too.

Sleeping Beauty never had to deal with a failed engagement.

So how does this whole fairy tale gig work again? What happens in happily ever after? Did they have kids and have numerous sleepless nights? Did they go through a messy divorce when the Prince started sleeping with the Milk Maid?

Here's my idea of what a fairy tale is....... for me at least.

The Verity Fairy Tale is set in a small city in Australia, where a little Princess (Verity) lives in her apartment where she is happy and comfortable. She dances and writes and works and is happy. She's working towards having a house and dogs and being able to work from home and do the things she loves.
Princess Verity is actually quite happy without Prince Charming in her life. She figures he's out there somewhere doing the things he enjoys. And one day when they are both ready, they will meet.

Who knows what happily ever after holds..... but I'm happy right now!

Love Verity

The Price of Cheap

2011-05-20T06:22:00.000-07:00

Hi all

So the other night I had a date.

And now that you've gotten up fro falling of your chairs, I'll continue.

The date was with a handsome Irish man that I had met a few days before. He was good looking, intelligent and had the most gorgeous accent ever. After our first meeting he said "I'll call you during the week".

I've seen "He's Just Not That Into You" enough times to know that I should have waited for him to call but I was so excited to get to know him more that I sent him a text.
Text messaging is a totally evil form of communication, once you've sent one you then sit in agony waiting for the other person to reply. You don't know if they just haven't seen their phone or they are ignoring you.

But my initial stresses were for nothing, as after a little bit of cute text-flirting, we organised a date to go for a walk in the city.

I'd planned to walk home with my friend from work, but she and I agreed I should walk half the way with her and then get on the bus so I could rush home to get myself ready so I could look "casual" and ready for a stroll. Looking casual means a shower, washing my hair, light make-up, three different outfit choices before selecting the perfect mix of casual and cute.

As I walked out of my apartment, I saw him... still cute, still Irish and ..... wearing a tracksuit?

I immediately regretted rushing home to get ready, I spent 45 minutes getting ready and he hadn't shaved. I tried not to read too much into that, perhaps he was signalling he felt comfortable.

So we drove into the city and went for a walk, quite literally, we walked for a good half hour. I assumed a walk meant 10 minutes and there would be a restaurant at the end of it. So when we'd strolled and chatted for half and hour and the topic of food had not come up, I couldn't help myself.

I politely asked if he was hungry and was stunned when he answered no. It was dinner time - what sort of man isn't hungry at dinner time? I was gobsmacked for a while and then figured I had better be assertive. So I said "Well I'm hungry, so I want to get some food". After five more minutes of walking he said "Actually, now that you mention it, I'm hungry too".

What a relief.... he was human and not from some strange planet of Irish people who don't eat.

So we got dinner and like a gentleman, he offered to pay when I reached for my purse. I decided to let him pay for dinner, it's a nice gentlemanly thing to do.

We left the restaurant and he drove me home, there was a lovely goodnight kiss and then he gave me the look...

You know the look! The look that says he wanted to come inside and do more than just kiss.

I politely told him that there was no way that was going to happen because I didn't want him to think I was the kind of cheap girl who jumps right into bed with just any guy.

And his answer was "You're not cheap, I bought you dinner".

There it was right there, the comment that let me know exactly how much I was worth. I was worth $15 worth of pasta. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, I felt worth about 15 cents. 15cents doesn't buy you much these days.

I looked at him, smiled and waved goodnight as I walked back into my apartment. I know I'm not a Victoria's Secret model, but I'm worth more than $15. Next time I'll wait till the guy contacts me first, if he only wants one thing, then he should have to work a lot harder!

Love Verity

My Energy-Efficiency Rating

2011-05-03T04:39:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Just thinking to myself tonight I've realised that, much like some household appliances and white goods, I have an energy-efficiency rating. In the case of white goods like a washing machine, the rating tells you how much power the washing machine will use while getting your clothes sparkly clean like in the Nappy San ad.

In a fairly similar way, my energy-efficiency rating is about how much energy I expend doing my day job to a satisfactory level.

As I see it, the ultimate goal is to find a job you love doing. That way if you use 100% of your energy on it you will still walk away from it each day feeling happy and satisfied.

However, this is not always the case. Many of us find jobs that we are able to do well and make enough money to pay our bills and ensure we have a bit of time and money left over to use to keep our happiness levels high.

It was during a discussion with my manager over lunch the other day that I actually vocalised my energy-efficiency rating. Till then I'd merely been thinking of it as a theoretical concept. However in an act of complete honesty I took the risk of saying exactly what I thought.

My manager mentioned to me that performance reviews were coming up and that my performance, whilst being solid, was not exceptional. I think he actually expected I would be disappointed to hear this comment, on the contrary, I was pleased to see he'd noticed.

I explained to my manager that the company was paying me about 90% of the market salary for a person with my skills and experience - and in a fair exchange, I was giving 90% of my effort to the company. I made it clear that it was not because I was angry or bitter about not being paid more - but that I believe in a fair exchange or energy and rewards.

My boss was gobsmacked!

I continued to explain that, at present, I enjoy my job and do it well and am happy the majority of the time while I am at work. This is a very good thing in my eyes. And the fact that I am not using all my energy in a job that I don't "love" so to speak, means I have some energy left over to teach accounting, study a Masters Degree, attend events at the Institute of Chartered Accountants, write these little stories and do my dancing that I love so much. All these extra curricular things make me exceptionally happy and I can even earn an income from some of them.

I had to explain that I'm not feeling driven to achieve more at my job because I am achieving so much for myself when away from my job. The poor chap was puzzled and tried to argue that I was not living up to my potential. I bet he'd had that said to him as a kid by his dad. Poor guy.

What he couldn't see is that I am actually living up to my potential for success because my measure of success is happiness and contentment - not money or power or status. Whilst these things are needed to an extent they are not what I desire most.

I'm living my dream! And for the first time in a long time I am completely happy with all I do.

So my energy-efficiency rating is brilliant. I can achieve 100% of my tasks in my job with 90% effort. And I can achieve 100% of my happiness and satisfaction with my spare time - only 10%! Not bad eh?

Love Verity

Crepes: The French Way

2011-04-26T05:17:00.000-07:00

Hi all

This one is short and sweet - well the story is... the actual crepe itself was savory and took me a long time to eat, probably longer than it will take to write this story.

I was recently in the fair city of Melbourne, the closest thing Australia has to a cosmopolitan/ bohemian city. I love Melbourne because I could go out in the city in my pyjamas and I wouldn't look out of place. I love that.

Melbourne has a diverse mix of people and hence a diverse mix of fashion and a diverse mix of food. The food is brilliant!

So my friend and I were wandering around the lovely alley ways of Melbourne considering what we should have for brunch when she suggested crepes. We went to this tiny little alley with a few stores and cafes in it. One of them is a crepe cafe and it is run by French guys.

I love French people - they know good food and good drink and they are dead honest blunt with you. We walked into the teeny tiny cafe and asked if we could get a table. The main waiter turned around and said "No". He then turned back to the barrista and continued to make coffee. My friend and I looked at each other perplexed, as there was a free table right in front of us and yet he'd said we could not sit down. He must have sensed our confusion as he turned back around and said that they were in fact one staff person down and were ridiculously busy and hence he would not be able to serve us. He said he had lots of coffees to make and the dished were piling up and there was no one to wash them up.

This is where I won him over.

I looked the lovely well spoken French waiter dead in the eye and said "I will wash your dishes". My friend quickly agreed and we both nodded enthusiastically.

I think it was this comment that won over his heart because he told us to wait 10 minutes and then he would serve us.

See the French are known for their directness - but us Aussies are known for getting in and lending a hand. I think he was so shocked that a couple of Aussie girls were so keen to taste his delicious food and drink his delicious coffee that we would wash dishes for him.

So we went away and waited. When we came back I noticed a long line of people who wanted to eat at the cafe. "Darn it" I thought, "We've missed our chance". But then when I looked inside I saw a table, set for 2 people and no one sitting at it. I popped my head in the door of the cafe and the waiter motioned that the table was for me and my friend. How sweet, he'd been turning customers away for the two Aussie girls willing to wash dishes.

You gotta love the French, I don't know any other cafe that would turn a paying customer away in an act of loyalty like that.

It all worked out brilliantly in the end, I asked the waiter to order for me because I figured he would know what was best on the menu. I drank my lovely long black coffee and enjoyed my crepe with a smile on my face the whole time.

It was such a brilliantly French experience, and could only happen somewhere like Melbourne! Love that city!

Love Verity

Please vote for me in the People's Choice Awards

2011-04-19T20:09:00.001-07:00

Please vote for me in the People's Choice Awards

2011-04-16T18:26:00.000-07:00

http://www.sydneywriterscentre.com.au/bloggingcomp/peopleschoice.html

Email Errors

2011-04-12T05:10:00.000-07:00

Hi all

This one happened the other day and was just the little comedy break required in my otherwise stressful day.

It's Fringe Benefit Tax time in Australia and as such we get the delight of talking to our Tax Consultants more frequently than usual. I'm not using sarcasm, I like our tax consultants as they give us loads of useful information and my speciality has never been tax.

In our busy lives today we tend to use electronic communication and chat services far more in business conversations that either visiting people or picking up the phone to call them. I've always figured it's because you can send an email and focus on an important conversation and drink coffee all at the same time.

However I may reconsider that opinion from now on as I am since learnt that I struggle to send an email, drink coffee and breath at the same time without committing a colossal faux pas.

My email was in response to a message from our Tax Director who was introducing a new staff member for us to contact and deal with. I always like to acknowledge the response of an email with a prompt reply and so I penned (figuratively speaking) the following response "Thanks very much for that "Tax Director", I shall add "Staff person" to my address book right away".

I'm always a bit informal with this particular tax director as we've now worked together quite a bit and have built a friendship and good working relationship.

So it came as quite a surprise, when a couple of hours later I got a message from my boss - I'd copied him in on the email to the tax director so he could see how prompt and proactive I was. His message simply read "You will do what to staff person?"

It was only then that I scrolled down and re-read my email - the wording was a little different to what I remember having typed. It read "Thanks very much for that "Tax Director", I shall ass "Staff person" to my address book right away".

I was mortified! (for about half a minute) and then I broke into hysterical laughter. I pointed out my error to my colleague and she joined in the laughing. We were so loud that my boss popped his head into our room and commented that he needed a good laugh.

My boss passed the comment that I should use the spell checker more often. But the sad thing is...... I did! It seems I'm quite a potty mouth and my email is quite used to me typing ass. Oh dear.

I decided to call our tax director and apologise to her. She said "Aren't you lucky, it was me. That gave me a much needed laugh."

Phew! Now I appreciate our tax consultants even more!

Love Verity

Defining the Dateable Guy

2011-03-25T18:56:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Recently I was "pulled up" on my definition and categorisation of men - apparently all of them are quite negative.
That made me stop and realise that yes, the way I talk about men is often quite negative.

In order not to be categorised as a man-hater, I stopped and thought about what the positive categorisations are of men (I realise it's wrong to categorise and generalise about human beings - but... I'm going to anyway).

So here's my first positive categorisation of men - The Dateable Guy!

The dateable guy is a somewhat rare creature to find and at times seems to be on the endangered listing and fast heading towards extinction. I'm always interested in preserving our beautiful natural flora and fauna and hence I think it's important to try and preserve the dateable guy for posterity.

So here's a guide on locating, attracting and preserving the dateable guy.

1. Locating the dateable guy - this is the hardest part. Dateable guys are notoriously hard to find and rare. Also, they have no clearly identifiable mating call, so you can't tape record it and play it when searching the jungle that is the dating scene. Dateable guys are often hard working and have hobbies so they aren't found lazing about in pubs during the week or on the beach full time (unless they are pro surfers or life guards). No, the dateable guy is often hard at work doing a job he enjoys and making money to secure his future and fund his favourite pass times and travel requirements. Meeting a dateable guy is often a chance meeting that occurs when you enter the workplace of one - although he might actually be so hard working and focused that it might be hard to attract his attention. My suggestion is to "accidentally" bump into him. Other ways of meeting the dateable guy are online or through friends. Remember you will need your wits about you when talking to the dateable guy because he's not just focused on appearances, he enjoys interesting conversation as well.

2. Attracting the dateable guy - once you've located a dateable guy and caught his attention great skill is required in attracting him. Dateable guys have high standards and know what they want from a relationship. The best course of action is complete and utter honesty. Be witty, charming, intelligent and utterly cute. As women, we're naturally all those things - but we often find ourselves so caught up trying to be whatever it is that the "pretentious guy" wants that we forget to we our wonderful natural selves. The dateable guy is nothing like the pretentious guy and can see straight through any little white lies and falsities, honesty is the best policy in order to attract him. Dressing to attract the dateable guy must be a good balance of modesty and feminine sexuality. Dateable guys appreciate women who like being women.

3. Preserving the dateable guy - sadly, in efforts to be "easy to be around" women often kill off the dateable guy. Dateable guys want to be "real men" and hence want to take care of women. We girls try to be too modern and open car doors for ourselves and pay for our own dinners. This behaviour scares the dateable guy into hiding or forces him to change into the guy who is ruled by an "equal opportunity woman". What we fail to realise is that dateable guys are not chauvenists, they actually want to spoil women and treat them like princesses. So in order to preserve the dateable guy, us girls need to take off our "independent-capable women" hats and let him take charge once in a while. It doesn't make us any less self sufficient or independent and it will preserve the dateable guys and maybe even transform them into the next category of men... the "long-term relationship guy"!

So ladies don't dismay, the dateable guy is out there and not extinct yet. But he's not the one groping you in a nightclub or harassing you in the bus line.

Love Verity

My latest party trick! Look Mum! No hands!

2011-03-20T03:53:00.000-07:00

Hi all

It's been a while but I'm back in form with another wonderful typical Verity moment.

This one involves the discovery of a new talent of mine which henceforth shall be my new party trick.

I discovered my new talent whilst tutoring a group of accountants. Just a small group of 12 or so and I was the only tutor. I love this situation because it means I have a captive audience for a good 2 and half hours at least and I can discuss the relevant topics and get discussion going.

Yes! I'm a nerd! We've established that. But I love helping students learn and achieve their goals.

So anyway, during a particularly interesting topic - one of the costing methodologies (we accountants find it interesting) I decided to close my notes folder.
I placed my pen in between the pages so as not to lose my spot whilst passionately discussing costing.

I was being quite animated in my explanations and making large gesticulations with my hands. At a high point in the discussion, I leaned forward and that's when it happened.....

Before I could stop myself I had managed to draw a dirty great black line straight up my left breast.

Here's how it happened?

When I put my pen in the folder to keep my place in my notes, I didn't realise I left the ballpoint end poking out of the folder towards me. Therefore when I leaned forward, it was able to draw right up my chest.

What a night to be wearing a plain white blouse?

Well, needless to say the entire class noticed that I had drawn on myself and the juvenile giggles commenced. I couldn't help it, I was giggling myself. That was the end of the serious discussion for a while.

How many of you are able to draw on yourselves with no hands? It's a real talent!

I called my mum and told her - somehow she was not as proud of me as I would have envisaged she'd be.

But either way, I think it was hilarious!

Love Verity

Leave Us Kids Alone!

2011-03-16T03:45:00.000-07:00

Hi all

It seems like I am on roll with gripes at the moment, but I recently had an encounter that made my blood boil.

I had a discussion with a mortgage broker. He's an older man - sort of old enough to be my dad - which is by no means old, but older than me!

He asked me the oddest question. And as always, when asked odd questions, I felt compelled to tell the complete and utter truth.

The question was "Do you like being an accountant?"

At first I was puzzled because it seems to imply an answer that perhaps there ARE people alive who LIKE being accountants. As opposed to the rest of us who sort of just wound up in the job and it's alright but we dream of other things.

I smiled to myself and thought "You poor blighter, you've got no idea about the can of worms you're about to open" and politely replied "Why do you ask?"

The gentleman stated that he has a daughter not much younger than me who has "a real aptitude for numbers" and he wants to encourage her into a career in accounting.

Next I asked a somewhat obvious question - "Does she like accounting?". He looked shocked, it was if he'd never stopped to think about this before. I sat quietly and let the little wheels turn in his head for a bit.

I then commenced my "Soap Box Speech" that went a little something like this:
"Have you ever considered that pushing your daughter into a career she's not interested in might cause her to be unhappy. Hence whilst she may become financially secure, she might never feel happiness and hence never enjoy the feeling of being successful."

I went on to explain a little more about myself and my career in accounting that has spanned more than a decade which stemmed from a teenage wish to make my parents happy. My mother and father once passed the comment "You should try and be more like Mary (Mary is not her real name)". Now I'm a dedicated kid, or at least I was back then, and I took this as a challenge. Since that day I took the same subjects for the remainder of high school as Mary did, I pursued a career in accounting like Mary did, I became a Chartered Accountant (Mary became a CPA, therefore I feel I surpassed her efforts) and I became a Justice of the Peace.

None of those things actually interested me in high school, I was a little too preoccupied with sport, dancing and writing witty limericks (it's still one of my favourite pass times). But seeing that my parents wanted me to do this and assuming it would make them happy I did it.

It was only 2 years ago, in the office of a psychologist that I realised what had happened. After being diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and clinical depression, I finally figured out why I was unhappy.

Now I am pursuing my dreams fervently and treating each day as an opportunity to learn about what I want to do and who I really want to be.

I explained this all to man sitting across from me whilst he sat agog and somewhat entranced.

Finally I asked him "Do you know what your daughter is interested in doing?"

He replied "She likes nursing" and I stated "Then wouldn't you be better supporting her in her choice to study nursing? It's a noble profession that would no doubt be very challenging and rewarding. A simple smile from a patient that she helped could make her feel happy and successful".

So here's a thought mums and dads of the world.... money isn't everything! And it sure can't buy you happiness.
Just because you've spent the last 10 years struggling with a mortgage and wishing you were a millionaire does not mean you need to enforce those views on your kids. Think back to the time when you had dreams and goals you wanted to pursue and consider telling your kids to chase their dreams.

The biggest achievements in history have happened when people have followed their dreams despite all odds and being told by everyone that they'd never make it.

Just imagine what we could achieve if, rather than putting each other down and saying "It can't be done", we supported one another and believed in the power of the human mind and spirit!

Love Verity

Aesthetic Anxieties

2011-03-11T14:26:00.000-08:00

Hi all

I've got a real bee in my bonnet about society and the way we focus on appearances and things that are aesthetically pleasing.

Working for a company that has both a Prestige Beauty Team and a Mass Beauty Team has given me an insight into just how focused on appearances we are becoming.

And my frustration culminated on Monday when one of my best girlfriends came in to see me and announced she had been to see an optometrist because she intended to have laser surgery on her eyes.

When I enquired about what had sparked this recent decision, she looked at me with sad eyes and explained what had happened when she went out on the previous Friday night after work.

Apparently she was at a bar after work and there were lots of people around after work, lots of girls and lots of guys. And some of these guys were actually approaching girls and talking to them - also known as "hitting on" them.

Now what concerned my friend was that none of the guys were hitting on her. Hence, in a typically female fashion, she went into over analysis mode and started considering what factors these other women had that she might not have.

And what she noticed was that the other women were not wearing glasses! So she's come to the conclusion that she needs Laser Eye Surgery for crying out loud.

I tried reasoning with my friend and explaining that perhaps it was the fact that she was out with a group of guys and very few men are brave enough to approach a girl when she's surrounded by a group of rowdy guys. But my reasoning fell on deaf ears.

This friend of mine is a very beautiful girl and she's one of the most lovely souls I know. So it distresses me when she thinks she needs to change things about herself to make herself more attractive to the opposite sex.

I blame the fashion industry and the media for what is happening to society. I also think that making people feel bad about the way they look is a ploy by cosmetic companies and cosmetic surgeons to ensure they are constantly in business.

People seem to forget that the concept of beauty is relative and hence all people are beautiful to someone in the world. And what makes a person beautiful is the way their personality shines through their eyes not whether or not they have spectacles on!

I just wonder where it will all end as people have more and more surgery as they get old to remain looking young. So soon we will have 100 year olds who look 20 dying and people will be upset because they think they died young.

It's completely delusional and shallow.

If as a race, we humans spent half as much effort trying to understand one another and learn to get along, as we do making ourselves look "acceptable" to one another then there would be a lot less wrong with the world. No wonder we don't trust each other, who would trust a person who wants to lie about their identifying features and appearance?

How about we start realising how beautiful and perfect we are the way we are born? And spend more time making our insides beautiful by being kind to one another and more accepting. We could also focus on making our planet more beautiful.

But I guess that's just my opinion.

Love Verity

Red Frog Rumble

2011-03-09T02:53:00.000-08:00

Hi all

Most of my close friends and previous bosses know that I'm a food motivated individual. I've even offered to work over-time in exchange for being fed dinner.

I've slowly realised that while working for food is a brilliant idea, especially since I don't enjoy cooking, but it doesn't pay the bills too well. Hence I currently work for money.

But I still consider food a brilliant motivator and when you work a stressful job like I do - there are days when an M&M will be the difference between an utterly disastrous day and a bad day. Therefore the finance team at my work have not one but two lolly jars - for when we are really stressed - ie. most days!

Being good little finance workers we have established a system for use of the lolly jar. Basically it's like a bank, you can withdraw from the "Bank of Lolly" if you deposit in the Bank of Lolly. So far we have the majority of the office trained and we get regular lolly deposits. Some of our better customers are even polite enough to ask what sort of lollies they need to buy. Of course that's based on recent lolly consumption trends.

So recently we've had some renovations happen in our offices and there have been some rather "dishy" tradesmen in our office. One in particular is really fetching. Absolutely every girl in the office thinks he's wonderful and he's realised that. Some days he comes in wearing his sunglasses or some days he'll wear a singlet and show off his arms (he's got the arms of an AFL player).

Me being the hospitable sort that I am, got in the habit of sharing some of the lollies from our jar with the good looking tradesmen. And "good looking bloke" or GLB as we can call him has become accustomed to sharing our lollies. He even wanders into my office and looks at me with expectant eyes.

