Delectably Detrimental Delights and Peregrination by Proxy

Today I am a green-eyed peanut. Since I returned from my Seattle Soiree the travel I have managed to undertake has been utterly and completely by proxy (or vivid imagination) through my uni course. 

Brochures depicting young and gorgeous people enthusiastically jumping off boats on the Amalfi Coast, couples clinking glasses on exquisite train journeys across Europe, intrepid explorers taking silly photos with monuments and statues in far off, seldom trod corners of this big, wide world. *sigh* and travel messages containing tantalizingly few details of police encounters, boat trips full of beer and bravado and blissful kisses from the European sun. *fumes* *grins* *crinkles up nose and narrows eyes in playful jealousy*

My adventures have been of the home and university variety of late. Several accounts are to follow:

Yesterday I arrived home after a day distinctly akin in pressured finite timings to an episode of "24" and felt an overpowering need to bake something sugary with a high chocolate content and dates, always dates. 

Once I changed into my Joe Boxer track pants *shudder of fleecy warmth* and Uggs *after-shudder* I consulted the shelves of my half of the pantry. Flour..white sugar..brown sugar...baking powder..salt...umm, DATES! Then I took a peek in the fridge - eggs..and milk! Eeexcellent! And a block of Hershey's 70% extra dark chocolate hand carried from Los Estados Unidos (from whence all fructose-laden goodness cometh).

Expertly creaming the butter and sugar together then adding the eggs, milk and dry ingredients I tossed in an exorbitant amount of dates and chocolate chunks and whacked them in the oven. 

I like my cookies slightly crispy on the outside and nice and gooey on the inside so when you bite into a particularly large chocolate chunk it oozes out of its home nestled in the cookie and inevitably ends up on your shirt/tie/necklace. 

The edges slightly browned after 12 or so minutes on 150 Celsius and I extracted the tray of morsels from the oven and placed them on the stove. The entire house filled with the aroma of freshly baked delicacy and my flatmate magically appeared with eyes like saucers, licking her chops like Sylvester eyeing Tweety Bird, turning him in one image frame from canary to cutlet. 

She has now termed them (with a note written in pink capital letters with highlighter) the "COOKIES OF DOOM (because they're so f*ing lush!)" and neither of us can stop munching on them. Ahh well, at least we live in the House of Metabolism! Redheads do it better you know..

*bites into warm cookie* 

Next - Huzzar for moi! I overcame my Bakers Delight Scone Sampling phobia today! As I walk from the disembarkation point of my first bus I past a number of shops, one of which is Baker's Delight (hence the scone addiction). Normally I wander past, gaze lovingly at the carby, sugary goodness adorning the shelves, wait for an influx of customers and snake a long arm between them to pinch one (read: several) slices of the free-to-good-home scone in the little plastic sample tub on the counter. 

Today there were no customers. It was also raining. And freezing cold. 

"Bugger this rubbish!" I thought to myself, "I'm a human, I have rights to free food!" I psyched myself and, taking a deep breath, entered the little shop. 

"Hi! How can I help you?" said the pre-teen behind the counter, seeing a sale meandering through the glass doors.

"Uh..I'd like a.." I pretended to scan the glass cabinets, "..umm... ok. Look. I'd-really-just-like-to-try-some-scone.-Seriously-I-buy-them-all-the-time-and-I'm-completely-addicted-and-they're-really-really-bloody-good-but-I-have-a-bunch-at-home-and-I don't-need-to-buy-an-more-but-I'd-really-like-to-try-some-is-that-cool??" I admitted with lightning fast speech in her general direction, avoiding eye contact.

To my distinct pleasure she laughed, openly, and said "of COURSE! We do it all the time!"

It was as though an enormous weight was lifted from my part-Jewish conscience and I happily tonged 2 slices of the little baked good into my hand, waved a goodbye to the girls, who were still laughing and merrily made my freezing cold way to the bus stop. Once more - HUZZAR!!

In other news my 16 day adventure tour brochure to Iceland has been printed (after a substantial cookie donation to the people at Kwik Kopy Darling Harbour garnered a large discount) and looks incredible. Someday I want to go diving, skiing, dog sledding, horseback riding, whitewater rafting and lounging in the Blue Lagoon. *shakes fist* "with God as my witness..!"

Last minute I aced yet another 2 exams this afternoon and rewarded myself with end-of-day rice paper rolls.

I passed my dive medical with a lovely aviation doctor in the city yesterday. We had a grand time pinching, prodding and concluding that despite a lower-than-recommended BMI (read: BS) rating I have incredibly good lungs (all the better for yelling at you with, my dear), hearing (for tuning out when you yell back, my dear) and balance (for..well I don't know..balancing I suppose!). 

I actually had a great time and ate far too many blue jellybeans and promised to send the doctor a postcard from my first diving holiday, hopefully not too far away now..!

Tomorrow night is "Diving 101" with this weekend spent submerging in a pool remembering to ALWAYS BREATHE and learning how to empty water from my mask. 

I'm really looking forward to it, breathing underwater has always been a dream of mine.

