Thursday, April 28, 2011

some things cannot be unread. Or unsaid. Particularly when you print screen them.

wait, aren't you confusing that with the "this is not consensual sex" talk?
 FFS. More things that make katey cry. People that post things that are clearly full of lose (and by lose, I mean shitarsebad parenting) on facebook, with that ever-so-obvious tone of pride in their horrendous failures.
Because really, confusing the "facts of life" talk with the "no means no" talk really does fall in to the category of parenting fails.

And this is from a person who talks to her children about...everything... just... with a substantial amount of mindfulness that their childlike brains often take things more literally than initially intended (you learn this lesson relatively quickly, fortunately). That being the case, talking about "periods and babies" is something that can happen gradually, building on knowledge so that they're not completely overwhelmed with one hideous (and let's face it, mutually embarrassing and awkward) talk.

Or, you know, you can follow her advice.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

I for one hope you learn to spell by tomorrow

strong advice, Shandell. Although I don't think that's going to help the spelling.

So I really hate myself for doing this, because I can't stand being a facebook spelling snob, but...fuck it. I am.

When you spell 'better' as 'beta' and 'by' as 'buy', I think that recovering from a mild viral illness is the least of your worries. More to the point, when you have friends who are similarly predisposed to poor spelling (I'm  making huge assumptions from the name, but I don't fucking care) then I think that...yes, that virus really isn't that bad.

So, muchos apologies for my hideous judgemental bitchiness, but for the love of all that is holy, learn to freaking spell, people. Because poor spelling makes katey cry.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Sometimes if I think too hard about something, I completely forget what it is

The same thing generally happens with blogging. Case in point, this.

I was told off for not updating my blog recently, by one of the ... oh, two people that read it (not including you, Mum). And really, I have no particular reason for doing so, except that I tend to find that if I really focus on being hilariously interesting, then I fail.


Added to that, PhDing takes up an inordinate amount of my time as I hone my (already highly developed) skills at looking-terribly-busy-while-not-actually-doing-much. I have also been concentrating-very-hard on not eating a metric shitload of chocolate, and doing lots of boring rugby-related things. And other stuff, probably, but I am far too absent minded to remember what this is.

So instead, here is  a picture of Skeletor with a unicorn My Litttle Pony:

proof that skeletor loves ponies from here

And what I imagine his reaction would have been at the prospect of giving Rainbow Dash a new hairdo:


Because when my brain stops functioning normally, this is what I revert to.

Monday, April 4, 2011

stupid food

from here

No bloody wonder I lost my appetite.

There was a cock in the noodles.

Or the noodles were cock flavoured.

Or the cock soup was really... noodly.

Friday, April 1, 2011

kiss me kate

from this super blog about vintage fashion
So, fuck it. I know I'm mixing my metaphors, mashing my cultural references and such like, but I'm fairly sure I don't fucking care.

I just love Katharine Hepburn.

Such an aggressively individual woman; Hepburn grew up within a suffragist household where she was exposed to the kind of forthright frankness that she later became known for ... and that I admire her so greatly for. In a time when women were still expected to be demure, precious little petals, she was everything but that.

Hepburn was also outspoken regarding religion, which she believed was "a sop for the masses".

"I'm an atheist and that's it. I believe there's nothing we can know except that we should be kind to each other and do what we can for other people" (from here)

I know it's a joke but...

via my mate Oli
knowing people that would embrace something such as this is an even bigger joke.

You know the type.

The kind that refer to their dogs as their children, and themselves as their parents. Fairly sure I can't leave my fucking kids outside while I go out for a night on the booze, however, and I'm quite sure that my children can communicate with words, eat with utensils and don't lick their own arseholes.

But, you know, each unto their own...weirdos.