Now normally I don't have an issue sharing, but last Monday was a particularly stressful day and I was having a shocker. Hence, lolly consumption was at a high rate. But that wasn't a problem because I had a good stash of red frogs in the jar - they are brilliant because they not only have sugar but red food colouring in them! It's a double hit of energy.

So you can imagine my surprise when I came back from a break and felt my sugar levels getting low, but upon looking in the lolly jar, found that there were no red frogs left. I was furious, who'd eaten MY red frogs (of course I wasn't the one who bought them - but don't expect me to think rationally with low sugar levels). I quizzed my colleague who sits next to me and she mentioned that the last 2 went to GLB.

I saw red! I waited till GLB walked past my desk and I caught his eye and motioned with my finger for him to come over. Now some women would have considered this gesture flirtatious. And GLB seemed to think he was going to get another lolly or have myself or my colleague pay him a compliment (he's a bit "confident").

So you can imagine his surprise when I let rip at him for eating my last 2 red frogs. His cheeky smile turned to a look of shock as I made him aware of the crisis he had caused. I explained to him that he would be required to replace the 2 frogs he'd eaten with a full bag.

And with that, I sent him packing.

The look of shock on my colleague's face said it all. She explained that a man as good looking as him should be able to help himself to any lollies he wants. I know I often joke that Matt Damon could have free range of the lolly jar. But in all honesty, I don't think I'd even let Matt have my last 2 red frogs.

And I guess that's why I am single.

No one comes between me and my food!

Love Verity

The Hazards of Height... or Lack Thereof!

2011-03-04T17:33:00.000-08:00

Hi all

Whilst I wouldn't be described as petite, I'm not tall. I'm a good 5ft3.5 (the all important .5!) and very proud of my height.

Throughout my life to date my height as aided me in many situations, I never have be to cautious of ducking through doorways, even ones into cubby houses. I'm able to sleep comfortably on a single bed - although choose to sleep horizontally across a Queen size bed. Why? Because I can! I've also always been able to touch my toes, they are not that far away. I don't get overly hurt when I fall over because I am not that far from the ground.

All of the things mentioned above work into my life brilliantly as I am clumsy and fall over often, I dance so touching my toes is important and I am never watching where I am walking so not having to duck is brilliant.

But there are some occasions where my height is a small disadvantage.

Once such occasion was last week at the grocery store. I was merrily making my way through the aisles and checking things off my shopping list. (Yes, I have to go through each aisle as my local store constantly moves products around and I never know exactly where the soy sauce may live this week. I don't have that problem with chocolate though - I'm always able to locate the confectionery aisle.)

I was looking for my favourite soda water. I found the spot where all the other brands of soda water where but I couldn't locate the one I wanted. I walked back and forth in front of all the brands and bottle sizes. They had my favourite brand in the 2 litre bottle but funnily enough it's often cheaper to buy two 1.25litre bottles than the 2 litre. Who woulda thunk it eh? But it's true - I did the math!

I became quite confused as to where my soda water was. I looked up and down the shelves and then noticed a gap on the top shelf. Hmmm, it looked like maybe they had sold out of my soda water. I stepped backwards so my back was against the other side of the aisle to see if I could see to the back of the top shelf.

And there they were!

3 bottles of my favourite soda water at the very back of the top shelf. I looked up and down the aisle and checked no one was watching before I walked forward and stretched as tall as I could to see if I could reach a bottle. The whole time I was thinking "Go go gadget arms".

Alas, no luck. I couldn't reach them.

I seriously considered climbing the shelves, before realising I was in a suit with a rather tight short skirt and it would not be appropriate. I'm an accomplished shelf climber! It's how I navigate my kitchen. I learnt it at a young age because my mum is very tall and she would always hide the bickies and chocolate on top of shelves hoping I would not reach them. You can imagine her surprise on a weekly basis when she's go looking for her bickies and the bickie jar was empty - she never caught me in the act, but boy did my dad get in some trouble for eating bickies! Hehehehe.
And for anyone who is having trouble imagining my graceful shelf climbing - just think of the seen in Kung Fu Panda when he goes after the bickie jar on the top shelf. I have many things in common with the Kung Fu Panda!

So anyway, my judgment got the better of me and I decided not to climb the shelves. So I looked up and down the aisle hoping to see an employee who might be able to help me. There were none in sight - darn downsizing! I considered walking into another aisle to find an employee to help me out. But the risk of leaving my precious soda water was too great. There were only 3 bottles, what if some "tall person" took them while I was off looking for assistance.

I was at the point of getting quite distressed and considered the benefits of chucking a tantrum in the shopping centre. A great big "tanty" involving fist pumping and foot stomping and screaming. I remember these being quite effective in my youth when in the grocery store with my mum. They would usually result in my getting the thing that I wanted. It seemed like a good idea..... but then I realised the one flaw in my plan, my mother was not with me! I was not about to waste the effort of a tanty when there was no chance of getting a result.

What to do? What to do?

But just then my answer came to me in the form of a girl who was about 6ft tall. She looked like a female basketballer or netballer. She was walking towards me and I realised I had to seize my opportunity. I looked her dead in the eye and said "Ummm, hi, I'm wondering if you could help me out". She looked at me quizzically, she perhaps thought I might ask her for the time or directions to the cold foods aisle. But as she followed the direction of my eyes upwards to the shelf a big smile spread across her face. "Sure" she said and reached up, and with the grace of a giraffe, grabbed me a bottle of my soda water. I only wanted the one bottle.

I carried my prized soda water to the checkout and left with a smile on my face!

I am still proud to be my height, because "tall people" take pity on us shorties and help us out!

Love Verity

The 25th Wheel - Singles or Semi-trailers

2011-02-25T03:05:00.000-08:00

Hi all

I'm sure at some time or another you've heard the expression "the third wheel". It's used to describe the awkward single person who is out with a couple. This doesn't mean that all single people who go out with their couple friends are third wheels - it's the awkward part that makes them a third wheel.

I have some couple friends who I regularly hang out with and all 3 of us get on perfectly, there is no awkward feeling, just mutual friendship. I love these friends, and one day when I am in a couple hopefully we can all hang out together - that could make 4 wheels so we can make a car. Hehehehe.

But there are some situations where being the single person in a group really feels awkward. I'll list the ones that particularly affect me:-

Situation 1 - The Highschool Reunion - it was bad enough being single at my 10 year reunion when all my friends were in couples, the majority were married couples and about 50% had kids. Now I am looking at my 15 year reunion (who has a 15 year reunion by the way? It's bad enough to know it was over 10 years since I left school - let alone put a number on it - 15. Eeeeek). I am dreading attending this event, but secretly I'm relieved as I am well aware that I won't be the only single one there now - oh no, some of my previously married friends are now divorced! Hehehe.

Situation 2 - The work BBQ at the bosses house. I love BBQs, and I actually enjoy socialising with the people I work with. But the invite was open to spouses, families and partners. There are 25 of us going, that is, 12 couples and me. The 25th wheel. I'm the spare tyre on the semi trailer!
At my age and at my career level there is a certain expectation that I ought be married and on my way to a family if I haven't already started one. However, I actually don't care about what society expects of me, I take every effort to prove I am young and vivacious and full of life and energy. I love being single at the moment and I am glad I don't have a family to look after, for one thing, it gives me the time to write this.

and

Situation 3 - Dinner with friends - not many restaurants have round tables (God bless the Chinese - they appear to cater for single people with their round tables) and hence it is often the single person seated at the head of the table. Normally this spot would feel quite regal or powerful - like you could speak and command the attention of the whole table. But in the case of the single person, you don't even have to speak, the whole table is aware you are there and you are on the end because you are single and no girl wants you sitting next to her husband/boyfriend as you may try something with them.

Why must these situations feel awkward? And why should it matter if people are single or in couples? Why should it affect the way I am perceived at work if I am unmarried? Am I less intelligent or less committed because I am unmarried? Am I less able to calculate the net profit of our company because I can't change a nappy?
I really don't think this should be the case. If anything I am more intelligent because I've avoided an unhappy marriage - something not many people do successfully. I'm one of the few who believes that each person has a soul mate out there waiting to come into their lives and when they do.... that's the one you should marry.

But until then, I ask society to stop with the pressure ok! Single people are not lepers. We're just enjoying our time on our own. Being selfish with our money and enjoying life with no ties, no expectations and no pressure.

So to all the singles out there - don't worry if you are the 25th wheel on the semi trailer. Cos one day there will be a blow out and you'll get a go on the road!

Love Verity

Sweet Sweat

2011-02-22T03:08:00.000-08:00

Hi all

I was a little unsure of what to write about in this blog and then a perfect post fell into my lap (metaphorically speaking), it actually got slammed into my armpit!

Ever since I was young I've sweated heavily during exercise, more than any other girl I know. I figure it's genetic cos my dad sweats a lot - but he's a boy - so I can't be sure if it's genetic. Because all men sweat more than women in general.

Anyway, last night was a particularly warm humid night - a storm had just come and there was more moisture in the clouds - there was no breeze to be felt. I went to dancing and the minute I started to move I started to sweat.

I was drenched after the warm up. Anyone who sweats will understand the thought process "Oh why, oh why did I wear light trousers?" "I wonder if I have sweat stain on my bum?"

So after the class, I'd sweated a considerable amount more. I was feeling hot, tired and satisfied from a night of exercise. As I was walking out of class, B's boyfriend came in to meet us. Now B's boyfriend is quite cheeky and thinks he's clever and witty.

He started making comments about how gross and sweaty I was. I was aware I was gross and sweaty and I am the first to admit it... but for someone else to point it out and make a joke.... well that was just wrong!

I thought to myself "I could react in one of two ways, I could use my sharp wit and cut him down with a clever remark.... or.... I could ......" and no sooner had the thought popped into my head, when I lept into action.

I grabbed "boyfriend" in a perfect Muay Thai grapple hold pulled his head onto my shoulder and forced his face into my sweaty armpit! Poor chap was so startled he had his mouth open and copped a full taste of salty Verity sweat. Hehehehe. I released the now struggling and screaming male and he proceeded to run to the bathroom and wash his mouth out.

The best part was, B cheered me on! And now I think boyfriend knows not to mess with Sweaty Verity!

And the moral from today's story boys and girls is.... Cutting wit is brilliant but nothing beats a surprise move of gross immaturity!

Love Verity

Men Today - They're Not Men

2011-02-16T02:59:00.000-08:00

Hi all

Now for those of you who don't know me, you will no doubt think I am a man-hating cow after reading this. In fact, I am quite the contrary. I love men! I just haven't met a man my age in a long time. And when I think about my friendship group - not many of my female friends have met men either.

A friend of mine met a male a while ago, they went on a couple of dates, he was attentive, communicated regularly and showed all the signs of being a man. He actually commented to her that he was not interested in a one nighter and wanted a relationship. So my friend, who previously was not "hung up" on this guy, became hung up on him at the possibility of meeting a "man". She allowed herself to start thinking about this guy as a potential partner.
So she was shocked when, after their first night sleeping together, he never called the next day as he promised he would. And even though they had made plans to meet up the next weekend he didn't contact her all week.
My friend was completely perplexed by this behaviour - the so called man had quickly shown his true colours. Now had he stated at the beginning that he only wanted a casual fling for regular booty, she would have considered this option and made her choice and not started to consider him as a man suitable for a relationship.

I have other friends that are in long term relationships with creatures that they believe are men. They live with these creatures and give the guys all the benefits of married life - wonderful female companionship, cleaning, cooking, sex - and yet the male has not proposed actual marriage. Is it the woman's fault? Has she given him all the benefits of married life and hence he has no reason to commit? Or are these girls simply demonstrating to the males their proficient abilities at "wifeing" in order to convince the male that they are up to the task of being a wife. These males are simply sponging off the kindness of these women so they don't have to face the world alone. And sadly it seems they will never marry those poor girls

And then you have the ones that are in their 30s and still live at home with their mothers - any male who has his lunches made and his washing done for him by the person that breastfed him is not a man.

And then there's my issue. Men show interest and pursue me. When I feel safe enough to start opening up to them they lose interest in trying to capture the elusive Verity and stop calling. With promises of "I'll call you tomorrow" or "Let's meet for a drink soon" or "Let's do this again". Now I can only imagine that when a guy says "Let's meet for a drink" and then doesn't call - that he doesn't have the need to drink 2 litres of water a day as I do. So a couple of weeks without drinking for these guys must be torture - obviously torture is preferable to meeting me for a drink.

My main concern is - what is causing this lack of manhood? Are women to blame for making life too easy for them? They only have to refrain from burping and farting in public for us to consider them dateable?
Do we just need another world war to make them all grow up and realise there is more to life than being over sized babies who have gone from sucking on their mother's tits to their live in girlfriend's tits.

I seem to have a delusional idea of what a real man is. I believe he is someone who:
- has a career he is happy with or is working towards one
- has a good place to live that he either enjoys owning or renting
- he can care for himself but appreciates it when a woman chooses to take care of him
- he can provide for his family and takes pride in that fact
- he loves and respects the woman in his life and realises many women want to be married and respects this fact
- is brave enough to realise that people are never "ready" to get married or start a family - it takes a leap of faith to believe that together he and his woman can make a life.

From what I observe the occurrence of real men in their 30s is rare. I have only met a handful and I don't believe there is anything special about them. I think all men have the potential to be real men but they don't have to. Society accepts men who are wussy, girls accept men who want to live with them but not marry them, families accept sons who choose not to leave home and make it in the world alone. Instead, women are encouraged to do these things. Women leave home earlier than men, women can take care of themselves and do their own cooking and cleaning and ironing, women are told to have successful careers and be able to protect and provide for families, women are told to buy their own houses because a man may never marry them and provide for them.

What came first? Are the women causing the de-masculinisation of men by being too self sufficient? Or do women have to be like men and provide for themselves because men have stopped being men?

These are all very interesting questions and I have no idea about the answers.

I'm still hoping for a "real man" to come into my life!

Love Verity

V-Day: It Rhymes with D-Day!

2011-02-13T03:17:00.000-08:00

Hi all

I know it's a cliche and all single women write about Valentine's Day but I can't help it. I'm surrounded by it and hence I need to voice my thoughts on it.

I was talking to a male friend of mine last week about Valentine's Day, he was trying to plan a nice dinner for him and his wife and he was trying to understand how women think. Poor guy, I wanted to tell him that he hadn't a chance because not even women understand how we think.

Basically this guy is a good husband and regularly takes his wife out for dinner to fairly nice restaurants, so he was stumped that on Valentine's Day his wife would want to go somewhere better. He felt perhaps he had spoiled her and now he would be forever trying to find a better restaurant or he'd have to stop going to nice places regularly so she lowered her standards. Hehehe. Poor guy, I can sympathise with his frustration.

At the moment I am single and hence I can whole-heartedly say I don't like Valentine's Day, however I reserve the right to change my mind the minute I am in a relationship.

But stick with me here - my current view of Valentine's Day is that it closely resembles WWI D-Day, for the following reasons:

1. It was planned by someone other than the participants! That is to say, the people on the beach in Gallipoli were not the same people who had planned out D-Day. Oh no, those people were safely at home in offices and feeling quite ok about the whole process. It's quite the same for Valentine's Day. These days it's planned by Card Companies, Florists, Chocolatiers and Restauranteurs. These are not the people who have to go through the general awkwardness of a day that makes people feel guilty. You feel guilty if you are single because you are forced to wonder why you are single. You feel guilty if you are in a couple but you don't like being told by society when you should and shouldn't display affection or send flowers. And you feel guilty if you have planned something for your special someone because you wonder if you've inadvertently put pressure or strain on the relationship by making the other person feel bad if they have not gotten you something.

2. Timing and place are not always accurate! As we now know, the Aussie troops dropped at Gallipoli were accidentally dropped off at the wrong location and at a time when they were visible to the enemy so they were easy targets. Timing and location is everything in a battle and it's the same with romance! You can't force "a moment", however it seems that on February 14th every year couples are supposed to have romantic moments and if they don't, something is obviously wrong.

3. Poor execution! The plans for the landing at Gallipoli were poorly executed - this is primarily due to points 1 and 2 above, but also external factors on the day. It's the same with romance. So much pressure is put on couple that the best laid plans rarely go the way they are supposed to. Conversation is often difficult or forced, there's tension in the air in restaurants because they are filled with many couples all feeling the awkwardness. The food is never as nice as your want it to be, or the wine as cold as it should be and so on and so forth.

4. The result of the 3 points above is that many hearts are lost! There were massive casualties from the D-Day bungle and whilst in the end, due to bravery and courage of brilliant men, the battle was a success, many were sacrificed for the cause. This is also the case with V-Day! Lots of relationships either do not get off the ground or cannot survive the pressure of the battle that is Valentine's Day. The pressure, the false expectations and the tension all make for a rather awkward and unpleasant day.

And for those reasons, I think Valentine's Day should be aborted as a mission!

However, in time to come when I have a man in my life, I will want all the fake romance and special times created by Valentine's Day. I guess it's been drummed into me since I was a small girl and hence I'm institutionalised. Hehehe. That's my excuse and I am sticking to it.

Love Verity

We are too young for Cougars! We are Snow Leopards

2011-02-09T04:39:00.000-08:00

Hi all

I feel I can now comment on this topic as I am a woman in her early 30s who has managed to stay single despite numerous suitors lining up at her door.

Oh who am I kidding? I haven't been beating them off with a stick. And for years I thought that meant something was wrong with me. But now I am grateful because I get to experience the time where I have the greatest confidence and ability and I am single so I can be selfish!

Right, so here it comes... the reason why it is totally awesome to be a single woman in her early thirties and why we are not cougars!

Single women in their early 30s are more like Snow Leopards! And here's why:

1. Snow leopards are camouflaged for their environment! Single women in their early 30s still look like women in their mid 20s and hence don't stand out too much in night clubs - unlike your average Cougar.
2. Snow leopards have adapted to their circumstances! Single women in their early 30s have also adapted to their circumstances, they keep fit and healthy to compete in an environment of younger women, they have their own properties so as to not waste money on rent and be more financially secure, they have jobs in management positions because they have not had to leave the workforce for childbearing and hence can compete with men in a work environment and they know how to do handy-man work around the home, change the tyres on their cars and mow their lawns so they don't have to rely on a man.
3. Snow leopards cannot roar! Single women in their early 30s have no need to roar, they've passed that stage in their mid-20s when there was a need to say "I am woman, hear me roar". Instead, true confidence has set in and with is has come the knowledge of "I am woman and I don't need to roar because I can make my point clearly and concisely while speaking sweetly, wearing a low cut top and dazzling you with my femininity".

So as a young "Snow Leopard" I am loving my life at the moment because in my 20s I would have never had the self confidence to do some of the things I have done recently.

Whilst Cougars content themselves with trying to pick up men. We snow leopards know that we don't need them.

Exhibit A: The cutie. The one you see in clubs trying to look like a grown up man. This young lad is still a little unsure of himself and is actually a sweet guy. All the more fun. When I give him a big hug and tell him how much I love him he really doesn't know how to react. If I was still in my 20s I would not have had the confidence to touch a co-worker. But since I am a Snow Leopard I have gained that confidence in the knowledge that I don't want a relationship with this man-child, I don't even want a cheap thrill with him. No! What gives the best satisfaction is knowing that I can say these things and not be taken seriously because I am older and wiser than him and I know far more about understanding women than he does.

Exhibit B: The married man. The one you can tell would quite easily go for a fling. He's in his mid to late 30s, he's got one or two young children and a wife who is so worn out from looking after the kids and working full time that he's not been satisfied in a while. Being a Snow Leopard gives a girl the sense to not even consider advances made by this type. We're too good for these ones. We've got the money, the job, the freedom! He gave that away for his family. He ticked that box and he can stick with it! These are the ones you can look at with pity because you see the jealousy in their eyes. They long to prowl free like Lions instead most are cooped up like roosters - they still crow, but the chickens don't really take them seriously!

Exhibit C: The cocky jock. The one who is fit, looks good and knows it. The one who thinks all women are graced to be in his presence. In our 20s we all swoon and try to be with a guy like this. One who we can show off to our friends and who looks good standing beside us in pictures. But Snow Leopards know better. Snow Leopards know that chasing these type of guys is pointless - Shane Warne, Tiger Woods.... need I say more. Their game is up because too many of them have gotten caught being the players they are. Once their looks and cocky attitudes have left them they are completely tiresome for an intelligent Snow Leopard.

So there you have it girls. As a single woman in her early 30s (and frankly, I'll be claiming I am in my early 30s for the next decade) I am proud to roam free like a Snow Leopard. Self sufficient, strong, confident, camouflaged and proud. That is... of course until I meet a male Snow Leopard who sweeps me off my feet, woos me with promises of love and adoration and I turn to complete and utter jelly. Hehehe. (Hey, I'm human!)

So if you are in your 30s and single. Don't whine, don't mope! Be proud and enjoy this wonderful time of confidence and freedom!

Love Verity

I dye my hair darker because...

2011-02-06T03:03:00.000-08:00

Hi all

Here's a recent one, well the incident was recent but I've been like this for years. Hehehe.

I started dyeing my hair when I was about 10 years old. Don't get me wrong - I was never one of those kids who dyed their hair neon green or pink or blue. My mum encouraged it and actually helped me. I guess it's part of the brilliance of hair.... it grows back.

Now lots of girls dye or bleach their hair blonde. And they do it for a number of reasons:
1. Blondes have more fun - we have Marilyn Monroe to thank for this one. But I think history proves that blonde hair is not always the "fun time" it appears to be. Take Anna Nicole, Marilyn and the majority of the playmates in the Playboy Mansion. The first 2 came to untimely ends and the remainder have slept with Hugh Hefner...... ewww on both counts!
2. Blondes are noticed more - lots of dancers bleach their hair to get work. Actresses bleach their hair because they think being blonde makes them stand out and appear more interesting. Models bleach their hair because they are told to by stylists.
3. Blonde hair hides grey - now this one is in fact true. Many women go grey gracefully by dyeing their hair blonde first and I think this is acceptable.
4. Blonde is a recessive hair gene and is slowly being bred out and hence people bleach their hair in support of the Nordic heritage. This one has no scientific basis - but I am a fan of conspiracy theory.