I shall leave you there, fine readers, until more adventures have I to rehash.

Peculiar Pets and Printing Prats

World, meet Arb --> 

Arb is "A Random Bug" (I intend to claim credit for the amusing Three Letter Abbreviation's reiteration in his name however I have only just happened upon this realization) or an "ARBitrary" (apparently this is the English slang for "arbitrary" if you hadn't already grasped that parallel - thanks Amy) bug who winged his way into our new house (and hearts) sometime in the past week and, starved for non-human house guests we named him (Amy wanted to call him "George", I think "Arb" is at least 200% cooler), he is now a member of the family. 

Arb resides at a spot of his selection on the walls, ceiling or cabinet fronts in our house. We have no idea what type of bug he is since there are nearly as many bugs in Sydney as calories in Willy Wonka's factory but I think he is a "damselfly" (yes, a macho, manly, tough one of those..although he may be a girl I guess). 

We have no idea what or how to feed him but hope he hangs around a while. "Where's Arb?" is a game played by the second housemate to awaken as the first will have inevitably already engaged in "Find Arb". 

Any light all you aspiring entomologists out there can shed on the scientific classification of our little pet would be greatly appreciated. All greetings and well wishes will be passed on of course from those who, like us, have no clue what Arb is or where he came from.

The other stand-out happening of an all-in-all quite normal Tuesday was the unwarrantably pretentious and altogether blood-boiling treatment I received by the "Filth" (that's my personal collective noun for "heinously rude men of Lebanese descent") at the printing place around the corner from my uni today. Just the reminiscence of them makes me unfathomably enraged and altogether "chik chik boom"-ish. 

I needed to print a handout carefully constructed to perfectly fit an A4 sheet of paper, double-sided and in vivid colour for a presentation I'll be making tomorrow. The collage and fact sheet are gorgeous and deserved a fine laser print on silk gloss paper, perhaps 170gsm. 

On recommendation from a teacher I entered the Snap Printing store on the corner of Harris St and Broadway in Ultimo and was greeted after approximately 20 minutes (the store is the size of the interior of a Hyundai Getz, I was ignored) with a "yea?" by the brute behind the counter.

I explained that the file I desired to transfer from soft to hard copy was currently on my laptop *gesture to bag* and that it was in a Mac format. I informed that I could output this file into PDF if that were easier but that it was very important that it look excellent.

Rudely shoved (physically) into a corner and told "use that, there" with an uncouth hand gesture to a line of archaic computers faceted into the back wall with old chewing gum I sputtered that I had no idea what "that" was, nor "how to use it" "there". 

Several minutes later a young man with an horrendous body odour and an even more hideous manner slid up next to me, far too close for comfort - olfactory or otherwise. 

"What's up honey?" The..person enquired in a drawled accent akin to the sound a drunk person makes just before they vomit.

I suppressed a cringe (read: full body convulsive shudder of disgust) and explained my predicament to him. 

"Nah, can't. Youshudusephotoghop eh" he spat

"Excuse me?" I replied

"I dunnobout macsnshit. Push print eh, it'llbe hectic *laugh*" 

I truly and fervently wanted to kick it in the non-existent boy bits and run gleefully down the road where I would inevitably be sick in the first rubbish bin which presented itself. Instead I attempted to breathe (not too deep, his smell was still permeating my immediate oxygen supply) and said, "alright, just print this. You screw it up I'm not paying for it."

I assumed the boy (read: thing) would be taken aback by the forward attitude of this small Caucasian girl with bright red hair and understatedly breathtaking jewelry but no such luck. He returned some crack that he would just say it was my document that was "assed" and I chose to ignore him.

Eventually the thing printed (on A3, inevitably twice the price) but it looked beautiful. I was informed by "it" that cutting the four excess sides from the A4 sized picture in the middle would cost me an extra $1 per cut. I laughed openly and in his face, said "no freakin way!" slammed my card down on the counter and said "on savings". I think he took a sick sort of pleasure in replying that I couldn't put $9.80 on a card - the limit was $10. I was awestruck. Completely aghast at the utter incompetence and sheer useless existence of every male in my current vicinity. I pointed at the $.60 blank CD's and muttered "for f*ck's sake..!" He got my gist and swiped the card. A moment later he said "I gotta go it again". 

I'd had about 5 times too much of this so I made him print me out a receipt stating that my card had definitely NOT been charged twice (I would have made him sign in fresh blood that this were the case if it were the middle ages), put my document and CD in an envelope, grabbed my receipt and headed for the door. 

Ballsy as always when I reached the door I opened it slightly, turned around and said, "thanks you f*cking pricks." and walked out promptly, leaving the door open and the icy wind swirling all the papers on the counter. Hopefully my Wicked Witch of the West-esque exit left them squealing around for hours like pigs in slops picking up all their rubbish.

*fumes* *growls* *smoke billows from ears*

"GRRRRRRRRRRRR!!"

I will be going to the print shop up the road next time, and every time, for the rest of time. I hope everyone I know will follow.