wog in a box

I was driving down torrens road the other day when I saw a shop called 'wog in a box'.. dunno if that sounds very tasty

In other news...

Every year I have to attend first aid recertification and every year it makes me realise how much I'm screwed if I ever actually need first aid by another member of the public. There were 15 people in the class and I think probably 2 that i would want around if i was lying in public dying somewhere.

There was another participant there with exactly the same name and spelling as me which was weird and disturbing. Apparently she was named after some famous actress, but she couldn't remember her namesake's surname nor any movies that she had starred in... yup, it was going to be a long day..

Note that this is REcertification meaning that everyone in the class has already done the 2 day senior first aid course at least once.

We started with burns. If im burnt, Barb says she is going to cover me with a paste of baking soda mixed with a little water, actually she also says this is what she will do if she finds me suffering from a bee sting or spider bite

and Lisa is going to put essential lavender oil on my burn... she's actually made up her own first aid kit because the St Johns ones seem to be missing many of the 'essential' items that first aid requires

Barry on the other hand has learnt his lesson with home remedies, after he got his brother to try to put his dislocated finger back into place around five times too many, resulting in his middle finger being broken in 3 places and so deformed that he cant even use it to tell his brother where to go anymore..

good times.

becoming mean and bitter

Whilst at breakfast at my sister and nics last week I realised I’m turning into a mean and bitter person. I watched them cook my parents and I breakfast in their cupboard kitchen together and there wasn’t even one harsh word or annoyed look given. It was very pleasant. So since then I have tried to start a ‘be nicer’ revolution at home where I try to be nicer to J and try to get him to be nicer to me. I’m not sure if it is working really, but he hasn’t taken my wet clothes of the clothes rack to make way for his wet clothes since.

However just now in my open plan office, I purposefully paused a video I’m working on at a particularly gruesome point where a drill is being applied to a tooth so that my co-workers would be grossed out if they looked up while I went and ran some errands. I didn’t even realise I was doing it until I got back, it just came naturally. I think it might be time to think about moving on cause I dunno if a ‘be nicer’ revolution is going to be possible here.