I'm not one of those girls. I've been platinum blonde once in my life and is was a MASSIVE accident. It resulted in a week of turning up to work and being asked "Where are the three bears?" by one of my bosses. Despite this happening over 10 years ago it still hurts. After a week of that I got myself to a hairdresser and went back to my usual brown.

What's my natural hair colour? Hmmm not sure. Pre age 10 it was a colour most often described as "mousy brown". A colour I detested. Every time I got a tan my skin would go the same colour as my hair and you could never tell where my forehead ended and my fringe began.

Hair dyeing is a natural part of female experimentation and .... well .... it's just plain fun.

So last week I was in the shops and saw hair dye on sale. I haven't dyed my own hair in years. I normally rely on my wonderful hairdresser - she gets it perfect every time. I've been trying to break free and get myself out of a rut lately and what better way to get back to dyeing my own hair. I selected a colour called "Ice Brown". Am I the only one confused by that description? Ice is clear.... so why not just describe it as brown? What does the word ice add? Does it mean my hair will look glassy and be as hard as ice? Or does it mean my hair will be shiny and wet looking like "melted ice" (aka water).

Either way... I bought it because I'm breaking free of my rut.

I sent an SMS to my good friend T about my purchase. That's what we girls do you know? We celebrate each small decision in life with a lengthy discussion about it with a friend.
To my delight, T wrote back that she had some hair dye at her place too and suggested I come over for a girlie night of food, wine, DVDs and hair dyeing. What better way to spend a Saturday night?

So I grabbed the wine and DVDs and headed off. T cooked us dinner and we got into our girlie night. Looking back there was one ingredient missing from the girlie night - chocolate. But we did well anyway.

We decided to dye our hair in the kitchen - it's where all great hairdressers do their best work. It's also the easiest place to clean if there it massive spillage.

It has been a few years since I've dyed my own hair and I decided that I should perhaps consider reading the instructions - just in case there had been some major changes in the home hair dye technique. I opened the box and pulled out the contents.
- one bottle of colour
- one bottle of the creamy stuff that makes the colour develop
- one sachet of conditioner for after when you rinse the colour out
and
- one little bundle of cheap plastic gloves to wear so the colour doesn't stain your fingers.
No instruction booklet.
I looked everything over again just to double check. I tipped the box upside down to ensure the booklet wasn't inside it.
Nope! There were definitely no instructions. "Perhaps they are now printed on the box" I thought to myself. So I read the outside of the box looking for any sign of directions or time to leave the colour in etc.
Nothing.
Hmmmm - things had changed since I last dyed my hair.

Just as a small interlude - let me explain why I dye my hair darker and not lighter.
I am an accountant - a profession usually associated with sensible, conservative, boring types! Also with intelligence.
How I managed to get this career is often beyond my own comprehension - as I am none of the above. Therefore I have to fake those aspects of my life whilst at my place of employment. I wear Mary Jane shoes to prove I am sensible. I wear french cuff long sleeve shirts to prove I am conservative and just being an accountant lends it self to the assumption of being boring. The intelligence is the hardest part to fake but being a brunette goes a long way. Sadly our society is still one where people judge on appearances and whilst Blondes are considered more fun, Brunettes are considered more intelligent. (Of course I actually don't believe either of these stereotypes. I don't even believe in stereotypes - but I also don't dictate social opinions).
So I dye my hair to appear more intelligent - although sometimes I just have to open my mouth to wreck the illusion of intelligence the brown hair creates. Hehehe

So back to my story of not finding the instructions.

T was watching my puzzled face and asked what the issue was. I explained that I couldn't find the instructions and it had been a while since I had used home hair dye so I wanted to swat up on my knowledge. T promptly took the contents of the box from me, and before I knew it she'd handed me the instructions. Apparently they were in the little package with the gloves.
How should I know to look in there? Surely I'm not the only one this has happened to?

So for the next five minutes I had to endure T laughing at me and making comments like "Aren't you supposed to be the intelligent one?" (Obviously the "Brown Hair Ruse" works).
Once she had calmed down and I had finished explaining to her that I am actually "Blonde from the roots in". We commenced the hair dyeing.

All went to plan and I was so excited to see what my hair looked like when I rinsed out all excess colour.

Well, I now know what Ice Brown means.......

Ice Brown is almost black!!!!!! - with a tinge of purple or "mulberry" if you're a pretentious twat.
So the "Ice" must mean black ice. Hehehee

After recovering from the initial shock, shortly followed by the realisation that I was having lunch with my hairdresser the next day and there was no way she wouldn't notice the change, I came to terms with the colour.

I actually like it. And I may stay Ice Brown for a while. Perhaps people with "almost black" hair are considered even smarter than those with brown hair. And if that is the case I shall be making my Nobel prize application shortly.

Love Verity

Was that my phone?

2011-01-26T04:39:00.000-08:00

This is an oldie but a goodie, a real oldie but it's stuck with me for the past decade or so and hence I think it deserves its day in the sun.

On this particular day I was hanging out with my male best friend from primary school. We kept in touch all through high school and uni and were great friends. On this particular occasion we went to the movies and it was my turn to choose the movie so I chose "You've Got Mail". I always loved choosing girly chick flicks and making him sit through them.

So we were happily seated in the movie and eating our lollies. I was enjoying it and really getting into the story line when the most uncanny thing happened. Meg Ryan's character's phone rang. And what was even more bizarre than that was that it was the same phone ring as mine.

I felt so special. Like maybe I had a really great ring tone or something. I got lost in the moment and completely forgot I was in a cinema. I turned to my friend and said (just a little too loudly) "Hey, she's got the same phone ring as me". He then turned to me and said "That is YOUR phone idiot".

It was in a really quiet part of the movie and I am quite sure that the whole cinema heard and simultaneously erupted in laughter.

I laugh about it every time I think of it.

Love Verity

Hot and Hard

2011-01-25T18:06:00.000-08:00

Hehehe, I knew the title would get you interested. And it's not lying at all, this little story is about something that is both hot and hard!

Bikram Yoga!

The whole thing started when I was chatting to my friend A and we were discussing how we've not exercised in ages and perhaps we need to find something to do. I mentioned that I had been doing yoga at home because I have a mat and a DVD and it's nice to be able to exercise in the privacy and comfort of your own home.

Well that was what sparked the series of events that followed.

So a couple of nights later I was at A's house for dinner and we decided to look at places to do yoga. I was happy to try normal yoga classes. But A was intrigued by Bikram and Hot Yoga (funnily enough I thought they were one and the same..... apparently I was wrong).
So with the help of our friend Google, we found locations and timetables for various yoga classes in our area. The closest and most convenient one was the Bikram Yoga class in our very suburb.
Well, that settled it, A and I made a plan to do our first Bikram Yoga class together. I was a little dubious but I was spurred on by the thought that I'd heard about friends and colleagues of mine doing it and surviving.

Surely it can't be that bad........

In typical Verity style, I was half an hour early to the class. Which was just in time to see the people from the class before exiting the building. I actually wish I hadn't of witnessed this because then I would not be half as scared.
The people leaving the studio looked like they had been swimming, but in yoga clothes. They were entirely covered in water (actually sweat). I looked at these people and the thought occurred, "This will be me in 90 minutes time". Yuk!

A turned up and we entered the studio together. No way was I going in there on my own. Who knew what horrors were contained in there to transform regular looking dry people into drowned rats in the space of 90 minutes.

We signed up for the class and met the instructor. He looked like a regular kind of guy. You know? Dressed in gym gear and fairly fit and healthy looking. He must have sensed the fear from me as I was writing my name down on the sign in form because he said "You look scared". My reply was simply "Oh I am!".

Once we had paid and I had put my things in a locker in the ladies change rooms I suggested to A that we get in there early and acclimatize. This was a hint given to me by a friend who was a previous Bikram devotee, she also gave me the hint of taking a second towel to dry off with after class. What a brilliant friend!

We entered the room and immediately the heat hit me. It must have been about 35 degrees Celsius but it felt like a thousand. I'm a Queenslander and hence used to warm humid weather but this was ridiculous. I looked at A and she was obviously thinking the same thing as me.

We headed to the back of the room and rolled our mats out in the way some of the other girls had done. It was hard to breathe let alone speak.

A looked at me and said "I think we should leave" but I, being the pillar of strength and conviction said "No, let's stay and see how we go, we need to get used to breathing in this heat or we'll never be able to exercise in it". For once I think I was right! I slowly felt I was getting acclimatized to the heat and that everything would be ok.

I was curious to see what type of people do Bikram Yoga so I was watching as people came in and sat down. Contrary to my initial thoughts, Bikram Yoga people were not all perfect Barbie and Ken dolls. Seeing this made me feel a lot better. And also seeing some men join the class peaked my interest. These men appeared to be fairly masculine types as well. Hmmmm, maybe Bikram Yoga is where you go to meet nice guys?

However, just as I was having nice little day dreams about how I would meet my next boyfriend at Bikram and we would happily become "Mr and Mrs Yoga", my thoughts were interrupted.....

The instructor entered the room and immediately I noticed the change. What had happened to the nice friendly chap in gym gear? He'd been replaced by a man wearing what can only be described as "hot pants" and not the cute little gold things that made Kylie Minogue's butt famous, but brown very tight things. And I mean very tight! So tight I could see everything. And nothing else!

Please don't get me wrong, I'm not a pervert in any sense, but I couldn't miss seeing everything. It was like he was displaying his "jewels". He proceeded to "strut" around the class with shoulders back and hips thrust forward - more so than correct posture dictates.

I wasn't sure where to look and hence the next 90 minutes were made more difficult as I tried to learn the yoga poses without looking at the instructor. Thankfully I was at the back and the majority of the people in front of me knew what they were doing.

As the class commenced I realised that it was going to be far more difficult than I had anticipated. I'd found being able to breathe in the constant heat difficult, let alone do poses that require mental concentration and physical exertion.

Trevi

I can't say I was perfect at it. But what I can say is that I lived!

And the worst pain by far is not the muscle pain from the poses, not even the pain of not being able to breathe.... the worst pain is the way your eyes sting when your sweat runs into them and gets under your contacts!

I was so proud when the class was over and we were allowed to leave. A looked surprisingly sprightly and was making declarations of coming back. I was saying the words "I'll come back" to the instructor whilst thinking to myself "You must me joking you evil torture demon - I'm not paying money to sit in the heat and make my eyes hurt with sweat".

Oh, and about that "cleansed" feeling everyone kept telling me I would feel after the class..... I felt nothing! Apart from pride in myself for surviving the torture.

The first thing I did was reward myself for my good work with a Magnum purchased from a service station on the way home. All that hard work negated in one small delicious ice cream!

But I have this to say to all those health-crazed, pain loving, heat-enjoying Bikram Yoga do-ers.... I CAN do Bikram, I just don't want to!

Love Verity

Scents and Sensibility

2011-01-05T04:22:00.000-08:00

Hi all

I'm one of these people who is blessed with a brilliant scent memory. I only have to catch a waft of a familiar smell and I am transported back to the time to the place where I smelt it and a significant event occurred or a significant person was present.

For example, whenever I smell lavender I remember my grandma. She gave me some lavender perfume when I was 10 years old and it was the last gift she ever gave me - she passed away shortly after. When I smell lavender I know her spirit is around me. I also keep lavender pouches in my closet to ward of moths. Not trying to keep nanna in my wardrobe... lavender has a practical purpose too.

Another brilliant scent memory I have is my favourite perfume. I was wearing it when I went to see Romeo and Juliet in the cinemas for the first time (I went back and saw it again 5 times - I have a thing for Shakespeare and Leonardo DiCaprio!). Whenever I wear that perfume I'm 15 again and at the cinemas with my friends dreaming of my Romeo. Hehehe

My favourite smell in the whole world is "Puppy Smell". Anyone who doesn't love dogs will have no concept of this. But sniffing the tummy of a puppy is one of my favourite things. Not sure how the puppies feel about this but they really don't get a say in it. And since most of them make an effort to sniff my butt I figure we're even.
A friend of mine recently had a baby and said to me the best smell in the world is baby smell. It must be a motherly thing, cos I sniffed at her child's head and didn't smell anything special. It didn't smell bad... but I couldn't really smell anything different. I think it might actually be a mother child thing. Babies know their mother's scent really well and it probably works in reverse. Perhaps it's a caveman instinct that we've retained over the years.

What does that say about me eh? I would have been the cave baby that wandered off and was raised by wolves. Just call me Mowgli!

So here is where my scent memory gets weird....

My second favourite smell in the whole world is that of dance studios, specifically places where hip hop and break dance are done. Crazy huh? And to make matters crazier, the smell that I like is the mixture of male sweat and deodorant (usually Lynx). I figured out why the other day. It actually reminds me of high school. It's a really distinct smell among teenage boys and in high school I was surrounded by boys (no I wasn't the school hottie who dated anything that moved... my best friends were boys and hence I was always hanging out with them). Break dancers, no matter what age, seem to have this very same smell.

Which brings me to the following conclusion....

Since break dancers smell like teenage boys no matter what, perhaps they have discovered the fountain of youth. Perhaps breaking is the key to staying young. Their behaviour lends weight to this argument and anyone who has seen the antics they get up to will agree with me on that.

Whoever thought the secret to eternal youth would be to muck around like a kid, push your body to flip around like it's rubber and dance with the greatest amount of passion and pride!

With this in mind.... I'm a BGirl for life baby!

Love Verity

The first day at work gone wrong story‏

2011-01-05T04:02:00.000-08:00

Time for another story. This one may not be as humorous as some of the previous ones but it's certainly something "that could only happen to me".

Thanks to everyone for their supportive messages when I found out I was starting my new job on Monday. I was so excited and ready to get back into the workforce. However, what came after that shocked me to the core:

I new my new employer was entrepreneurial, he'd been up front with that from the beginning. He was into reading the "Rich Dad, Poor Dad" books by Robert Kiyasaki and that's cool. In my opinion Robert has made a lot of money from writing 4 or 5 different books all saying the one thing. So that's clever in my opinion. He could easily become a politician one day - they do a similar thing - say an awful lot while saying nothing of importance.

I popped in the office on last Friday to meet people and get a feel for the place. Alarm bells started to read when the business owner "insisted" that I read a Robert Kiyasaki book - I mean "insisted". So I played along, took the book home, had a quick skim to ensure it was just like the others (it was) and figured I was ready to start the day on Monday. I was also a little shocked that this guy was asking for all his personal mail to be directed to me and expected me to be dealing with his personal AMEX statements etc. What the? But sure, I went along with it.

So on Monday I showed up for work and got into some stuff with the book keeper - she was really lovely and has been with the company for ages so she knew what she was on about.

The business owner picked me up at about 10am because he thought it would be good idea for me to come with him to an appointment with some investigators from the Fair Trade Ombudsman's Office. Apparently 5 ex-employees had lodged complaints against him and his business was under investigation. The owner assured me it was merely a formality and he was in the right and he would be able to argue his case.

What unfolded at the Fair trade office was one of the most shocking things I have been involved with. The business owner quickly showed he was an evasive person. He was uncooperative and refused to answer questions in relation to his business. I could see the frustration on the faces of the investigators when they asked him about his business practices and he responded by answering how MacDonalds operated and then said his business was exactly the same cos he had modelled his business on MacDonalds and Amway. I started hearing Amway a lot which scared me.

The the investigators showed a few of the employment contracts that employees had signed. The business owner claimed he had never seen them and true enough, they were signed by the payroll clerk. WTF??? I have never been in a business where a payroll clerk has that level of authority.
The employment contracts were for below minimum wage. He was contracting adults for $18K per annum and there were clauses in the contracts requiring 70 hours work.
But what was really scary was that there were clauses in the contract requiring the staff to listen to Amway tapes and read Amway books and not watch TV.
And then the investigators showed the induction manual given to new employees which said some ridiculous stuff like employees must be patriotic Australians and love their mums. Seriously deluded stuff.

I was so freaked out after the 4 hour meeting with the Fair Trade Investigators that I was shaking and could barely speak. The car ride back to the office with the business owner was horrific. I didn't know what to say to this chap. Something along the lines of "Well mate, you had it coming and you're gonna go down".

What annoyed me most about the interview with the fair trade investigators was the fact that it's been taped and will be used in the inevitable court case. I was not allowed to speak and had no business being there really. However the business owner referred to me about 4 times for trivial stuff - like how pleased he was that I am doing Tupperware. What the hell has that got to do with his business? If I get hauled into caught to testify on this debacle I will be furious.

So when I got back to the office, I quickly went outside and called the recruitment agent who placed me in the role and told her that by no means was I returning to that job on Tuesday. I was so angry and shocked that I burst into tears on the phone. I'm not normally the sort of person who cries about job issues. I was just in such shock. Why would you subject an employee to that on their first day of work? Well the truth is, I think this guy was hoping that I would deal with the issue for him. And of course if all went wrong, I would be his scape goat. I'm sooooo not up for that.

Luckily for me, I had a message on my phone from another agent asking if I could go for a job interview on Tuesday afternoon - and I said "Well, funnily enough... I can".

So I had that interview yesterday and hopefully I will find a job soon.

Only I could find myself in such a situation. I think someone "up there" is testing me, failed relationship, failed job..... But never fear, I've got a bit more backbone and courage left in me and I shall get there in the end.

Love Verity

Massage Mayhem

2011-01-05T03:06:00.000-08:00

Hi all

The hard work of Christmas day (read lazing around and eating food all day) must have taken its toll on me. I realised I had put my neck out, might have been from sleeping in the "Princess Bed"... it's been a good ten years since I slept in a single bed and now I remember why.

I checked the spot at the base of my neck at the back where I usually get a muscle knot and sure enough it was there. I've gotten muscle knots in the same spot since I was about 15 - coincidentally that was when I first started Muay Thai - perhaps I've copped one too many hits to the head. Sure enough there was a small hard lump the size of a large marble that hurt like nothing on earth when I touched.

Time for a visit to my favourite massage spot.

I'm a huge fan of Chinese Massage (never doing the Thai thing again after last time) and I have a favourite place I go and also a favourite Chinese girl who does my massages. She's got hands as strong as any of the guys and her energy is awesome. When this girl drives her elbow under my shoulder blade it actually feels like a good thing. Hehehe

So I popped into the massage place (massage parlour just sound right to describe the style of massage I get - and it's certainly not a salon or a shop - massage place will have to do for now as a descriptor) and booked in for a 50 minute head, neck, back, shoulders and arm massage. My favourite girl was in so I booked in for an appointment and that sat down to wait. This massage place is brilliant, you only have to wait five to ten minutes. As I waited I pulled out my iPhone and started playing a game (with the sound off.... that way it always looks like I am doing something sophisticated and important like checking my emails or looking at my busy social calendar). However I was soon distracted by the great looking guy that had walked in and sat down beside me.

Wowee, if I wasn't in so much pain I would have suggested to him that we both save some money and go home and give each other a massage. Hehehe.

Sadly, I'm not that cheeky in person, my wit and charming repartee is only really present in my writing. And more importantly I was in agony, how would I know if this guy was any good at massage, I was in need of professional massage help.

As I was sitting and pondering this thought (I tend to get a silly grin on my face when I am pondering) I noticed I was staring at the hot guy. Apparently he'd also noticed I was staring at him and the poor chap eagerly got up and went into his room when summoned by his masseuse.

Note to self: Don't stare and grin at good looking men without first introducing myself. It obviously scares them and as they haven't met me properly they won't realise that I'm not a pervert... just a bit of a nerd who gets caught up in daydreams.

To my delight I saw my favourite massage girl beckoning me to the newly vacant room. Relief from pain was close at hand. As usual she asked if I had any specific areas she needed to work on and for the first time ever I was proud to report that I had. Normally I just respond "No specific areas thanks" because my stress seems to attack my back on an even level and all muscles become tight!
But this time I said to her while pointing to the base of my skull on the back of my neck "It's really sore here!". She came nearer for close inspection of the offending neck area and placed her hand on the exact spot where the knot was. Before I knew what had happened she was pressing on my muscle knot with what felt like all her might and saying "Where? Here?". I think the grimace on my face said it all. I was in so much pain I couldn't even respond. I sort of just flapped my arms and nodded as I felt a small tear well in my eye. Yep that's where it was sore.

Massage girl seemed to get the picture and informed me she would put some ointment on it at the end of the massage which would help stop the muscle from knotting again. With this understood I hopped on to the massage table and lay face down ready for her to start work on my back.

I secretly love massage tables. I love the fact that someone was smart enough to make a little hole for your face to fit in so you can lie face down and not crick your neck. I wonder why no one has ever thought of making beds with little face holes in them for people who like to sleep on their tummy. I'm not a "Tummy Sleeper" Per Se. I'm more of a switch sides sleeper - ie. I sleep on all sides (obviously not all at once) but more like a rotisserie. I'll lay on my left side till that arm goes numb, then on my tummy till my neck starts to crick, then on my right side till that arm goes numb and then on my back until my nose gets blocked and I start to snore. Put this pattern on repeat and throw in occasional arm flapping and kicking and you have my regular sleeping habit. Perhaps I should design a bed for other rotisserie sleepers. With a little hole that opens for your face when you decide to sleep on your tummy. Perhaps it could be activated by pressing one's nose into the bed. Hmmmmm

Back to the story...

So I was lying face down on the wonderful massage bed and massage girl was working on my back and shoulders when......

I got a nose itch! Seriously!

In a split second the following thoughts had crossed my mind.
1. Oh crap, I hope I don't sneeze and blow away the flowers from under the bed (my massage place has small arrangement of fake flowers under the bed for you to look at while face down - guess it's better than lying there and counting the loops in the carpet).
2. Don't move, she's found the perfect spot on my back and I can feel the pain at the base of my skull.
3. I simply must do something because this tickling up my right nostril is unbearable.

I figured that I could sneakily scratch my nose under the bed through the hole in the table that my face was poking through. Brilliant plan, I don't have to interrupt massage girl and I can mitigate the risk of sneezing snot on the flowers.

Well it seemed like a brilliant plan. However.... I am 5ft3 and in very good proportion. Meaning: it's not easy to tell I descended from apes. I swung my right arm under the table attempting to reach my nose and give it a big scratch...... and missed! Didn't even get close. My arms barely reached under the table, let alone to the middle where my face was poking through the hole. Next I tried forcing my face through the hole a bit to get my face closer to my hand. Stupid I know but by now my nose was in full irritation mode and risk of sneezing was high.

I was about to give up and except the fact I was going to sneeze and the flowers would get snotty when the most amazing thing happened. Massage girl drove her elbow deep under my left shoulder blade. The pain was excruciating and I was about to cry when I noticed it. My nose had stopped itching.

So it seems ladies and gents, that the best way to help out a friend when they have an itchy nose is to drive your elbow under their shoulder blade and push with all your might. To date I've not had the opportunity to test this method on any of my friends, but speaking from experience... it worked for me!

Love Verity

Random Freckle Formations

2010-12-29T02:00:00.000-08:00

Hi all

Living in the "Sunshine State" in the country with the highest instance of melanoma in the world, I'm a pretty "sun-safe" girl. And I am always aware of my skin condition and my freckles - or beauty spots as my mother called them. I even get my freckles/moles checked by a professional "freckle checker" (doctor of some sorts that no doubt studied long and hard only to wind up examining freckles).

So lately I have started to notice the appearance of freckles in the oddest of places.

And just to clear up any concern of readers - when I say freckle I mean small mole. Not a cute name your mother developed to stop you from saying butt hole when you were 5 ok. I think some people even refer to their twat as a freckle. For crying out loud people - twat is its technical name! Why develop those cutesy names for bodily parts because you are embarrassed about kids knowing the real names of body parts. Hmmm

So anyway, I've noticed a freckle on the underside of my left thumb. I'm serious and it's been growing. I've considered the possibilities of how it got there and I am out of ideas.

We learnt in school that freckles and moles appear in areas that are exposed to the sun. So somebody please explain to me how I have got freckles in the following places:

1. Underside of my left thumb - the main offender
2. In between my middle finger and ring finger on the right hand
3. Just above my left knee - and I mainly wear knee-length skirts
and this is the weirdest one of all...
4. In the middle of my right palm.

(Hahaha - I can imagine some of you thought that list would have naughty places on it. As if I would tell you all if I found a freckle on my twat! And I haven't, so there!)

None of the places on that list have excessive exposure to sun, I don't put on any special creams etc on those areas and I'm not trying to tan myself one small spot at a time.

The only explanation I can think of is that some greater power than me has decided to turn my into a giant join the dots game. I'll confirm this once the wrinkles and veins start connecting the freckles.

Stay tuned!

Love Verity

Urn: Rhymes With Burn!

2010-12-11T17:53:00.000-08:00

Hi all

I've reached a new height in silly actions and as of last week and hence received the much deserved title of "Dork of the Week".

It happened in a split second and could have been quite disastrous - but since it wasn't - it remains exceptionally funny and hence I'll tell the tale.

So I was having a rather uneventful work day, I'd just passed the 10am "munchie mark" and in an attempt at a healthier lifestyle I'd munched an apple (this was to be later negated by munching chocolate at about 3pm). So anyway, this was a lovely juicy apple and hence I had the need to wash my hands.

I went to the kitchen, threw out my apple core and then walked to the sink to wash my hands.
Being a hygienic girl, I put soap on my hands and absent mindedly held out my left hand under the tap and turned on the water.

The problem was.... my hand was not under the tap but under the urn (for all that don't know what an urn is - it's the magic device that constantly produces boiling water for coffee and tea making - replacing a jug).

In a split second I realised my mistake and removed my hand from under the boiling water. I looked at my hand and thought "ouch".

But then I did the strangest thing - I'm a very dedicated employee - I went back to my desk, sat with our accounts payable clerk and authorised the weekly payment run. I told her what had happened and she looked at me with surprise. She suggested that once we were done I should perhaps talk to our on site pharmacist (the benefit of working in the industry).

So I trotted over to the desk of our pharmacist and announced "I've been a bit silly. I've washed my hand under the urn".

It was her swift reactions and the reaction of the manager of our health category that saved my hand.

"Get it under running water, NOW!" said our pharmacist.

So I went to the kitchen and followed orders like a well behaved little accountant. I was starting to sense the throbbing in my hand and figured it was best to do as I was told.

I'm blessed with a very high pain tolerance (it comes in handy when doing Muay Thai) and so the pain was uncomfortable but not unbearable.

In about 30 seconds of my arriving in the kitchen and putting my hand under water, our health category manager had found me and brought with her burns bandages. She wrapped my hand for me and gave me an ice pack to use to "put out the fire" deep within my palm.

The pain of the injury was nothing compared with the pain of the humiliation that awaited me when people started asking what I had done.

Being the type to not take myself too seriously I explained what had happened and then asked if they were worried that the finances of the company were in my hands. Hehehee.

Thanks to a good bandage and ice packs all day to keep my palm cold, I've got no blistering and full use of my left hand.

So the moral of the story is twofold:

1. Don't wash your hand under and urn - urn rhymes with burn for a reason.
2. If you do wash your hand under an urn - see your local Terry White Chemist pronto!

Love Verity

Eau de Loo

2010-12-11T16:50:00.001-08:00

Hi all

This is a short little one, but it gives you an insight into the general frustrations of my days.

The other day I went into our ladies bathroom and it noticed a rather pungent aroma. There are always air fresheners in our bathrooms and so I am left to conclude that adequate training on the use of an air freshener has not been provided to all staff.

I'm not sure it's the responsibility of employers to train staff on the use of such things as air fresheners. My mother taught me when I was a young girl... it was an essential skill to have if you ever plan on entering the bathroom after my father!

Anyway, in an effort to make our bathroom a more pleasant place for myself and the rest of the female staff planning to enter in the next half hour.

I immediately recalled my training on the use of the air freshener spray.

Step one: pick up air freshener can

Step two: give the air freshener can a good shake to ensure the contents are combined for a nice even spray

Step three: push button and release spray.

The problem is, I didn't make it to step 3 because the spray from the can had magically released itself without any press of a button. And unfortunately, instead of spraying into the air and turning the bathroom into a blissfully fragrant room, it leaked all over me.... giving me the rather pungent stench of a bathroom.

I quickly put the can down and backed away. I gave my shirt the cursory sniff and sure enough, I smelt like...."Rose and Gardenia" in a rather concentrated dose. Ewww

I left the bathroom and went back to my desk, praying that I didn't encounter anyone with a good sense of smell before I made it back to the safety of my cubicle.

Luckily for me the path was clear and I managed to get back to my desk and my handbag with my standby perfume mini in it before anyone smelt my latest fragrance "Eau de Loo".

It's the small mishaps like this that remind me I will never run out of writing material!

Love Verity

Australia Post Panic

2010-12-09T13:35:00.000-08:00

Hi all

This one has AWKWARD stamped all over it.

As you are all, no doubt, aware…. I’m single. Have been for over a year now ( I’m not counting the 2 month stint with a non-committal twat a bout 6 months back).

And up until this year, have resisted the temptation of such items henceforth referred to the “rabbits”. Any girl who’s seen Sex and the City will know what I am referring to!

But I’m 30 now …. and single…. and a mature adult (well 65% of the time anyway)…. and so a couple of weeks ago, whilst in a rather low mood, when it seemed that the chances of ever sharing a bed with a member of the opposite sex again were slim to none, I made a mature decision to take the matter into my own hands (so to speak) and invest in a rabbit!

After asking around my close friends, it became apparent that I’m a late bloomer and most already have such a device…. and a husband/boyfriend/significant other – Really Ladies! That’s just plain greedy.

So anyway, I asked one of my friends how she went about obtaining her rabbit and she mentioned she went online. This seemed like a good option to me as I’ve actually never been into the type of stores that merchandise rabbits. Actually to be honest – I’ve only ever seen such products once at “Sexpo” almost 10 years ago when I went with my best friend.

My friend assured me that the site she used was very discreet when they posted out the rabbit and everything arrived in perfect condition and very discreetly packaged.

“This sounds like the site for me” – I thought.

So late one night last week I bit the bullet and logged on to the website. My eyes were opened to some of the things that are available for purchase.

I found the page with “rabbits” and was a little over-whelmed at first. Which one did I want? It’s not like you can try before you buy with such things.

I started reading customer feedback to try and decipher which product was the best. But it’s so hard, everybody seemed to make different comments and what if what I like is different to someone else.

I finally found the product that said “As seen on Sex and the City”. “Phew, that should be the one to get”.

I settled my purchase and entered my credit card and felt altogether proud of myself for being a mature woman. So proud in fact that I sent a text message to my friend to let her know I’d just “joined the club”.

I was delighted when I arrived home last night and found the slip in my letterbox telling me that a parcel was waiting for me to pick up. I raced to the post office this morning before work to collect my “treasure”. I handed my slip to the lady at the parcel pickup and she disappeared….

I could hear rummaging… I waited.

More rummaging… waited some more.

And then I heard the words I’d been dreading …. “What was it you were expecting dear?”

Oh cripes, I wondered should I tell the lady? No! Think logically I told myself.

“Ummm, no, actually wasn’t expecting anything” I replied “Might be in a box though” I added.

I heard more rummaging and then she said “What’s the street address dear?” I told her my address as I had nightmare thoughts flashing through my head “Oh gee, I’m going to be listed as some crazy porn freak”.

I even wondered “Is this woman merely having a good joke at my expense?””Is there a hidden camera?” “Have I been punked?” “Ashton? Are you there?”

But no, after about 10 minutes the lady returned to me and stated that they did not have my parcel there and I would need to ring Australia Post.

And so this is where you no find me, on hold to Australia Post, about to suffer the humiliation of talking to an operator who can see where my parcel was sent from and will no doubt think I am some sort of perv….. or worse, a single 30 year old woman!!!!

Love Verity

Home Doesn't Have to be a Place

2010-11-09T04:58:00.000-08:00

Hi all

I know recently some of my posts have been more mellow, maybe it's a sign that I am finally growing up.

I've been thinking about this concept for a while and I'm sure that I'm not the only one.

Recently in my life I've had trials and challenges (some would say that I've had a run of bad luck - but I'll look at it as challenges and opportunities) and I've been tested.

When all else fails and I am ready to break I come home. Not to a place. I have a place where I live and sleep etc. Actually I pretty much only sleep there because I'm working most of the time.

But that's not coming home for me.

My home, my safe place, my "Tiffany" (the place where nothing could ever go wrong) is dancing.

It's the one thing I've had throughout my life - since I was 5 or so. Maybe before but I can't remember much before I was 5.

I can lose my job, my house, my boyfriend/fiance, my car and a whole range of other things.

But I will never lose my love of dancing and the way I feel when I am dancing. It's the freedom of expression, the interpretation of the music. It's being around other people who "get it" and have the same stupid smile plastered on their faces because they're feeling the same way.

For me, dancing is not something I learned. I only last 6 months at ballet before I was told I looked like a footballer (interestingly enough - I'm pretty good at soccer). Dancing is something in my soul. Something that I do that defines me as an individual. It doesn't matter what I do for work or where I live - I can dance!

And he best thing about realising that dancing is home......

is that it means I can take home with me wherever I go!

Love Verity

Super Tips for Future Stalkers

2010-11-09T04:40:00.000-08:00

Hi all

I had to quickly relay the events of this morning and offer tips and advice.

I received a phone call this morning on my home phone line at 6.45am.
I only answered the phone because I thought it might be my mother. She has a brilliant knack of calling me at odd times. Actually... I think it is a talent many mothers possess.

I mean.... who else calls at that sort of time? Not even telemarketers are up then? Maybe overseas telemarketers - but even they possess the unique technology known as a world clock and can figure out time differences.

So it had to be mum right?

Wrong!

I answered the phone with a slightly frustrated tone "Hello"

The voice on the other end was that of a heavy breathing male. Hmmm. Slightly suspicious.
"I just wanted to tell you Verity that you are very sexy" said the voice.

My first instinct was to reply "Man are you kidding me? I'm in the kitchen making salad and getting ready for work. Sooooo not sexy""

Instead my senses kicked in and I asked "Uh, who is this?"

"We've known each other a long time and I think you are very very sexy" was the response received.

""Click" I hung up. Well not literally. Who actually hangs up a phone these days? But I pushed the little button with the phone and line through it to end the call.

I had no time to talk to deluded time wasters at that hour of the morning.

I swear - obviously this person has not known me for a long time. Or else they would have known the following:

1. I never feel sexy in the mornings when getting ready for work. Stressed and anxious ... yes... NOT SEXY!

2. I'm soooo not the sort of girl to be propositioned any way other than face to face. I find SMS, email and even phone conversations impersonal. Frankly, if you are going to compliment me or ask me out then get the courage and look me in the eye!

and....

3. Next time you call me at that stupid hour in the morning, rather than try to gain my affections by flattering me. Perhaps state that I have won the lottery!

After all, beauty fades, but winning millions and investing cleverly can last a lifetime!

Love Verity

Verity the Victim?

2010-10-25T12:17:00.000-07:00

Hi all

This post comes to you courtesy of a brilliant Murder Mystery party held in the Bronx.

My friend J is truly a brilliant girl and she has a great group of friends in NYC who have terrific parties. In this instance I had the privilege to be invited along to a Murder Mystery Party hosted by one of the girls.

The theme of the party was the Annual Crime Scene Investigator's Conference - so we were all detectives. I happily accepted my role as "Crick Watson" a brilliant and famous detective and lab analyst from Sydney, Australia. How cool - I already have the accent down!

I read up on my character's bio with enthusiasm, I was going to "live this role" and show these Yankees how Australian's roll.

I got into my detective costume - feeling a bit like Sherlock Holmes - and my friend J and I got excited as we headed to the party.

Upon arriving at the party, I was presented with a room of people dressed as cops, detectives and lab analysts. It was like stepping into CSI. I knew this was going to be a brilliant night.

However.....

The minute I received my name tag stating that I was indeed "Crick Watson" I started to be treated differently by all the other party goers. Hmmmm, what's going wrong? I thought to myself. But I played along.

As the party progressed, it came to light that I was not the most popular character. Apparently I'd been involved in falsifying evidence, 2 separate counts of blackmail, heckling a comedian, I owed money to an old room-mate from 13 years ago and in general was disliked.

Oh well, thems the breaks I guess. So I played up to is and basically acted the role out. People looked shocked that I was proud of myself for being disliked and chalked it up to one of the costs of being as famous and brilliant as I was. Hehehe

I was having a ball. I was getting to be obnoxious and no one could do anything about it because I was in character. Hehehe

But a small part of me wondered if I was the murder victim since absolutely every other character had a reason to hate me.

The next thing that happened was that we received an envelope with additional clues in it and things we needed to either act out or say to people.

What was this? I had to act sluggish and sleepy and disoriented! Oh my gosh, I'd been drugged!

I was the murder victim. Nice one Yankees, kill off the Aussie. How un-hospitable!!

So at the next opportunity I made my way to the bathroom as instructed, and located the materials which I would use to transform myself from a brilliant detective to a dead detective. Hehehe.

I had a ball taping a victim sign to my front and a picture of the knife that had stabbed me on my back. Gee, someone must have hated me to drug me and stab me. Hehehe

I wrapped myself in crime scene yellow tape and painted my face white so I resembled a ghost. It was a good effect really. I've never been a ghost before.

I braced myself for the delight of the other guests when I re-appeared to the party as a guest and I was not disappointed. There were cheers and high fives and general raucous laughter.

The downside was that....for the remainder of the party I was unable to talk as I was a ghost! How un-Verity Like. I am used to being able to talk whenever I please so it took a great deal of will power to restrict myself to ghostly moans and groans. Hehehe

The party progressed and it came time for all the participants to work out who my murderer was. I knew straight away, I examined the finger print evidence on my cup (for the prints of the person who had drugged me) and on the knife that stabbed me. I read the DNA analysis of the results from the coroner and pieced together the evidence. Even as a ghost I knew I had to be a brilliant detective.

As the time came for each participant to discuss their involvement I watched my suspect. Sure enough she was the last one to talk and she admitted that she was the murderer. Hehehe. She was one of the characters I had been blackmailing and therefore wanted me dead so I couldn't expose her secrets or cost her any more money.

All in all it was a brilliant night. And once everyone was out of character, people were super friendly to me. Phew, it wasn't my being an Aussie that caused all the other participants to hate me. It was purely them playing their roles in the game.

I recommend a Murder Mystery Party to any group of people looking for a fun reason to get together, dress up and put their brains to work to figure out "Who Dunnit?"

Love Verity

Russian Spa Faux Pas

2010-10-25T11:50:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Here's a funny little story set in the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

I'm currently staying with my friend and his girlfriend on the LES (Lower East Side) and yesterday we all had some time to kill. I was meant to be meeting my friend from high school who lives here but she was working (on a Sunday - somehow Aussies work hard no matter where they are).

My friends were going to the "Russian Spa" and wanted me to join them. I was hesitant to say the least. Firstly, they have been so kind to me and they haven't had a lot of time to spend together since I have been staying in the living room, secondly I did not bring swimming attire with me (who plans to swim in NYC in the fall?) and thirdly, I didn't particularly wish to expose any part of myself in swimming attire at the moment - there's still a bit more dieting to do. Hehehe

But my friends would not take no for an answer and insisted on providing me with swimming gear and assuring me it would be a brilliant time. Apparently the Russian women were so nice and the tea and food was lovely. There were massages and saunas and all sorts of fun stuff. (I couldn't help but wonder if this was true or if my male friend was actually just keen on going to see the pretty Russian girls). I wondered if Russian spas were similar to Japanese and Thai spas. Lots of old men being pampered by young women. Hehehe

The Spa is on a main street in downtown Manhattan so we must have found the most useless taxi driver - he had no idea where we wanted to go. In the end we jumped out on the street corner and decided to walk the remaining 2 blocks to the spa.

However when we got to the spa it was closed. There were signs on the door from a Government authority of sorts giving notice that the Spa had been closed for a period of time due to the following circumstances:
1. Harbouring criminal activity - hmmmm so they Thai's aren't the only ones offering happy endings. Hehehe. I'm only making an assumption - there were no actual details of the nature of the criminal activity.
and
2. Serving alcoholic beverages to persons underage.

Upon seeing this sign I was actually really disappointed about not going to the spa. There was now an air of intrigue surrounding the Russian spa.
What other sort of underhanded dealings were going on there? Was this a special spy station for the Kremlin?

My imagination ran away with me and I thought of war-time stories of spies and underworld happenings.

So the moral of this story - be very careful about places labelled spa. Hehehe

Love Verity

The Fine Line Between Omission and Deception

2010-10-25T10:16:00.001-07:00

Hi all

So this is another atypical Verity story. One about the softer side of me as opposed to the clumsy, silly, debaucherous side.

This story has been a year in the making and shows what happens when a woman allows herself to believe in 'Disney-esque romance' and forgets that the reason we all love Disney is that it's not real.

This story begins in late September 2009 in New York at a Muay Thai class. Not the most romantic of places, I know, but then you can't pick where lightning will strike.

The story is about two people - boy and girl.

Girl first sees boy at the Muay Thai class as he is wrapping her hands for her ready for punching. Girl looks up at boy and feels the most unusual feeling. A feeling she never felt before.
Lightning struck and from that moment, Girl believed she had met her "twin flame" (her soul's twin spirit).

The second time Girl and Boy meet up is that night at a nightclub with friends. Girl and Boy talk most of the time to each other and enjoy each other's company. They realise they have a lot of things in common and talking to one another feels easy and natural.

Girl leaves New York the next day to go home to Australia. She smiles throughout the long plane trip and her spirits lift as she allows herself to believe in fate and the grand plan of life.

For the next year Girl and Boy stay in touch via the modern communication methods. Quick messages here and there to remind one another that they are still thinking of the other one.

Girl seeks advice from her friends. She knows that there is not really a future with someone on the other side of the world but she entertains the thought of moving to be with Boy and building a life with him. His goals and ambitions are similar to hers and she feels she knows what he truly wants from life.

The months of the year pass slowly and Girl and Boy exchange Christmas cards and letters and messages. Girl tries to date men in her home town but cannot rid her thoughts of Boy.

After 9 or so months have passed an opportunity arises for girl. An opportunity to return to New York only 12 months after first visiting.

Since Girl believes in fate and destiny, she sees this as a sign. A sign that she should return to the place where she lost her heart and see if she can either reclaim it or give it to Boy properly.

Girl contacts boy to let him know of her plans to come visit. Boy is excited and offers for girl to come and stay with him ( as a guest). Girl is at first undecided as to what to do. Should she stay with boy? Or get an apartment for herself and rent it but visit Boy.

In the end a mixture of romance and curiosity gets the better of girl and she agrees to stay with Boy. She sends him her arrival information and allows herself to get excited about her upcoming trip. Being a sensible girl, she tries to keep her excitement in check. After all, Boy may not feel the same way as she does and she may have read all his signals wrong.

But in the end that little feeling of hope wins and girl counts down the weeks and days till she returns to the place of the lightning strike to meet Boy.

2 days before Girl is meant to meet Boy she sees her friend, the friend that took her to the original Muay Thai class. Girl and her friend love spending time together and chatter away, both of them excited that girl is here to visit.

Girl lets her friend see her excitement and then comes the twist in the story.

Her friend explains that Boy has a girlfriend and sees the shock on Girl's face. Girl hides her dismay well. She pretends to have suspected such a thing and states that she and Boy are "just friends" and that she is still looking forward to seeing him.

It's not the truth though, it's the biggest lie Girl has ever told. And it's a painful lie because it's a lie to herself. She's heartbroken that Boy has a girlfriend. And even more shattered that Boy never thought to tell her anything about his girlfriend.

Is omitting something like that deception? Why would Boy ask Girl to come and stay with him if he has a girlfriend? Why didn't he tell her?

Girl is so hurt it feels like the floor has fallen out underneath her feet and she's falling down the rabbit hole like Alice. Thoughts pour into her head as she tries to recount conversations and analyse where she could have made her mistake.

Over the next 2 days Girl feels lost and like a total fool. How could she believe that she could have the romance so many others before her have sought and failed to achieve? Why did she hold onto a "small insignificant event" for a year and hope that fate smiled upon her.

And then the day came, when Girl went to meet Boy and stay with him. He had still not mentioned that he had a girlfriend. Girl was not sure about how to act or feel but the determination within her soul drove her on. She may never get another chance to find out the truth so better to act now.

Boy gave girl a hug hello and a kiss on the cheek, she accepted his embrace and for half a second allowed herself to believe it was the embrace of a man who truly cared for her. It was only then that Boy announced "We just got back to the apartment". Girl nodded and showed no emotion upon hearing the words that said she was just about to meet "the girlfriend".

It took every ounce of Girl's strength to follow Boy to the place where she would meet the woman he'd chosen over her. And every inch of her grace to smile at the girlfriend and embrace her with friendly warmth. After all, it's not the girlfriend's fault. She'd been made aware that Girl was coming to stay and had agreed to be hospitable.

Girl felt a strange feeling of numb overtake her. She pushed any feelings for Boy aside and decided to make the most of the situation by being a good friend with Boy and supporting his relationship with his girlfriend. Girl figured that if the roles were reversed she would wish to be treated with respect and as such she decided to respect the girlfriend and remain in a friendly role with Boy.

At age 30, Girl really felt proud of herself for her behaviour. This was one of the toughest challenges she'd faced and she'd handled it with grace and dignity.

At this point, Girl is still visiting with Boy and the girlfriend. She's tried to find an opportunity to tell Boy about her feelings for him and a yet the time has not been right. She does not want to break up Boy and girlfriend. Merely to explain herself. Sometimes you only get one crack at things in life and this may be her only chance.

So the biggest challenge lies ahead, explaining to Boy that she loves him and therefore needs to let him go do what he wants in his life. Send him on his way with her best wishes and support for whatever choices he decides to make.

Then, Girl will be on her way home again. At least having found an answer. Reclaiming her heart to nurse it back to full strength and send it back into the world to search for love.

Love Verity

Wasting time in Times Square

2010-10-19T14:55:00.001-07:00

Hi all

This is the first "Verity Abroad" blog of 2010. This one comes to you from the Big Apple.

For those who are unaware of locations in the USA or have remained under a rock each New Year's Eve. Times Square is a delightful little place on 42st street in New York where all the signs on buildings are required to flash and move. For any Brits reading - it's Picadilly Circus on steroids.

Time Square is in the heart of the theatre district in New York and hence would be the logical place for a booth selling last minute half price tickets to shows.

Last Friday afternoon I decided to try my luck on some cheap theatre tickets. The sales booth opened at 3pm so really I should have been there at 2.30. But I was doing the "Verity Thing" and pitched up at 4.

What a mistake that was - the line was huge and it was moving slowly. I estimated I could spend over an hour in this line. But that's not so bad since the shows weren't starting till 7.30 or 8pm anyway, depending on what show I could get tickets for. So I joined the queue and braced myself for the taunting I would receive from the scalpers. Hehehe

The scalpers try to sell you last minute tickets and call you a fool for standing in the line for so long. But I held my head high. I was going to wait in the line like a good law abiding citizen and get my half price Chicago tickets.

So I waited...... and waited......

To amuse myself I started eavesdropping on everyone else's conversations. I learnt the skill as an auditor - often your client won't tell you everything so you have to hear all the conversations "at the watercooler" to understand the reality of the business.

So I was listening in on other conversations. The ladies in front of me were discussing free things to do (I figured I would remember that information). The people next to me were discussing whether to see La Cage or Memphis. The people behind me were speaking some language that sounded Scandinavian. I have no idea what they were talking about but listening reminded me of the Swedish Chef from the Muppets. Hehe

As the line slowly moved on the end was in sight......

Hang on! All of a sudden a group of men in Police uniforms appeared. My first thought was "Woohoo there's strippers on Broadway". But then I looked closer, these were actual police, not strippers in police uniforms. Trust me, you can tell."

What was going on?

People in our line were all of a sudden being told to move over to the other line.

I thought to myself "I'm staying put, I've earnt my place in this line". However, just as the thought had formed in my head a police officer walked over to me and said "Ma'am, there's a suspected bomb in this area and you need to move away".

Ok, I thought to myself as I moved away from the area. So why did they close one side of the queue for tickets and not the other?

I looked across at the new ticket queue and decided against lining up for what would be another 2 hours. All the good shows appeared to be sold out anyway.

I walked away, half expecting to see a huge mushroom cloud and a loud noise coming from Times Square. If it were a bomb wouldn't they move people from the whole area? So strange.

I gave up on tickets that night after wasting half of the afternoon in the line. I figure next time I see a show I am sticking to the usual way of buying tickets - from the net or the box office.

Love Verity

Dress code: Mocktail

2010-09-08T00:19:00.001-07:00

Hi all

So this one happened a while ago but it took me a while to get time to write it down. Don't worry, it's fresh in my memory as are all my little "Verity Moments"!

In this year of the "30" I've been invited to a number of wonderful parties - there's a couple of good things about turning 30:
1. Good parties, and
2. You're not alone because loads of friends are getting older too!

I got an invite to a party to celebrate my good friend T turning 30. It was a cute little invitation that had a magnet on the back so you could put it on the fridge without yucky blu-tack or sticky tape wrecking the fridge surface.

I RSVP'd almost straight away as every good girl does and then put the invite on my fridge so as not to forget the date and time of the party.

Because we are now in the age of facebook - my friend T had also set up an event about her party. Actually I did the same thing for my party and I think most of my friends did for their parties too. It's a good way to update lots of people at once.

That is...... if the people actually read facebook updates regularly.

And normally I do....

But as I had the hard copy invitation I figured I didn't need to keep that up to date.

So anyway, the day of the party came and I checked my invite for a dress code. My friend B was visiting from Melbourne and so I needed to be super organised so I could drop B at the airport and then go straight to T's party. On top of that - it was pouring rain and really rather miserable in Brissie.

The invite didn't stipulate a dress code. I popped the invite into my handbag (actually it had to be folded 4 times to fit - I was only taking a teeny handbag) and B suggested I check the facebook page to see if anyone was commenting on dress code.

I looked up the event page and read some of the recent posts. Bingo - right at the top people were discussing what to wear. I was in luck! Obviously I wasn't the only one wanting to know what to wear.

So the last two posts read as follows:

"I really don't know what to wear, so many options and choices"
Response from T "Just dress to impress"

Dress to impress eh? Well that's pretty simple for me. I was feeling a tad conceited, so I indulged myself and though "You know what, I'm a pretty impressive girl! Therefore I'll wear a smart pair of jeans and a nice top and jacket. I'll be even more impressive if I'm comfy"

So I got changed. B agreed that I was impressive.

So we headed off and I dropped B at the airport and went straight to the party.

It was pouring rain but I managed to get a park fairly close to the entrance. It was actually quite a tricky park to get into and I nailed it in one go. So as I ran to the front door of the venue I patted myself on the back and told myself what a truly impressive girl I was!

Just before I got to the door I saw a maxi cab pull up and one of my friends get out..... in a suit!
I stood there mouth gaping (cod fish style) as I then proceeded to watch 4 more of my friends get out of the cab. In total there were 3 boys in suits and 2 girls in cocktail frocks.

I waved hello and then in my typical cocky/jovial fashion said - "Gee you guys are a bit over-dressed aren't you" Hehehe. They'd obviously taken "Dress to impress" quite seriously.

One of the girls piped up "But it said cocktail dress on the invite. Where's your dress Verity"

I stood in shock as the thought hit me - "Oh gosh, it's highly possible everyone will be dressed like this". I pulled out my invite and looked at it with my friends - they confirmed that no-where on my invite did it say cocktail dress - apparently it was hand written on their invites.

Who forgot to write on my invite huh? Was this a joke? Pick on Verity day? Surely not.

I considered going home and changing into a frock but that would mean losing my nifty parking spot and driving in the pouring rain (it was raining heavily and visibility was pour) and potentially missing the fun.

Nope! Not I! I figured "I'm Verity Blackwell, I'm just as impressive in jeans as I am in a frock and I'm also now a big girl (I've already turned 30) so I can walk into a cocktail party in jeans without being intimidated".

I laughed a bit with my friends and proceeded to the elevator to get to the rooftop terrace where the party was.

When we got in the lift, who should be there but my friend T whose party is was. She looked lovely in her cocktail dress. She looked stunned when she saw me. I explained the reason for my casual attire and even showed her the invite and she admitted she'd neglected to write cocktail dress on my invite. We both had a good laugh at this and agreed it could only happen to me.

As the lift got to the top floor I braced myself for the impending humiliation. Walking in to a room of nicely dressed people whilst in jeans is hard..... but walking in with the birthday girl is worse because everyone looked!

I flashed my bravest of smiles and made a beeline for the other side of the room and out the doors onto the rooftop terrace. It was too cold out there for most of the girls in their skimpy frocks (ha, there was sense in wearing jeans) so I was able to stay outside with the my friends. The other people on the terrace were predominantly men and they looked at me with a sense of longing - I could tell most of these poor guys didn't want to be wearing suits and would have been far more comfortable in jeans like me. I felt a bit sad for them - but they looked nice. All men look nice in suits.

I was chatting to my friends when I looked towards the door...... there in front of me were 3 guys in jeans. I thought to myself "Ha, they must have thought there were impressive enough too". I was about to go and mingle with "my peoples" when I had a realisation that crushed my elation. These guys were the band!

Hmmmm, I seriously considered introducing myself to people as a member of the band. But since I didn't have an instrument I would have to say I was the singer. This was highly dangerous as I had heard tell of karaoke later that evening and both T and her sister S were incredible singers. People would know I was a fraud.

So I resigned myself to spending the night explaining my casual attire (it was a good ice breaker) and mingling with men who didn't seem worried that I was not wearing uncomfortable shoes or freezing my tits off in a ridiculous frock.

I received many stares from the girls at the party - not even trying to be subtle about it.

But all in all, I was there for my friend T. She was not worried that I wasn't wearing the same clothes as everyone else (sing "one of these things is not like the others" from Sesame Street) and frankly nor was I.

It was a typical Verity Moment and for once I felt rather proud of myself for holding my head high and having a great night.

Love Verity

Girlie Afternoons

2010-08-23T04:58:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Yes I realise it looks like I do no work, but I absolutely busted my guts last week and now I am ahead of schedule.

So I’ve got time to update you all on those regular “Verity moments” that are always occurring but have just not been documented recently.

This one was a short while go.

I finally got to have a version of a housewarming at my little apartment. But instead of a real housewarming, I hosted a girlie afternoon for my friends to come and visit me, see my new place, have good girlie chats and enjoy and Intimo Lingerie Party.

Any of my friends will agree that cooking is not my strong point, it’s not even my mediocre point……. it’s my very weak point. But for my friends, I would overlook this tiny insignificant detail and have a go.

I decided on mini cup cakes, despite previous issues with these – namely leaving the egg out – and yes, I am well aware there is even a picture of an egg on the packet! In order to avoid the “egg issue” I put my eggs out on the bench to remind myself that cup cakes need eggs. My tactic seemed to work as I put the mini cupcakes in the oven and after 20 mins they had risen!

The best way to tell if you leave out the egg from the cup cake mix is that after 20 mins your cup cakes will NOT have risen. Instead they will have exploded leaving you oven coated in a link layer of something resembling toffee snaps (trust me, I’ve tried it!).

So I took the cup cakes out of the oven and remembered what mum told me and put them on the bench to cool down. I then got side tracked and forgot about icing then until right before my friends were about to turn up.

This meant that by the time I started icing the cup cakes D and C had arrived and I now had an audience. The pressure of people watching me try to ice cup cakes was almost too much for me. So I was stoked when K turned up at the same time as A. K is a mum and is far more capable than me. She jumped right in and iced those cakes for me while I pottered about getting other food (lollies and tim tams – the important stuff) ready for the party to start.

The Intimo lady turned up next and I think she was a little bit scared by the warnings my friends started giving her about “Verity Moments”. I promised to behave myself, but gave the compulsory warning that it was highly likely that she would witness a Verity moment – they’re a regular occurrence.

So once the rest of my friends turned up the party got underway. Now for anyone not aware of lingerie parties please remove all thoughts of ladies bouncing around in their underwear and pillow fighting. It’s not that sort of party. An Intimo Lingerie Party is similar to a Tupperware party, but of course the wares being sold are not made of plastic – instead lovely cotton, sateen and lace! No pillow fighting involved. And certainly no jelly wrestling for any men reading this!

After the presentation, the fun starts. It’s when you get to go in to another room and try on lingerie like your life depended on it (one at a time of course – decency please). And then you get to hand over your faithful little piece of plastic and spend all your husband’s/ boyfriend’s/ your own money!

C put her hand up to be the first person to try stuff on. She’s been looking forward to this party for a while. So while C was away I took the opportunity to talk to my friends and guests. There was about 10 of us and it’s lucky there wasn’t more. My little apartment only really fits 10 people and that was tight. So tight in fact that I stood up with my back to the front window in the lounge room. Normally my lounge room blinds remain closed because my lounge room looks into my neighbours’ back yard and the street. But on this glorious day I decided to open the blinds and let the sun in.

Of course I’d made this decision early in the morning and so by afternoon I’d gotten used to the blinds being open and had quite forgotten about any privacy concerns I had.

Yes I know I have a memory like a sieve and that’s why what comes next does not surprise me and no doubt it will not surprise you.

I was chatting to my friends and leaning against the window when the thought struck that I could pretend to moon the neighbours by squashing my bottom against the window (I had jeans on – this is not kinky). So I got all my friends' attention and decided to proceed with bottom squashing. Hehehe.

My comment was “Now wouldn’t that be funny if the neighbours saw that?” Hehehe.

D’s response shocked me a bit “But Verity, there are two men in your neighbour’s back-yard and they are looking. I thought you realised before you did that”.

Oh my gosh, the horror struck me and there is was……. The “Verity Moment”. My friends were in stitches and funnily enough so were the two men looking into my front window. I quickly un-squashed my bottom from the front window, turned around and gave a coy smile at the men in the backyard and turned to my friends and commenced pretending that nothing had happened..

Sadly, the intimo lady didn’t get to witness the “Verity Moment” but she got it recounted to her by 10 hysterical women. Hehehe

Have a great day

Verity

Oh no! Yogo!

2010-08-23T04:54:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Yes it’s time for another of my brilliant “Verity Moment” emails.

This one happened today in the kitchen at work.

Because I’m a helpful little “Bean Counter” I’m always keen to assist our merchandisers by testing new product samples. Normally it means I get a cute little hand cream or some funky flavoured dental floss or something cool like that.

Last week our “Wellness Team” were trialling a new range of products in our Weight Loss shakes – the Euro Crème Range.

Sounds exotic doesn’t it? Yes that’s what I thought too.

Since I am so helpful I decided that I would HELP the team by trying one in each flavour – Wild Strawberry, Chocolate Supreme and Vanilla. I’m not greedy, it’s all in the name of research and product development.

So today I decided was the TRIAL day.

I went to the kitchen with my friend T to have lunch. T was sceptical and viewed my shake sachet with suspicion. She decided she would stick to her stir-fried vegies.

I’m a good little Girl Scout and am always prepared – so I had a drink shaker bottle in my desk drawer for just this very situation.

Armed with my sachet and trusty shaker bottle I headed to the kitchen to experience the wonders of Wild Strawberry Euro Crème!

As I prepared to mix my lunch, T stood by the micro wave and watched her stir-fry heat up. But I knew that secretly she was watching out of the corner of her eye to see what my lunch was like.

I put the powder in my bottle. It was just plain white powder…. But hey presto! Upon adding water it turned a highly unnatural pink colour. Similar to a light pink gerbera. Certainly not the colour of anything I’ve ever eaten. Or had I????

Yes, infact I’d seen that colour pink before (and not on one of my work blouses) that colour brought back memories from my childhood of……. Strawberry Yogo!

I remember I didn’t like yogo very much as a kid, it just didn’t make sense to me as a product. It had a name that hinted that it was yoghurt but that was deceptive because it had a consistency of mousse. Yukky stuff!

As I shook my shaker bottle to mix up this Euro Crème I prayed a little prayer that I was not about to turn my shake into yogo.

I stopped shaking, opened the lid to pour out my lunch and…… nothing.

It was stuck in the bottle and sure enough, it had turned the consistency of mousse. What on earth was in this product? Gelatin I guess.

T was now chuckling to herself and looking on with amusement. I got hold of a spoon and took the first mouthful.

Ewwwww. Just like Yogo. What on earth was this stuff? And what sort of desperate person would be tempted to eat this goop in order to lose weight.

I was determined to make an effort to eat it but after 4 mouthfuls I gave up. T had finished her stir-fry and agreed to walk down the street with me to get something edible.

The last straw was when I tried to tip it down the drain and it was so goopie that it clogged the kitchen drain and I had to poke it with a spoon to get rid of it. YUK.

T and I were discussing what we should do with the other 2 sachets I have of it. We’ve decided to film a movie on our iPhones, which shall be titled “The origins of cellulite” or “The Blob – A documentary on Euro Crème”. Hehehehe

Love Verity

Intuition

2010-07-06T04:02:00.000-07:00

So here’s what happened……

A while ago I went to a women’s event at the Institute of Chartered Accountants. They hold them regularly and they are called “Viva La Diva”.

I decided I would take our payroll lady M because she’s had a rough run lately (friends have passed away etc) and needed a girlie cheer up.

The events are brilliant because you get champagne on arrival and makeup and hair touch ups. All the money raised goes to charity and it’s just a brilliant night.

We got to choose 2 out of 4 seminars and I said M could choose since she was my guest.

Marg picked – “Intuition – A girl’s best friend” and “Laughter”. We figured we’d finish the night on a high note laughing.

Recently I’ve been feeling really lost about my career and job, its one area of life where I am not happy and it’s affecting my overall happiness and I want to change that.

I’ve been praying and pretty much asking the universe for a sign to let me know where I need to head.

When Marg and I sat in the Intuition seminar and the lady started presenting – I felt this overwhelming sense of calm that this was my sign that I’d been asking for.

The presentation was done by Sonya from Universal Intelligence Group (http://www.accessingui.com/) and it was basically about being able to “tune in” to your intuition to help you make better decisions in business and in life in general.

There were two other women in the room from Universal Intelligence but they didn’t say or do anything – I was watching them specifically to see why they were there. At the end of the session we were told we were able to have a one on one session with either one of the women and we were to mention one area of our lives that we had not been able to be successful in.

I walked up to the lady who was closest to me. She didn’t really look at me or anything. She asked my name and what area of my life I had not been successful in. I simply replied “Relationships”. She closed her eyes, laughed and then opened here eyes and looked me straight in the eye and said “You believe you will never be happy”.

I replied that she’d hit the nail on the head and she closed her eyes again and then looked at my and said “Your higher self thinks you’re wrong”.

I was rocked to the core to think that someone who I had not met, not even really looked at had managed to get right to the very core of me.

The lady said her name was Jo and that I should stay back because she wanted to talk more. I stayed back after the session and we chatted. She said she had this overwhelming feeling that we would be working together one day. I was so happy to just be in the room and enjoy the energy that those women had.

I enrolled in a 3 day course on the Queen’s Birthday Long Weekend with Ui Group because I wanted to learn more about me and also how to find out what job I should really be doing with myself.

The course was incredible, I’m not sure what you think of quantum physics and how open minded you are but the things that I learnt to do are amazing. It turns out I can really listen to people’s intuition and their energy. I really love it too!

I’ve decided this is my path now. This is the way I am going to help people.

I did a 2 day course last weekend to start training as a mentor for the Ui Group. Someone who can help tune into others who don’t have the confidence to do it themselves. Not a clairvoyant or anything like that.

The course was absolutely brilliant and I got thrown in the deep end and had to tune into the people who run the course. I was stoked that the things I was getting were apparently spot on. So now I am in practise mode. I have to practise on 10 people from the Ui Group and then I am allowed to do my friends. It’s really incredible. Last night I tuned into a woman and got a message that her dad was sick in hospital. It turned out to be her stepfather but she calls him dad. This is a woman in Victoria that I have never met or even seen and was only talking to on the telephone. She cried!

I am really loving doing this and loving that I can bring messages to people. But also that I am now really listening to my own intuition and starting to trust myself and actually love myself.

If you are interested check out http://www.accessingui.com.au/

There are some brilliant youtube videos from people who have done the course and also of Dan explaining what Ui is. Dan and his wife Sonja started the company.

Ui YouTube Videos – http://www.accessingui.com/resources/video/

When love goes wrong

2010-06-20T04:48:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Here's a little story that started 12 years ago about 2 young kids, Verity, who was then 18 and A, who was 19.

These 2 kids had an instant attraction that started like all kid romances do. With fights and wrestles. Water bombs. Wedgies. All the sorts of behaviour that would make anyone think that they couldn't stand each other .... but that wasn't the case at all.

At 19 Verity moved away. But she continued to talk to A regularly and even visited him.
A got a girlfriend, apparently she didn't like Verity. She's never met Verity but had heard about her and A's bond.

The girlfriend tried to ban A from seeing Verity. Silly girl. They found ways to meet each other for dinner, coffee, lunch ..... any excuse.

The girlfriend became a fiance and yet A and Verity kept their bond. So tight.

Verity had boyfriends and yet none of them came near to A. She never loved anyone in the world the way she loved him.

A got married and still he and Verity had their bond. A pact they made when they were 19 and 20 to continue to stay in touch and remain close.

Verity got engaged and A's wife had a baby. Still the bond existed. They didn't see each other for about 3 years and yet the bond was still there.

Verity's engagement was called off. A was there for her.

Verity and A are still bonded together. Both very aware of how they feel about each other.

So the heart breaking fact is that A is in a marriage and can't get out and Verity won't dare enter a marriage knowing that she will never love anyone the way she loves A.

The moral..... don't give your heart away to someone as you may never get it back.

Love Verity

Kickboxing comedy

2010-05-16T20:00:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Last Wednesday night provided some first class entertainment for my kickboxing class.

It was a match similar to David and Goliath.

We all paired up for training and the two odd bods left were myself (all 5"3.5 of me) and A, who is one of the largest men I've come across. I would put him at 6"3 and twice my weight.

To be honest, A is the most gentle giant I have ever come across. He could have kicked me to kingdom come if he had of wanted to. But instead he put in average power kicks which certainly came nowhere near to hurting me.

In fact I felt rather bad, I hate stopping someone from getting a good training session in. And I'm certainly not a "delicate flower" - but for some reason the men at training actually worry about hurting a female. It's quite chivalrous.

But then the funny side started and I am sure my teacher (Khru) was having a good giggle at this.

We started doing leg kicks - no problem with that.

Then it was rib kicks. I had to stand on tippy toes to get my ribs high enough for A to kick. And conversely he had to bend down quite low to get his ribs at a level where I could comfortably kick them.

But then......

head kicks!

I literally could not lift my hand with the pad on it to A's head height. Hehehehe. It was a classic and the giggles that could be heard around the room let me know that everyone in the class saw the funny side.

I don't take being giggled at too well.

So when it came my turn to kick - I had no trouble kicking my own head height. I then told A to hold the pad at his head height. I was a little worried as I launched into the kick but for no reason.

I successfully put in a kick at A's head height and regained street cred in the dojo.

A was gobsmacked and said "Wow, you're flexible".

I looked at him with a sly grin and proudly stated "Of course, I'm a dancer!"

Hehehehe

Dancing, kickboxing accountants can do anything.

Love Verity

Fridge Appeal

2010-05-16T19:26:00.000-07:00

Hi all

I'm beginning to think I may have been single for far too long. What leads me to this decision is my growing affections for my new fridge.

I've recently acquired a lovely fridge and I find myself loving it more and more each day.

Here's why:

1. It's a good build - 402kgs is the "athletic" build of fridges - not a wussy little wimp but also not a meat head thug with a ice maker...(ie. a useless appendage).

2. It's well endowed in it's lower half - the freezer is on the bottom and is huge!

3. It gives me gifts - every time I open the door there is yummy food in there for me to eat. (Granted I had to purchase the food in the first place but I've bought my own gifts before so I'm not worried.

and the best thing.......

4. It's beautifully silent!

No wonder I don't need a man. I've got "Fernando - the Fridge".

Love Verity

Shakespearean Shenanigans

2010-04-21T06:11:00.001-07:00

Hi all

Recently I celebrated my 30th birthday and I thought that the I should celebrate the occasion with all the grace and style of a woman of 30.

I decided I wanted to dress as a faerie! Not just any faerie, mind, Titania - Queen of the faeries from the brilliant Shakespearean play "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

I sent out all the invites to my friends and stipulated that if I wanted to dress up - anyone wishing to attend the party would be required to dress up too. At first I sensed a little resistance from the male invitees. I had to explain to two of them that they did not have to dress as faeries - there were in fact humans in the play too. The guys were rather concerned that my party was at a function room in a hotel and to quote L, "Verity, I can't walk into a pub dressed as a faerie! I'll get beaten up!"

I eagerly awaited the night to see if people had made the same amount of effort on their costumes as I had.

I couldn't believe it, everyone who turned up had made a brilliant effort on their costumes.

There were numerous faeries off all descriptions, ladies dressed as Hermia, Grecian royalty, a pirate (I'm sure they had pirates in Athens at the time of the play), we had one man come as "The Wall", we had the Shakespearean Stage Hands", we had a brilliant Thisbe (beard and all) and the most amazing costume was.....

the pineapple!

I know..... I've seen numerous productions of A Midsummer Night's Dream, including one by the Royal Shakespeare Company, and never have I seen a pineapple.

My friend M came as a pineapple and the best part of the night was when he graced us with a brilliant display of what can only be described as break dancing skill at the end of the night.

It was the best night off my life and certainly softened the blow of turning the big 3-0!

Thanks to everyone for making it a brilliant night. I certainly feel like I'm more graceful and mature since turning 30 dressed as Queen of the Faeries. Hehehe.

Love Verity

Why it's called the funny bone?

2010-04-21T05:50:00.000-07:00

Hi all

For years I wondered why your elbow was called your funny bone.

In high school I came to the conclusion that it was called the funny bone because it was really funny to see someone else hit their funny bone. It's amazing the enjoyment one gets from seeing a fellow human in pain.

However tonight that long held theory was shattered as I really discovered why it's called the funny bone.

I was in the shower (I'd just got home from Muay Thai training so a shower was needed) and washing my hair. I had water pouring on me and shampoo in my eyes. I was following instructions from my hairdresser to the letter about giving my head a really good massage and also managing to sing at the top of my lungs when something tragic happened.

In my rapid hair washing, I managed to bring my elbow down and bang it on the soap holder. My soap holder is ceramic and is solidly attached to the wall of my shower.

I felt a searing bolt of pain shoot up my left arm which was followed by tingles and pins and needles. All this happened in a matter of seconds.

However it was like the next 5 seconds happened in slow motion as I had an out of body experience. I will try to explain it best I could.

I screamed in pain and shampoo streamed down my face, into my eyes and into my mouth. As I tried to wash the shampoo out of my eyes, I performed a 180 degree turn to get under the water. My right foot slipped on the shampoo that was running down into the drain and I started to fall.
My shower is not big but somehow I would up with one knee around my chin and the other sliding out from under me.
My arms were flailing about wildly and I was trying to grab onto anything to help me regain my balance. But that's the problem with showers - their walls are covered in tiles and when tiles are covered in shampoo they are very slippery.
In an act of what can only be described as "completely unusual grace" I slipped the bottom of the shower somewhat softly.
I sat there for a while assessing the damage - two legs (check), two arms (check - left one slightly tingly), head still on (check) - yippee - I was alive.
And best yet - there was no thud to alert the people in the flat below me to my mishap.
I got to my feet feeling rather proud of myself and thought "maybe now that I'm 30 I'm becoming graceful".
I continued my shower with the new found knowledge that the reason it's called the funny bone is that it makes you to funny things.

Love Verity

What the Neighbours Saw

2010-04-11T04:50:00.000-07:00

Hi all

I'm sure at one point in all of our lives we have or will find the urge to do a nudey run through the house.

Mine was not such an urge but more of a practicality.

Deep down... under the shoes, makeup and Tiffany... I'm a very practical girl.

So the other night when I was doing laundry after coming home from dancing I decided to be "practical".

Let me add one point for the peace of mind for all reading this - I was CERTAIN my housemate was not coming home. If there is ever any doubt about ones housemate coming home, one should never consider being nude anywhere in the house other than behind closed and locked doors.

I was putting in a load of darks and figured I may as well put my dancing clothes in - so as not to waste water doing another load of washing for 3 pieces of clothing. I'm environmentally aware!

The issue is.... the laundry is at the back of our apartment and my room is at the front...... closest to the balcony.

But I figured it was safe because, despite the distance to the safety of my room, no one was coming home to catch me.

I stripped off my stinky dancing clothes and threw them in the wash with a smug smile. Has anyone else noticed the liberating feeling of being naked in your own home when totally alone? Hehehe

I commenced my nude dash to my room - which was more of a stroll - after all no need to run, no one was home.

And that's when I heard it. The sound resonated clearly through the air.

A wolf whistle!

I stopped to assess where the sound was coming from and that's when I realised my error in judgement.....

Our glass doors to the balcony were wide open with the curtains drawn.

Oh cripes, the neighbours had a full view into our apartment.

Suddenly my stroll became a mad dash, followed by some heavy breathing and the slamming of my bedroom door.

And that's when I heard the second shocking sound...... clapping!

Oh no, the neighbours out the back had witnessed me in "all my glory". I wanted to die from embarrassment.

Today I relayed this story to a group of friends who had a totally different take on the situation.

And hence I am quite tempted to send "said neighbour" a bill for the viewing of my gorgeous body!

Hehehehe

Love Verity

Why cutting onions makes you cry

2010-04-05T02:31:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Any of the people who know me well can tell you I'm a gourmet chef! Indeed I've mastered the art of cooking all kinds of 2 minute noodles!

Anything greater than 2 minute noodles, sadly is not my forte.

But tonight I was on a mission. I was attempting the great feat of a ....... pasta bake!

I was doing exceptionally well. I'd managed to cook the pasta and was now chopping the ingredients to the sauce.

I'm always scared of cutting onions because the juices manage to make my eyes water. However tonight I was on a mission to not cry. I got my best knife out and figured out that if I held my head far enough away from the onion I wouldn't get the waft of the onion juice in my eyes.

Hahahaha, take that onion! I've foiled your wicked plan to make me cry.

I was happily slicing away, marvelling at my own ingenuity when I sliced through something that didn't appear to feel like onion.

Should I risk looking down to see what it was? But that might allow the onion fumes to get in my eyes.

I decide to risk it and luckily I did.... I'd managed to slice off my thumbnail and cut into my thumb - luckily not too deeply.

Owwww!!!!!

My eyes began to water and of course I cried.

So THAT'S why cutting onions makes you cry!

Not doing that again any time soon.

And on an aside note - typing with a thumb in a band aid is quite tricky.

Love Verity

Lent - What did you give up?

2010-03-28T01:38:00.000-07:00

Hi all

I watched a documentary on SBS yesterday on the history of Satan and how our culture came to recognise him as the evil creature he's known to be.

The whole concept really got me thinking. Have I been a good girl lately? I certainly haven't been to church anytime recently. But I'm a pretty good person. I share with people and do favours for friends. Surely that's enough right?

It's almost Easter and I started to think about lent. I'm not Catholic, never have been. But the concept of lent seems like a decent one to me. I've always "intended" to give up chocolate for lent. Never quite succeeded in convincing myself what the good of giving up my "soul food" would be though. Surely the church would not want me to suffer?

I was thinking about lent deeply today and considering what I should give up when someone made me aware that lent was in fact....... over.

Hmmmmm, I wonder what I went without for the whole period of lent that I could say that I gave up......

I know!!!

I'm a "good girl" because I gave up SEX for lent! (no one needs to know that it wasn't entirely voluntarily do they?)

So, now that lent is over........ (hehehe, just kidding, I'm sworn off men for a while, except for perving on cute ones in the supermarket).

Love Verity

Supermarket Shopping but not for Groceries

2010-03-28T01:03:00.000-07:00

Hi all

So now that I am single and officially "not dating" I've noticed the abundance of handsome men in the supermarket.

Today I actually managed to walk past the same, rather gorgeous, young man about 5 times as he was going through the aisles the opposite way to me and hence we kept meeting in the middle of each aisle.

So my question to the greater community is how do you "spark up a conversation" with a hot guy at the supermarket?

I know some slightly more forward girls would knock something off the shelf or pretend to not be able to reach something in a high place and get the young man in question to help them out that way.

However, that tactic really doesn't work for me. Years of Muay Thai has made me strong enough to lift anything I need. If it's heavier than I can lift... I really don't need it! It's also made me a little to proud to ask for help, I keep thinking to myself "If beating into a set of Thai pads twice a week has not made me strong, than I'm not sure what I'm doing it for".

Also, I've found that the angels that pack the shelves at my local supermarket put everything I need at a height within my reach. Examples of this - toothpaste, moccona coffee (you have to reach for the fancy stuff), my shampoo and most importantly the lollies and chocolates are all conveniently placed within my reach!

So the option of asking a guy to get something for me is out. Plus, I'm not sure how he'd respond to "Could you please help me get down the super sized pack of Gummi Bears?". I'd be expecting a response of "Nah, you've had enough already".

I tried to make eye contact with the nice young man while passing him in the aisle, but being a female driver, if I take my eyes off the road/aisle for two long I'm likely to crash into the long life milk and that would spell disaster. So it sorta ended up looking like I was a schizophrenic shopper and looking all over the place.

The one or two times I managed to lock eyes with this poor man in question I felt heat rise up my neck and managed a small smile and guilty giggle. Maybe he thought I'd just farted and was trying to signal to evacuate the aisle.

So anyway I gave up on the idea of talking to this guy and focused on getting through the check out and home. I stupidly took a wrong turn to get out of the store and had to push my trolley back up the hill to my car.

As I was going up the hill guess who was coming down??? Mr Hot Guy. He looked at me with a puzzled expression.

Oh great! Now not only does he think I'm the "supermarket farter" but I'm now a stalker.

Too focused on trying to get my trolley up to my car without it rolling away from me into the cars surrounding us I lowered my eyes in defeat and kept pushing up the hill. I could have really used someone to help me hold the trolley while I struggled to put my groceries in the boot.

I guess I should keep the supermarket shopping to food and household needs - not men.

Love Verity

The new definition of Krump

2010-03-20T18:55:00.000-07:00

Hi all

Firstly, for any of you who don't know what Krump is, don't bother reading this - you won't get it.

Secondly, for anyone who thinks that rapid booty shaking displayed by some dancers is Krump - you obviously don't get it either.

Krump is a style of dance that emerged out of South Central Los Angeles. The word Krump (it's not crump like a crumpet) is an acronym for Kingdom Radically Uplifted Might Praise. The style is characterised by arm swings, stomps, wobbles and chest pops and is meant to be aggressive and angry.

I happen to love Krump! I love watching it and I love doing it. It's one of the best methods of stress relief I've found.

Yesterday at dancing our teacher announced that our routine would be Krump. All the "prissy" girls groaned. Hehehe. No ballet moves today girls, we'll be doing the down and dirty nasty dancing.

Krump should really come with a warning - if you're a content person who has no real gripes about life - you can't successfully Krump! Smiling and krumping is not on at all.

However, after yesterday's class I think I should issue a few other warnings about krumping:

1. Don't stand too close to someone doing an arm swing. I managed to accidentally hit my friend in the face while spinning around and swinging my arm at the same time. Oops

2. Don't wear tight clothing if you are small and skinny (no matter how cute you think you look). You're not supposed to be cute. You're supposed to be ready for battle and looking bigger than your opponent is a good scare tactic.

3. Krump is for the young and very fit. I'm serious. I am in the greatest amount of pain that I have been in for a long time. My back is sore in 4 different places, my next feels like it's had a Chinese burn and my hips occasionally twinge with pain.

4. Krump is for the co-ordinated. I managed to swing my arms together in what was meant to be a clap and instead missed and punched myself in my own hand. My knuckle hit the heel of my other palm and I am now displaying a rather large blue bruise!

It is because of these things, I have come up with the new definition of Krump.

Kaotic
Rapid
Utterly exhausting
Malicious
Painful

Love Verity

Empowerment by Underwear

2010-03-20T18:30:00.000-07:00

Hi all

I recently read somewhere that orange is the colour of empowerment and women should wear orange to work when they have a bog day on eg. a job interview or important presentation to do.

This sparked my curiosity as I am often nervous in the workplace and any added empowerment that I can get is greatly appreciated.

There is ofcourse one slight technical problem..... my skin colouring dictates that I don't look overly brilliant in most shade of orange.

Not to be deterred, I figured out a brilliant plan........

I'll wear orange underwear!

My second technical problem is that I only own one piece of underwear that is orange..... a skimpy lace g-string! It's from Victoria's Secret and is quite gorgeous.

Last week I decided that I had a very busy Wednesday and my need for added empowerment would be great. I put on my lovely little g-string under my work clothes and proceeded to work, confident in the knowledge that I was about to have a brilliant day where I would complete everything on my to-do list and no hassle would be too great for me to handle.

However, it seems Wednesday had a totally different plan for me. I spent the day running around crazily, I achieved nothing on my to-do list and I was faced with numerous hassles that were all big enough to severely annoy me.

Therefore based on my experience, I have come to the following conclusions:

1. Perhaps the g-string was not enough orange to be truly powerful. Maybe next time I should wear an orange full body unitard under my work clothes!

or

2. Perhaps the empowerment principle only applies to outer clothing and perhaps I should have worn my g-string over my work clothes!

Frankly, both those thoughts really worry me and hence I've given up on the whole empowerment idea!

Love Verity

Back in time with the Backstreet Boys

2010-03-20T17:56:00.000-07:00

Hi all

I have a confession to make.... I'm a Backstreet Boys fan! Have been since I was about 15 years old when I first laid eyes on Nick Carter. Hehehe

Recently I got the opportunity to live out a teenage dream that I never got to so when I was 15. A group of my close girlfriends asked if I wanted to go to the concert. Silly question really. Did I want to go and watch 4 good looking men sing and dance on stage with a group of my friends where it is completely acceptable to scream and jump up and down.

Ofcourse I wanted to go!

Just before I get into the story, if you are starting to think that I am a little sad and might need my head checked..... sod off! I'm fine. It's my friend B who you've got to worry about. My obsession with Nick Carter is at a healthy level of merely screaming marriage proposals and confessing my undying love. B's infatuation with Howie D is a little more serious.

On the day of the concert I left work a little early after informing my team that I was going to the Backstreet Boys concert. My declaration was met with snickers and silly comments about me being the last fan on the planet. I knew those comments were incorrect - B's a fan too - therefore there are at least 2 Backstreet Boys fans on the planet. So there!

I had a brilliant drive up to the venue and got in early to find C who was waiting inside in the foyer. Apparently C had gotten Bronze tickets which allowed her to go to the sound check. She was a little disappointed because they only sang 2 songs, and the tickets were quite expensive.

But where was B? She'd gone to the sound check too. But........ at the very last minute upon learning that Howie D was taking the backstage tour, B had upgraded to Platinum class tickets and was apparently no doubt following the man of her dreams around backstage.

C and I were chatting and wondering where K was when the message came through that she was stuck in traffic. Poor girl! Brisbane roads are still not what they should be.

When I said B was infatuated with Howie D, it was an understatement. When she finally came out after the backstage tour she looked like she was on cloud 9. C and I asked how it was and B was speechless (this was quite possibly a first for our little B). All she could manage was a huge grin, furious nodding and arm flapping movements that signified extreme bliss!

It must have been good.

When B was finally capable of coherent speech she told us all about the backstage tour, it actually sounded brilliant, wish I could have gone, sadly my credit card couldn't have afforded it - such is the downside of Internet shopping. There's never money available for the important things when they come up. Yes! A backstage tour of the Backstreet Boys concert is considered important!

Anyway, B showed us her sign for Howie that he'd signed for her. It was brilliant, I'd always pictured having signs at a Backstreet Boys concert when I was 15. Mine would have been a giant one that said "Marry me Nick!". Not so much a question.... as an order.... that's just how I roll.

K finally got out of the traffic and we managed to get ourselves into the concert and into our seats in the 3rd row! So awesome. We were so close to the stage that we could see everything.

Sadly that meant we were so close we could see how short and tight Ricky-Lee's dress was. Not so good really.

I love Ricky-Lee, I find she's really entertaining and I am so pleased to support a Queensland girl who is following her dream. She's a beautiful girl and has lovely curves and frankly...... her stylist should be shot! The outfits she ends up wearing do nothing for her!

Ok, that's my little rant out of the way. Actually..... there's more

Why are us curvy girls expected to wear clothes designed to be worn by surfboards (and yes, I mean models, take a good look at one next time - they bear a striking resemblance to surfboards)? We are expected to squeeze out gorgeous curves into outfits that then smooth out all the curves and turn us into planks of wood - straight up and down.

It's the most frustrating thing in the planet and I really hope we eventually get back to a state where society appreciates a girl that looks like a girl! Ricky-Lee looks like a girl. Her curves are awesome. They should be embraced, not squeezed into tight, plank-like clothes!

Ok, now I'm done. I promise.

What was I talking about?

Oh right.... so we were so close to the stage that when the Backstreet Boys came on, they could see us clearly.

And this is where things jumped back in time 15 years. C and K had deliberately put B and I together so that they could pretend that they didn't know us.

From the minute the boys came out on stage, B and I were on our feet and bouncing (I found out the next day that bouncing at 30 is harder than bouncing at 15....). We held our Nick and Howie signs up and the boys pointed and waved at us.

B's night was made when Howie tried to throw a rose to her but it went to a girl behind us. Doesn't matter though, we know it was for her.

Next tour, I think that B and I should volunteer as backup dancers. I looked across at B and noticed that I was not the only one who could still remember dance moves from film clips in the 90s. Hehehee

B and I sang at the tops of our lungs, waved frantically every time one of the boys came to our side of the stage and danced and jumped all night long. It was honestly the best night I've had in ages. And it's exactly the way I used to dream about things happening when I was 15.

So, to all you people who are laughing at me, I say this.....

"I'm a Backstreet Boys Fan. And I want it that way!"

Love Verity

Possum Play

2010-03-13T20:30:00.000-08:00

Hi all

Greetings from Sunny Melbourne. I've finished some of my uni work and hence thought it might be a good time for a little update!

I'm so blessed to have brilliant friends in Melbourne to take care of me whenever I come down for my studies. Miss B is the person who takes the most care of me, she takes me to and from the airport and provides me with a safe warm place to sleep for the few nights I stay.

One of the things that makes B one of the most interesting people in the world to be friends with is that she's a volunteer rescuer for Wildlife Victoria. I always hear the funniest stories from B when I ask about her rescues....... never did I think I would be part of them.......

It all started on Thursday night when I arrived in Tullamarine at 11.30pm. Luckily I'd managed to get a bit of sleep on the plane because I wasn't getting to sleep anytime soon.

B pulled up in her little silver car and told me to watch out for the possum when I was putting my bags on the back seat. I froze and my first thought was "There's a possum loose in the car, oh dear". I then saw the cage on the back seat and realised said possum was inside and I was safe from little claws.

Once I was in the car and we were driving off B informed me that she'd just picked the possum up on the way to collect me from the airport and we had to take him and release him in St Kilda. For anyone who's not up on Melbourne geography..... St Kilda is a thriving hub for cool bars, bohemian people, hookers and...... possums!

Apparently the rather psycho possum (he'd managed to bite the vet whilst under general anaesthetic!!) had been trapped by a man in St Kilda and taken to the vet. But the possum wasn't ill. So the vet called B and she had to take him and release him and reprimand the man for trapping the possum.
Possums are very territorial and this particular possum was an alpha male (although if possums are anything like humans - every male thinks he's an alpha male) so we had to return him to the exact location of where he was found..... the man's backyard! Hehehehe. So much for him getting rid of his possum problem.

I would have loved to have taken a picture of the man's face when he opened the door and found 2 young ladies on his doorstep - both in professional attire (I'd gone straight from work to the airport and B had gone from work to uni and then the vet and then the airport and so on) and one holding a large cage containing a possum.

We made our way down a very tight stairwell, which in itself is difficult to negotiate in stilettos, through in a caged possum and a tired traveller and it makes for an interesting sight.

When we got to the backyard we put the cage down and tried to see where in the cage the possum was. The possum was obviously keen to get out because he was clinging to the front door for dear life (although after a bumpy ride coming down the stairs he may have just been holding on for stability).

With one quick flick of the cage door, the possum was off home and B and I were able to head back to her place for sleep.

I was so excited that I had finally gotten to take part in B's wildlife rescuing...... imagine how happy I was to get to do it the next night!

On Friday night I finished uni and made my way into the city to catch up with N and later have dinner and dessert with K (as a totally aside point - we had Max Brenner for dessert which was heaven). After dinner K dropped me back at B's place and I waited out the front for B to get home. When she arrived she informed me that we had to go back to St Kilda to rescue a possum in a church.

Immediately I pictured a church in my mind..... very high ceilings! Oh goodness, were B and I expected to swing from the rafters while chasing a possum? I'm terrified of heights, hmmm, actually, never mind the heights....... how on earth would I have the strength to climb up there?

Once again I would have loved a camera to take a picture of the lady's face when she answered the door of the rectory. She and her husband must have been Deacons of the church cos it was a Catholic Church and as far as I know, nuns aren't allowed husbands. When she opened her front door she was confronted with B who was once again in her work attire and carrying a large cage, and me in jeans with a huge possum net. Quite a funny sight.

The lady explained that the possum had been found at the back of the church (which was a gorgeous old Catholic Church with ridiculously high ceilings) by the cleaners and was in a back room - phew..... no climbing or swinging from the rafters required. Hehehehe

B went into the back room armed with a torch and a towel to find the possum and in a matter of 2 minutes had caught the little male ring tail. He was so cute and so frightened that is was hard to not feel sorry for him. B took him outside and found a suitable tree to release him in. She informed the lady that because the possum had a way of getting in the church, he'd continue to get in until the holes in the building were plugged.

I was super chuffed that I'd been part of another happy possum story - despite being rather superfluous to the whole procedure. Like Baby in "Dirty Dancing" when she says "I carried a watermelon"........ "I carried a net!"

I know you think I am now exaggerating, but my third night in Melbourne involved possums aswell. Although not rescuing them. Hehehehhee

After a lovely dinner with a group of 7 of the coolest people in Melbourne (I expect royalties for that comment people) we decided to take a walk along St Kilda beach to this cool park where B wanted to show me what happens when you destroy possum habitat. Sorry B, can't remember the name of the cool park.

As we neared the park B squealed in a way that can only be described as "the female version of Steve Irwin" that there were water rats in the bushes. So B darted over to the bushes, I followed in hot pursuit and I came along for a viewing of the illusive water rats too. It turns out that the little critters are shy and don't take kindly to squealing, running humans. So by the time I and myself had caught up to B the water rats had darted. However I caught a small glimpse of one as he headed up a tree. Obviously he's the high diving champion of water rats and was planning a grand entrance into the sea. Hehehe

We got so caught up in the water rats that we didn't notice that the rest of our group of friends were looking at us like we were freaks. C did a brilliant re-enactment of the scene and followed it with a "Crikey" pose to reiterate how nuts he thought we were.

What C didn't realise is that Steve Irwin had a point and a real message behind his conservation attempts.

We eventually found a few trees where it seemed that over 50 possums had to live. Possums are territorial so they were fighting badly but there is nowhere else for them to go. It's really quite sad that we've destroyed the habitat of our native animals to the point where they now live in our backyards and fight each other daily. They then have to scavenge in our bins for food because we've taken theirs and then they risk life and limb crossing streets to get home to their families.

Humans have a lot to answer for eh?

I know I'll always be offering to help B on her wildlife rescues when I am down there for a visit.

Love Verity

A trip through the Clem 7 Tunnel

2010-03-02T03:38:00.000-08:00

Hi all

On Sunday I took part in the historic (at least for Brisbane) event of walking through our newly built tunnel.

It started with me meeting a group of friends at Chalk Hotel, catching a bus to the city, catching a special "Clem 7" bus back past the Chalk Hotel, almost to my house and then into the tunnel.

For all who were not able to witness this momentous event...... The Clem 7 tunnel looks like every other tunnel ever built. Actually that's not true, it's newer than some of them and hence does not have tiling up the walls.

After a bus ride through one side of the tunnel where I discovered my iPhone still got reception.... Love the phone. I felt compelled to leave a message on my friends face book page that I was in the tunnel....... Why???? Why else!!! Because I could!

We reached the end of the tunnel and were ushered off the bus. We had to walk around the left side and across a bridge full of pointless stalls only to get back to where we started except on the other side of the road. What a waste of time.

Actually walking through the tunnel was good, the ventilation was decent and the exhaust fans created a breeze which was pleasant.

To be honest, I was walking through the tunnel with a sense of impending doom. I had this feeling I was going to slip or fall.

Can you blame me? My track record speaks for itself.

Eventually I relaxed and enjoyed an in depth political discussion with my friends mum. So in depth that I forgot to look where I was walking and managed to trip over a silent copper on the road.

Well at least I didn't fall. Hehehe

Love Verity

Because of the rain I did........

2010-03-02T02:18:00.001-08:00

Recently there has been a little bit of rain...... ok that's an understatement.... it's been pouring for almost a week now.

The rain makes you realise how many silly little things you do - or is that just me?

Yesterday I wore a white shirt and quickly realised the error of my ways when I got drenched racing from my car to my office. I managed to get through the front door unnoticed and dried my top before anyone asked if I was entering a wet t-shirt competition.

So this morning, not wanting a repeat of yesterday I wore a black shirt. As I triumphantly walked down to my car from my apartment I had a little inner smile thinking I'd beaten the rain.

My inner smile turned to an inner look of horror as I reached my car and remembered I'd parked a little close to a shrub on the drivers side of the car.

If I tried to get in the car I risked getting wet anyway from rubbing up against my car and a wet tree.

Then I had a thought...... "I'm a clever girl. I'll get in the passenger side and scoot across to the drivers side".

It wasn't until I was sitting in the passengers side of the car that I realised that I had a skirt on. How was I meant to get across to the other side of my car when they were held together by a piece of fabric intended to make me look feminine?

Then I had another brilliant thought.......

I took a quick look around the car park to make sure no one was looking, hitched the skirt up to my waste and quickly performed a yoga-esque move to get myself into the drivers seat.

Once again I was enjoying a little inner smile and thinking how clever I was and how Belle from "The Secret Diary of a Call Girl" would be proud of me. She's always on about remaining classy! Hehehe. I think I maintained my class whilst having my skirt up around my waist. Hehehe

And then I was challenged again at lunch.....

My first challenge was to find a park, I was driving down a side street and spotted a teeny car pulling out - Oh what the heck, I was going to give it a go.

After performing, what can only be described as the most pathetic parallel park ever (trust me, I'd know, I'm a specialist!), I got out and started hurrying up the road to meet my friend.

I was walking gingerly across some grass - so as not to aerate the owners lawn - and I spotted a council worker looking at me and grinning. "I must look hot walking like this" I thought as I walked past me. He gave me a friendly smile.

As I walked away with another "inner smile" I looked down and realise why the guy had smiled at my...... one of my buttons on my top had popped open and I'd given him a private viewing of my bra!

Oh my goodness, the worst thing was that I was now on Park Rd which is a busy cafe strip made even busier by the fact that it was lunch time and people were out running errands and getting lunch.

So now, half of Milton was watching me fumble with the buttons in my chest region.

Great!

I got to lunch and told my friend about it. He wasn't even shocked.... none of my friends are anymore. Hehehe. They get this understanding look as they listen to my latest embarrassing tale. Hehehe

Walking back to my car it started raining harder and I tried to put my cute little umbrella (got it from Harrods - it fits in my handbag) up I managed to trip at the same time. At least I got a smile from the man in the suit watching me.

This rain is challenging stuff, you have to plan what to wear, where to park your car and consider the co-ordination required to walk and open an umbrella at the same time.....

I sure hope the rain stops soon!

Love Verity

Speaking Literally

2010-03-02T01:54:00.000-08:00

Hi all

I can thank my good friend’s husband for bringing my recent “Flirting Faux Pas” to my attention.

Apparently the military training and working as an accountant has had an effect on me and has infact reduced my “flirt radar” and ability to respond accordingly.

To back up the above claims I have the following examples….

I got a message on face book from a guy whom I hadn’t met before but apparently is part of my kickboxing dojo (White Fury). Message as follows:

Guy – “Hey there, You go to White Fury and you also know A P. How have we never met?”

Apparently this is a pick up line! I only just found this out when I met up with A the other day who asked if anything had happened with me and his friend.

I told Andrew that I’d heard nothing from his friend after I responded to his message. A asked how I responded…. Maybe I scared him off?

My response was – “Well I’ve only just been back training at White Fury for four weeks and I only know A because he married my best friend Lenora. That’s probably how we never met”

A informed me that my answer was far too literal, his mate was trying to ask me for a meet up….. not actually find out the logistics of how we had never met.

Oops!!

I got a SMS from a nice guy I’ve been seeing a bit the other day saying the following:

Guy – “Hey Sexy, How was your day?”

I responded – “Super busy actually. I’m so tired. But my boss is a good boss so I don’t mind working so hard. I’m looking forward to going home and relaxing”

Apparently I’ve since been made aware that the appropriate response to such a question from a man is “Great Tiger, How was your day?”

The best one of all was the text message discussion I had with a guy where I had been commenting that I had trouble sleeping in this heat.

The guy then said – “Yeah I have trouble sleeping alone too these days”

My response was priceless – “You need a teddy! I have a stuffed dragon named Saphira!

He quickly changed the subject!!!!!

So in summary, it seems that when men ask questions they don’t actually mean what they are asking? Why does no-one speak English anymore? If I wanted to know if someone wanted to go on a date with me I would just ask them. Why ask someone how their day was unless you expect to be told?

Oh well. heaven help the guy who tried to use sexy innuendo on me……. He may get more than he bargained for!!

Love Verity

So why does it hurt?‏

2010-03-02T01:48:00.000-08:00

Hi all

As a change from my usual funny stories here’s a more soulful one. (Believe it or not, when I am not crashing through the forest on a horse or being beaten to a pulp at kickboxing, I have a softer side).

As many of you know, this is my 30^th year on the planet and as I slowly approach the status of “Bridget Jones from Brisbane” I stop to wonder why this is my lot in life.

After a series of dud relationships and a failed engagement I am starting to wonder what is wrong with me. How is it that most of my school girlfriends have successfully managed to meet a nice man, marry him and are now on to starting families? Am I incapable of this?

Most recently I’ve been seeing a guy, we’ll call him Bruce for the purpose of this email. Bruce is a 33 year old man who’s longest relationship has been 18 months. On the surface Bruce appeared a good catch because he didn’t have any physical baggage (kids & crazy exs) but emotional baggage he had plenty.

After 2 months of seeing each other, during which time Bruce had introduced me to his parents and quite a few friends, I asked Bruce if he was my boyfriend. Was this not a valid question? Obviously not to Bruce. He required over a week to consider his answer.

Actually, had I not decided to bring things to a head yesterday, Bruce would have continued to consider his answer whilst still wanting hugs and kisses etc. That’s not fair is it?

I got fed up and ended things with Bruce last night. Bollocks to him!

So why am I sad?

I know I’m not sad about Bruce – like I said Bollocks to him!

But what does this mean to me? I am so sick of “Groundhog Day”. Am I supposed to be learning a big life lesson like Bill Murray and continuing to miss the point. I know I’m daft…. But am I that daft?

Where on earth are the nice single over 30 men who have a plan in life and are into achieving goals. Men who wish to build a life with a partner. Is that so much to want? Really? I am not wanting Disney – I realised long ago that when it says that Sleeping Beauty and the Prince lived happily ever after it was only meant for people who had servants and the likes. Hehehe

Anyway, that’s my little rant – a familiar one that most of you all have heard from me before anyway.

But here’s the silver lining of the storm cloud….. Bruce has started kickboxing….. and seems to think that if he trains with me I’ll go easy on him….. someone should tell him there’s no fury like that of a woman scorned. Look out Bruce!

Love Verity

Riding in the rain (nothing like Singing in the Rain)‏

2010-03-02T01:23:00.000-08:00

Hi all

I promised there would be a story about the Competitive Trail Ride that I entered yesterday with Ivan.... and there is!

Technically the story starts on Saturday night when I thought it would be a good idea to drive to Woodford after going to my friend J's 30th birthday party. The plan was to sleep at Woodford on Saturday night to avoid getting up super early on Sunday morning to fetch the horses. It was a good plan.

Somehow instead of leaving J's party at about 8pm like I had planned, I got so excited about seeing my bestest buddy (haven't seen J for almost 5 years) that I wound up staying till 9.30pm. That meant I didn't get to Woodford till about 11pm. And it was misty and drizzly and I wasn't totally sure of where I was going (had only been to the B's house once before in the daylight).

I managed to find all the right turn offs and even remembered to slow down coming up the driveway incase any of the cows were sleeping on the driveway. I can hear you laughing now. But C has hit 2 cows driving up that driveway at night and trust me, the car comes off worse. They are the biggest fattest cows I've seen in a while and they'd make quite a dent.

I made it up to the house safely and was greeted by "The Welcoming Committee" - Rusty and Jelly Bean (the dogs) were happy to see me! C was not so happy as she'd just gotten to bed, only to be woken up by my arrival.

Sunday morning started off well. C and I got dressed (might I just add that Jodhpurs are the height of fashion wear! For anyone larger than a size 6 they really do wonders to emphasise every dimple in ones thighs. If I ever plan to attend a fancy dress party as a piece of cottage cheese - I'll be wearing white jodhpurs!) and started to get the car and float ready.

That's when the rain started. It was only drizzling though. C and I looked at each other assessing if either of us was going to back down. But pride seemed to spur us both on. Despite the looks we got from C's mother that signalled we were about to become a pair of wet riding morons!

We took the big float which meant we had to have the land cruiser. We were thankful for having the 4WD later as it saved us from getting bogged. Pushing a car out of a ditch is one thing, pushing a car and a float and 2 horses out is another!

Once we'd sorted out which legs to put the floating boots on the horses (they are like padded guards you put around the horses legs to stop their legs getting hurt when they are in the float) (deciding which legs to put them on is not difficult for anyone other than me!!!)

We loaded up Ivan and Lolly on the float. Ivan and Lolly are friends so we figured that they would be the best pair to take along on the ride cos Ivan would follow Lolly anywhere - I foolishly thought this would mean that Ivan would be easier to handle. I was to be proved wrong by Ivan!

C and I safely arrived at the ride location in Morayfield and got the horses off the float. We then had to take them for their vet check. The horse gets their blood pressure and temperature taken by a vet to see if they are healthy. I'm not sure that Ivan was overly keen to have the thermometer put up his butt - but he's a veteran at these sorts of rides so he was well behaved.
I then had to make Ivan trot around a short circuit by running with him. I've never had to do this before. I really wasn't sure how I was going to let Ivan know that I wanted him to trot. So I took off at a jog lifting my knees up high in front of me to demonstrate to Ivan that he should trot. Ivan obeyed and I figured I had done the right thing. I finished and got back to C who had a huge grin on her face and mentioned that "I had a gorgeous trot and that the vets were more than likely watching me instead of Ivan". Oops.
Tip for new players - if you jog with a horse he'll more than likely trot - you don't need to show him what to do by prancing around a field like an idiot!

But I was not to be deterred. Ivan and I had passed our first test with flying colours.

C and I headed back to the float with the horses and got ready to saddle up. Just as we'd managed to get the saddles on the horses the rain poured down. Normally this would not worry me because a saddle is leather and can be towelled down before you sit on it....... but I was using Christine's mum's endurance saddle (I'd never even sat on one before) and it has a sheepskin cover. C and I were huddled up in the land cruiser waiting for the heavy rain to pass so we could get on the horses and be ready for our next tasks before the ride. The rain was pouring down and all I could do was look at that saddle and try not to think what sitting on it was going to be like.

As this was a competitive trail ride there are a number of tasks you have to complete along the course of the ride. You had to complete 3 tasks before you were allowed to commence the ride.
1. Present your horse and have your gear checked for safety
2. Mount your horse
3. Open a gate, walk through the gate and shut the gate (all on horseback).

I figured I better practise my mount by the float so I don't embarrass myself in front of the judges. Both C and K can attest to how ungraceful I am when mounting a horse. There's quite a bit of jumping, and then some heaving and then some leg swinging, butt in the air at all times and then finally there's a thud as I sit on the horse. I figure it's my signature move! (like gymnasts get a difficult move named after them.... one day young horse riders will be asked to perform "The Blackwell Mount")
I performed my mount in true fashion and was ready for the thud as my bottom hit the saddle...... but instead of a thud, there was a large squelch and water sprayed out from under my bottom in all directions. I'd totally forgotten that the sheepskin saddle cover was drenched. Eeeewwwwwww! Wet butt! Wet butt in jodhpurs! And worst of all, I now had to dismount and then go and perform the whole thing over again with an audience. Eeeeek!

So Ivan and I lined up for our gear check - pass!
We then line up to perform our mount - with the aid of a step - pass!

Next the gate.... I've never opened a gate on horseback before.... let alone on Ivan. He and I stood waiting to see C go through on Lolly without a hitch. It didn't look so hard, I figured I knew what I had to do to get Ivan lined up next to the gate so I could lean over and open in........ what I hadn't counted on was Ivan!
I rode Ivan up, but instead of going parallel like I wanted him to Ivan headed to the gate head on, proceeded to put his mouth over the top of the gate and push! Oh great, I was riding Mr Ed, and he obviously wanted to help out the "amateur" on his back. The judges stifled their giggles as I explained that Ivan was a seasoned professional at opening gates and was trying to help me out. One of the judges tried to help me out and we eventually convinced Ivan that I should open the gate since I was the one with opposable thumbs! We rode through the gate and went to close it. Ivan walked straight up to the gate and closed it with his mouth. The problem was... he figured that he'd completed the task and was now keen to head off after C and Lolly so as not to get left behind. I then had a fight on my hands to get Ivan to let me ride him up to the gate and close it so that we could complete the task. The longer it took us, the more distressed Ivan got because he could see Lolly walking away. He would not listen to any of the commands I gave him and eventually we failed the task. We actually got the gate closed but it took longer than the 3 minutes we were allotted - nice work Ivan!

We joined C and Lolly at the beginning of the course and headed off down the road to the forest where the track was. We missed a right turn and were corrected by two other riders who had completed the track and were on their way home - off to a good start!

And YES, we'd been given a map of the course, but neither C or I had bothered to take the map because it was pouring rain and it would be soggy anyway. So there - we only got lost twice the whole day anyway!

Into the forest we headed, it was about 11am and it had been raining all morning. It was safe to say that any dirt track that had previously existed was now officially mud and the mud was starting to form mini dams and waterholes. Yay!

I'm going to summarise how the majority of the ride progressed because this email would be a small novel otherwise. We trotted along between judging points, C in the lead and me behind. At each judge point C would perform the tasks well on Lolly and be off. I would then explain to the judges that Ivan refused to listen to me and that we didn't really care about the marks allocated to each task I was more interested in staying alive. All this was done whilst Ivan was bolting through the judging point trying to catch up to Lolly. Each time the judges looked on with amusement (or maybe it was amazement - not quite sure). I wish I could see the comments they were writing "Number 68 - nutty apologetic girl on crazed chestnut horse. Rider not in charge of horse. Rider should be one with the bit in her mouth as the horse is in charge!). Each time C would watch with a grin on her face like the Cheshire cat. Each time I would pat Ivan, tell him he was a good boy and thank the lord I'd managed to hang on while he uncontrollably ran back to Lolly.

The highlight of the day was when I finally realised what Ivan's major issue was. Actually I was beginning to realise the horse had many issues (almost as many as me - poor guy) - but his MAJOR issue of the day was....
Ivan didn't like hearing horses trotting up behind him. I guess he couldn't see where the noise was coming from and hence it spooked him.

At one stage of the ride, C and I were chatting away, the rain was pouring down and I was amusing myself with thoughts of losing the trail ride but winning the wet t-shirt comp when I heard a rider trotting up behind us.....
Ivan heard it too....
I didn't have time to prepare myself as Ivan launched into a gallop. In the forest! In the pouring rain! Between trees! I'd lost one foot out of the stirrup because I was already finding the endurance saddle hard to ride in (the stirrups are not like normally ones and I wasn't used to them), however Ivan then went past a tree too close and I hit my knee hard against a trunk. That knocked the other foot out of the stirrup. Oh holy Jesus! I was galloping through the bush on a crazed horse with no stirrups and I'd dropped the reigns! I leaned forward and grabbed Ivan around the neck - I was temped the choke the stupid animal! A thought flashed through my head "Hey! I saw this in the circus once! If accounting doesn't serve me, I could be a circus clown!". Ivan was showing no signs of slowing so I inched myself forward and grabbed the reigns at either side of the bit in his mouth and pulled for all I was worth. I tried to pull his head round to one side but he was too strong and I was not thinking straight by that stage anyway. Ivan slowed to a trot but then started to circle like a spooked horse does.
Poor guy, when he finally stopped I jumped off and tried to calm him down. Ivan was wide eyed and quite obviously spooked. He kept looking around at the ground and trees - obviously searching for drop bears and hoop snakes!

After a cuddle, some kisses (that's me kissing Ivan on the nose) and some deep breaths I then had to remount Ivan. Not as easily done as you'd think. I was drenched, some rain, some sweat and who knows for sure... I'd probably wet myself with fear by then too cos I was close to breaking point. Smell check.... sniff sniff... phew, just rain and sweat! The first attempt at remounting failed because my hand slipped from the saddle and I very nearly landed on my butt in the mud. But there was no way I was going to fall in the mud trying to get back on the horse after I had just fought so hard not to come off at a gallop. Second attempt was successful and we were on our way.

C and I agreed that we were no longer having fun and that we would find the quickest way to get back to base camp. Bugger the rules, bugger the judges... no doubt they'd be sending my wooden spoon in the mail anyway!

With minimal hitches - no actually with one more major hitch - ie. we got lost and wound up doing part of the course twice - we returned back to base camp.

We checked that there was no legal requirement for us to wait around and get the horses vet checked again and commenced pack up.

We were mid way through washing down the horses when the heaves opened yet again and helped us out.

That was the final straw, we packed up, floated the horses (this time getting the boots on the right feet first go) and headed off.

We are luck we left when we did, the paddock was turning into a boggy mess. C did a brilliant 4 wheel driving performance of getting us through some mud without getting bogged.

We were off home. The seats were drenched from our wet clothes but we didn't care. We just wanted to get home and dry.

Anyone who owns horses knows that when you come back from a ride you can't just take off and look after yourself. So we needed to do everything for the horses and put all the gear away first. It was still raining!

Finally I got a nice warm shower and packed up my things and headed for home.

At about Bribie Island I realised I'd left my boots at the B's house - bugger it - Oh well, there will be no riding for a while.... not because I have no boots....

Because I got home and realised that 2 hours of trotting and cantering leaves one's body in an excruciating amount of pain.
I am not exaggerating. I had trouble sleeping last night cos I couldn't find a spot to lie on that wasn't sore.

Ooooowwwwwwwwwwww!

But I had fun, and no doubt I'll do it again!

Love Verity

The Adventures of Verity and Ivan the Horse

2010-03-02T01:13:00.000-08:00

Hi all

In the beginning there were two friends – C and Verity – both girls like horses and luckily C had some horses.

I consistently pestered C to let me ride one of her horses and therefore C suggested that they both enter a trail ride event to occur at the end of January.

I was delighted at this proposal but also a little unnerved by the prospect of going on a competitive trail ride after 6 months of not riding and also riding a horse (Ivan) that she had never been ridden before. Ivan has been living in his paddock with his horse friends for the past few months and generally living like a pet. No work, no one riding him – it’s a good life for a horse!

This brings us the present day – well actually yesterday.

C and I decided that in order to prepare for next weekend’s trail ride I would go over to her parent’s house and we’d have a ride to ensure that I was still ok with the basic stuff I’ll be required to do.

Ivan is a 16 year old chestnut who reminded me of Lucky in Victoria who I’d been riding quite a bit. He stood nicely while I brushed him and let me put his saddle on.

He even stood still while I performed the “Most tragic and ungraceful mount ever”. C’s mum even commented that for a dancer with strength and flexibility it was the most awkward and silly looking attempt at getting on a horse she’d seen in a while.

What can I say? I am unique! (K can probably attest to the level of un-co-ordination I display when getting on and off horses). Unco!!

Once I was on I successfully reversed Ivan out of the bay and we were off down the road for a warm up walk. Well…. I wanted to go for a warm up walk… Ivan??? He preferred NOT to go for a warm up walk. It seems Ivan was being a wuss because he wasn’t shod and didn’t want to hurt his “tender horsey hooves” on the gravel drive way.

So I started with some tongue clicking and reign slapping. I then decided that perhaps Ivan wasn’t aware that I wanted him to walk so I rocked back and forth in the seat to simulate the movement that I wished to occur.

Still no response.

So I gave him a good sharp kick – well that got a response! Ivan headed down the driveway, took the corner sharply ensuring that I got a face full of tree – thanks Ivan!

Once we were all saddled up and on our way I was quite comfortable. Ivan walks nicely and was fairly responsive to my commands.

Ivan and I are actually quite well suited, we both have big rumps and like to eat on the run. It seems that every long reed we passed had to be stretched for and eaten. That led to some very close calls when Ivan forgot he had a rider on and got a little too close to fence posts – no worries Ivan, I already had a bruise on that leg anyway!

I quickly realized that Ivan doesn’t like to be left behind. So I placed myself in the middle of the group. C in the Lead on Lolly and S bringing up the Rear on Taree. Ivan and I happily walking along between the two mares. However Taree doesn’t like to be left behind either so she was always trotting up to catch up.

And whenever Ivan heard her trotting up, he decided that meant we should trot too! The first time he did it I was completely caught off guard. I hadn’t asked him to trot – so why was he trotting??

That was when I discovered the difference between Lucky and Ivan. Lucky has a lovely smooth comfortable trot. However, Ivan (being an Arab Horse), has an extremely bouncy trot. Couple that with being unprepared to trot and I found myself with a very sore butt.

After a few goes of this I cottoned on to Ivan’s game and the trotting ceased unless I asked him to trot.

So we were going along nicely, we’d even managed going on the road with cars going by and had no hassles. We’d passed the herd of cattle who appeared to want a rumble (they looked rather mad at us for disturbing their eating – it might have also had something to do with the dog “Rusty” trying to round them up) with minimal upset.

So right before we got to C’s house I asked Ivan to walk down off the road onto the grass so he could give his delicate hooves a break from the hard stones.

This is where we encountered the difficulty.

I asked Ivan to walk down the ditch. Ivan stopped, assessed the ditch, figured the grass was slippery and thought it he slipped he might fall on Lolly. That would be tragic.

So Ivan, being the logical kinda horse that he is, decided to jump down the ditch!

Well, I wasn’t ready for a jump! My right foot flew out of the stirrup, I screamed, the stirrup came down on Ivan’s side and must have felt like a kick cos he took off at a gallop. I managed to hang on to the reigns and even grip Ivan with my right leg (lucky I have the thighs of a dancer) and slow him down.

This is where I learnt that Ivan doesn’t understand the word “Whoa”. So I tried some others….. “Ivan F*&King stop”, “Holy S%$t, I’m going to fall”, “For F%$ks sake Ivan, Stop” – the last one worked!!!!

So Ivan now has a whole new vocabulary!!!

Once he’d stopped I got my foot back in the stirrup and there was no further hiccups till we got home.

Ivan and I discussed the issue and he appeared a little sorry and regretful for his jump. I forgave him and no doubt we will have a brilliant ride next Sunday.

But if we don’t…… you’ll be hearing about it.

Love Verity

A happy start to the new year..... accountant style

2010-03-02T01:07:00.000-08:00

Hi all

Couldn’t resist having my first little email of the New Year as one of an update on what “Happy New Year” means to accountants!

Happy New Year means

- working till 11.30pm on New Years Eve to get December Accounts up to scratch

- waking up early on New Years Day – cos obviously there’s no hang over – and working again to get December numbers in

- entering the rest of the December numbers half way through Saturday the 2^nd of January and feeling pretty darn clever about it

- getting to 10am on the 4^th of January and closing December – big claps for the little accountant who beavered her weekend away!!!!

And what will this little accountant be doing on her second weekend in 2010?????……… working!!!!…… (marking exam papers – but this time I actually get paid an hourly rate).

So happy New Year to me as my hard work will pay off when I manage to live through our upcoming audit.

Hope everyone else did something a little more interesting than me, although having said that…. I still found time to buy 3 pairs of shoes with E, watch Avatar in 3D and get the surround system set up at home so I can watch my DVDs in style!!

Love Verity

Farewell 2009

2010-03-01T02:18:00.000-08:00

Hi all

I figured I’d write a little summary of 2009 so I can lay it all out to rest on paper…. and then not have to think about it again for a very long time.

2009 was a HUGE year for me:

It started with the M’s visiting L and I in Melbourne. How lucky was I that my “extended family” spent New Years with me. There was even some superb photography to capture the night by C (who says a 4 year old can’t take an awesome picture).

For me the year was looking up at that point. I was working in a good job, living in a nice suburb, had plans underway to build a very nice house in that rather nice suburb on the nice block of land I’d paid a deposit on. I was also planning a wedding in New York City that was to be everything I had ever dreamed of – ie. Something super small where no one bothered me! (with a Mariana Hardwick dress!!!).

However the year that followed didn’t really live up to all the hopes I’d had for it.

In June I was cancelling a wedding (including calling the lovely women at Mariana Hardwick to tell them I no longer needed the gorgeous dress), I was contacting people in New York to let them know I’d wasted their time, I was calling a builder to tell them I no longer needed the gorgeous house they were planning to build for me – the one with the lovely carpet and walk in wardrobe, I was calling a solicitor to figure out how to transfer a piece of land into my ex’s name so he could buy me out of it. I was resigning from my job and was overwhelmed by the support and kindness I received from my employer and colleagues. I was packing up half a house and organising removals to come and put my life on a container on a train to take it back to Brisbane.

At the end of June I was driving from Melbourne to Brisbane with my beloved mother (the woman who seems to have to come to me rescue regularly – after almost 30 years she still has to look after me – that’s a warning to anyone thinking having children is easy! It’s a lifetime job! Ask M B!). Some might remember that the drive took a rather “wrong turn” in Canberra thanks to the stupid Navi-B#$%h! I still hate that machine – I don’t care if Mum has changed it’s voice to a male – it evil!

Right at the end of June I was attending a birthday party of a friend from primary school who had kindly invited me along to make sure I was among friends when I returned home – that was the night I met C, who has turned out to be the housemate from heaven!

As soon as I got back I returned to my “MegaJam Family”. L, the big brother figure who I have known since I was 12 and a half, who is always ready with a fun and exciting dance routine for me to attempt to perform. L’s J (there’s two J’s) is the person with the kindest eyes on the planet – when she laughs she can light up a room. C is the woman I want to be…. If I ever manage to grow up! J and T are the friends who are always there for a chat, some cuddles and a perv (“Hey look there’s Kelly Slater”). And then there’s B… she’s another angel in human form. The first thing B said to me when she heard I was coming home was “Wanna go to Britney?”. B is the most loving and kind friend and someone who made coming home so much better!

In July I was sleeping on a blow up mattress on the study floor of my parent’s apartment in a retirement village….. oops sorry mum, non assisted accommodation! I had begun the job hunt that would span the next 3 months and involve a rather interesting first day at work…. it could only happen to me.

In the middle of September I was on a plane to New York – via London (oh the blessed frequent flyer system). In New York for 3 nights I stayed in an apartment in the East Village next door to the Hells Angels Bikie Gang (lovely chaps – just don’t touch their bikes!). I caught up with my beautiful friends E and B. We went to central park and saw where my wedding was meant to be and gave a little “F You” finger to the unjust world of relationships. We then headed to Macy’s and any feelings of sorrow were quickly drowned by their abundant shoe department.

I spent a further week and a bit in Brooklyn with J (an angel in disguise as an auditor). Jaime and I had spent a few weeks together in 2002 when she came on a work secondment to Australia, and yet she took me in and let me stay with her, she offered her couch for me to sleep on, her dogs for me to hug and her kindness to make my trip to New York the best ever. I got to meet J’s family and friends and was so grateful for their kindness and friendship.

I then got to go to a kickboxing class with J and get worked to exhaustion by her extremely gorgeous kickboxing teacher, who is actually one of the nicest people on the planet and to this day sends words of encouragement and friendship.

In October I started working at TWM, a job that has so far tested me and challenged me and really ticked me off at times! However, I’ve once again found an angel, in my boss, who is kind enough to share her wisdom with me and teach me all that she knows.

Somewhere in late October I moved to “Casa del Catronica” with the lovely C. It was such a relief to move away from the evil Princesses. C and I co-exist in peace and harmony with many candles, incense sticks and the tiniest fridge!

In November I started back at kickboxing…. After 12 years away. My Kru (teacher in Thai) had not forgotten me and I was welcomed back into the White Fury Family with open arms. I’m not sure I am any fitter for the past 2 months of training, but I’d had some amazing bruises!

In December I encountered the nightmare at work that is a corrupt accounting system – this one little accounting package has caused me sleepless nights, a broken heart and has taken my list of swear words to a whole new level! November month end was like Ground Hog day – we had to do it 4 times to get it right!

At Christmas I got to spend the day with my extended family – how beautiful to end the year the way it started – with the M's! This year I got to watch my two blue-eyed angels grow up just a little more. M successfully performed a backflip at her dance concert – to which I screamed (much to the disgust of other concert viewers). C continued to grow and get even more beautiful and will attend prep next year.

So here I am on the 31^st of December…. What a year 2009 was. Overall it was fun. I got to have some rather unique experiences and meet some incredible people. But most of all I figured out just how strong I am. I’m strong enough to pass a Post Grad Psychology exam 2 days after cancelling an engagement – that’s something to be proud of!

I can’t help but wonder what 2010 will bring…..

Love to you all for a wonderful 2010!

Verity

Rules of Internet Flirtation‏

2010-03-01T02:12:00.000-08:00

Hi all

Yesterday I heard of an unfortunate tale from my friend C where she’d hit herself with a trolley. As I was listening to the tale I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked my lucky stars that no such thing had happened to me for quite a while.

That was my number one mistake…… I tempted fate!

After dance class I went home and logged on to my computer. I was hoping that the nice chappy (hereon in referred to as “chappy”) that I have had a few dates with was online so I could have a chat to him. I logged on to Skype and saw that he was on and sent him a message to say hello. I also sent a message to my friend in Melbourne to say hi and see how she was.

I then got distracted on facebook and forgot about messaging….mistake number two.

A message on skype popped up that said “Hi Gorgeous”….

Wow, I thought! I’ve only seen chappy four times, he must be quite keen. So I asked what he’d been up to and he mentioned he’d just eaten some lovely mango sorbet ice-cream. Hmmmmm, I thought…. Maybe I should flirt a little…..

(For those who know me well, I’ve never been a successful flirt – NEVER! Therefore I am not quite sure what in God’s name possessed me to think that I should try it with a guy that I quite like).

Anyway, bolstered by the “gorgeous comment” I commenced a somewhat spectacularly flirtations dialogue. Some of my best writing (instant messaging) ever!

I was halfway through suggesting that I head over there to share some mango sorbet….. hint hint…..

When he said “Oh and by the way, thanks for the Christmas Card”

Christmas card? What Christmas Card I thought? I’ve only seen him a few times so there was no Christmas card sent.

It was then with a sense of horror that I looked more closely at the name of the person I was chatting with…….. “I”

Oh my God, I’d just spent the last 15 mins flirting with my best friend on the net. And the cow hadn’t even said anything – she’d basically just egged me on!

I nearly died as I had to won up to her that I am not normally such a hussy when talking to my friends.

She obviously found it hilarious. I can just picture her there in her little house in St Kilda wetting herself laughing at the thought of me trying to be flirtatious!

So that’s it! I’ve learnt my lesson! I am never to flirt over the internet EVER AGAIN!!!!!!!

(and should I chance to disobey that order – “I MUST FIRST ENSURE THE PERSON I AM FLIRTING WITH IS NOT MY BEST FRIEND”).

No wonder I was hearing all the correct responses. I was starting to get quite excited and thought that chappy and I had a real connection.

Merry Christmas all – and remember – no matter how bad your day is going…. I’ll no doubt be having a worse one!

Love Verity

Coffee drinking - it's an art form

2010-03-01T02:08:00.000-08:00

Hi all

It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent story to tell. But I managed to have a brilliant little mishap yesterday that is worth sharing.

Mondays are my worst day at work – that’s a given, but yesterday I was super tired because I’d had a rather hectic weekend (read cleaned the house, did my washing, did my ironing and caught up with friends – that’s hectic for me) so I was more tired and dopey than usual.

As always I had my first coffee of the day the minute I had put my bags down at my desk. It’s like a ritual – don’t talk to me before that first coffee or you’ll get nothing but nonsense.

However, yesterday I found I had my first coffee and STILL couldn’t think straight! I contemplated a nasty letter to Nescafe to demand they add more caffeine to their products. But not being able to think straight I couldn’t really formulate any decent sentences in my head and gave up.

I decided stronger coffee is what was required!

We have a chappy in a van who comes around to each of our buildings in the area and comes to each floor and takes our coffee orders in the morning. I figured I might need one of his coffees.

My coffee arrived just before I had to go into a meeting with our new software support provider. I figured – “Better take the coffee with me – I make be required to talk sense!”

I’ve never really mastered drinking coffee out of the cups with the takeaway lids on them – normally I take the lid off.

I was presented with a dilemma – should I take the lid off and risk spilling my coffee as I walked to the meeting room OR should I leave the lid on and risk not being able to drink properly while in my meeting.

In the interest of maximizing my coffee intake I decided to leave the lid on the coffee and risk not being able to drink it properly in the meeting.

So I attended my meeting- this was at about 9.30am. I basically sculled the coffee and was rather proud of myself….. until it hit my bladder! I bolted out of the room. I’d had 2 large coffees and needed the bathroom quickly. Hehehe

How embarrassing.

I got back to the meeting and finished it off quickly and was now feeling quite alert. Brilliant – the day could commence!

At about 11.30am – after numerous trips to the bathroom and another coffee I managed to actually stop and look at myself in the bathroom mirror.

There on my shirt, located on my right boob was the largest coffee stain ever. What had gone wrong? How had I managed to spill coffee on myself. I sure didn’t notice it happen.

I came back to my office and asked J (one of our contractors) if she had seen how the stain occurred. J’s response was “Oh yeah, you spilled coffee down your top in that meeting. I thought you noticed! I didn’t think you needed to be told because you kept going back to the bathroom”.

I was mortified. I’d spent half the day racing around the office like a mad hen with a hug coffee stain on my chest – a Mad “Coffee Spilling” Hen!

How did I not feel the coffee on myself? How did I not notice the stain in my many trips to the bathroom?

Although frankly – I was focused on other things when visiting the bathroom – coffee goes right through me.

I tried to get the stain out but then ended up with a far larger wet patch on my chest. So I did the girlie thing and stood with my shirt half open exposing myself under the hand dryer in the bathroom.

I successfully dried my shirt – but the stain remained. It must have been brilliant coffee! Such a stain and so much caffeine.

What I have learnt from this episode is that I have two options when drinking coffee from now on:

Remove the stupid travel lid thingo before drinking, or
Wear a bib!

Have a great day

Love Verity

Not Quite Britney

2010-02-26T16:25:00.000-08:00

Hi all

A funny little story from last night’s dance class.

Since Britney is here on tour our routine was to Womaniser. Deep down I always dread the “girly” routines because despite all my efforts – I just can’t look sexy.

But I’ve been excited about learning this routine since going to the Britney concert because I figure that she didn’t do all that much on stage and surely I could be more convincing that her.

At class last night I set the goal for my friend G to look more girly than me – cos I am such a Tomboy that it surely wouldn’t be hard for him. Hehehe

I’ve since realised that trying to look sexy seems to result in injuries. I have a good mind to send Britney an email on her fan site asking if she has experienced the types of injuries I have when she’s trying to look sexy.

Perhaps there should be a warning to all young girls – “Move your hips at your own risk”.

My first issue came when trying to “strut”. I put my shoulders back, stuck my chest out, poked my butt out and then proceeded to trip over my own feet resulting in a “semi-stumble” move that looked anything but sexy. I had a good laugh at myself and resolved to back off on the strutting a bit and focus on remaining upright.

My next issue came when I went to click my heels together in a cheeky girly way. Thinking back on it, I went at my heel click with a little too much gusto and managed to not click heels – but instead back ankle bones. It really killed and I hope it doesn’t result in a bruise. Ankle bruises are definitely NOT sexy!

My last issues was not realised until this morning when I went to sit in my car. My lower back is rather sore. I thought to myself “Hmmmm, what could have happened last night that would hurt my back? I slept well so it couldn’t of been that”. And then a little light turned on. Aha! The pain in my back is attributable to swing my hips in small circles in one part of the routine. I’m sure most people have seen these sorts of moves as demonstrated by Britney and done extremely well by Beyonce. Well mine doesn’t quite look like that. It looks like I am trying to draw small circles in the air with my butt. Hehehe

I wonder if Beyonce has to get her back put in regularly from all that hip swinging? Maybe she can recommend a masseuse.

So beware my friends – looking sexy takes more pain and effort that it’s worth in my opinion.

Love Verity

As Graceful as a Baby Elephant

2010-02-26T16:21:00.000-08:00

Hi all

Here’s the account of a brief incident that occurred today that made me laugh.

Work has been busy today, so I thought I would head outside for a bit at lunch to get some fresh air and also to grab a chocolate. I’m quite dressed up today as our Board meeting is on in the Board Room and there’s a chance I may have to meet up with some of the Board members so I figured I should dress up.

I went down in the lift and walked to the front of the building. I was taking note of the lovely weather and how it wasn’t too hot. I had been dreading the heat cos I am wearing a long sleeved shirt today. (it’s actually that cold in our office that long sleeved shirts are comfortable). I was breathing in the fresh air, reaching into my handbag for my sunnies and thinking to myself....

“I am looking good today, I am looking graceful and elegant, I am looking....... at the concrete on the ground!!!”

It seems my high heels had decided to stay on the second step on our building front steps while the rest of me had decided to head down the road. The result was the most hilarious trip, followed by a stumble, followed by almost face planting the ground, followed by almost falling in the garden”

Somehow I managed to recover myself without actually falling over.

I had a quick look around to make sure no one had seen and decided to head off down the street looking calm and collected. I breathed a sigh of relief that my stockings were still in tact.

But on the inside I was wetting myself laughing, I must have looked so ridiculous. Hehehe

So much for elegance and grace eh? I remember someone telling me I was like a baby elephant when I was a kid...... and now I know why.... just a clumsy stumbling thing (minus the prickly hair that baby elephants have, hehehe).

It’s put a smile on my face for the rest of the day, it would have made great viewing on candid camera.

Have a great day

Verity