Thoughts from the Janitor's Cupboard

Remember me?

2009-03-05T22:43:00.000-08:00

Talk about neglected! Over a year since I last posted. I sort of lost the urge to blog here after losing interest in Steve. I came across this blog again today in a link from my Psychobabble blog.
I'm thinking I might resurrect it. I still love my alter-ego as 'The Cleaning Wo-man'.

Good intentions and all that? Watch this space.

The Money Pit

2007-12-07T17:31:00.001-08:00

It's been a while.

Since that last post, sold the house, moved into the new one only to find the previous owner's bank had taken possession and we were about to get evicted. Finally, got legal possession ourselves. Between our original offer and the time the house became ours, we discovered the garden had gone to pot, sheds and other landscaping items that should have remained with the house disappeared and additional, unwanted items (think car parts, broken aquariums etc etc) appeared. In addition, with the removal of all the furnishings from the house, the true state of affairs was revealed. Ad. said 'newly renovated'. *hysterical laughter*

So. Currently in a state of frantic stripping up carpet, sanding floors, painting and a million other renovation jobs. Maybe I should rename myself TheDIYwoman?

TheHypocriticalWoman

2007-05-01T22:48:00.000-07:00

I've earnt my name over the past week. Anything that can be washed down/scrubbed/polished has been. Every morning I strip off our current bedding and put on 'posh' bedding that no one has ever been allowed to breathe on yet alone use. Scatter a few wellplaced designer pillows...put out a basket of luxurious flannels/towels/spa treatments on the vanities in the bathroom...you get my drift.

Who the hell actually lives like that? Yet it's not just me. Virtually every house I've looked at in the past few weeks has done exactly the same. Some with more finesse than others. After all, a scuffed plastic bowl stuffed full of soaps and shampoos knocked off from various hotels doesn't quite work.

I hate this whole house selling/house buying venture. The whole hypocrisy of the exercise. I go into houses, homes to someone, and nitpick them to bits...'stairs too narrow', 'dark and dingy', 'something died in here....'....yet get woefully upset at the thought that someone might be saying something similar about my home. After all, it's nothing less than perfect. Ha. We all know it's about getting the price down. Mostly.

So far we've had little interest which is depressing. The location is a little bit of a tough sell possibly (near 'village' shops) but, hell, we're not on a motorway or something. In the meantime, I keep falling in love with houses only to get them snapped out from underneath me.

I was going to post a link here (it's on the internet) in case Moneybags McKay fancied a nice weekender downunder but then I realised it would give my address away and, within a week, I'd probably have the entire crew from Steve Martin.com camped out on my front lawn. Maybe not.

And PS. I really hate most real estate agents.

Still here...

2007-04-16T17:24:00.000-07:00

Ah, yes, Thoughts from the Janitor's Cupboard. I knew I'd been neglecting something. Truth is, I'm not sure what to do with this blog...to can it or not to can it?

Been so busy. Have really been TheCleaningWoman of late. Getting ready to sell the house and so all those jobs that have been meant to be done in the past five years have suddenly got done in the past five weeks. So now it's probably more appropriate to call me TheWellandTrulyKnackeredWoman. Should have called in my good mate, McKay. She seems truly handy with a paint brush.

In other news, for those other frequent fliers of Steve Martin.com, Spot Spot the Ocelot tied the knot recently and is about 8 weeks away from the arrival of Dot Dot the Baby Ocelot. During her pregnancy, I've managed to lose kilos and sneakily stick them on her backside. Heh heh.

Valentine Cheapskate

2007-02-13T15:29:00.000-08:00

Not that I'm cheap or anything......

Happy Valentine's Day, Janitor dear.

Why send a card when you can blog? Muahahahahahhahaa

That sinking feeling.....

2007-01-27T17:40:00.000-08:00

There's a million jokes about the Brits and their reluctance to wash. So I'm posting my personal excuse here, right?

2007

2007-01-01T15:42:00.000-08:00

A slack rubber chicken is no sight for sore eyes, believe me. That's me though. Here it is, January 2nd 2007, and I haven't even posted a Happy New Year to the handful of readers of this blog. Handful? Who am I kidding? Okay, to McKay, Sookey, El Cameleon.

Three is a crowd so they say. A crowd!

This photo represents New Year Sydney style. In true Bah Humbug style, I have to say I am so over fireworks. Every year, millions of dollars get spent on the NYE spectacular. I just feel it could be money better spent elsewhere, although many would disagree.

The thing that really bugged me this year relates to the celebration as a family affair. There's a nine pm firework showing for the kids and then a later midnight effort. Understandable that they keep the best for midnight but I have to say that the showing for the kiddies this year was rather pathetic. A torturous trip because of road closures, packed like sardines into trains, for a showing that lasted less than 10 minutes and had nothing really special at all. Most families won't stay around until midnight because little ones just can't hold out that long.

Babycleaningwoman was pretty disappointed on the whole. The midnight showing was better and I admit it does look spectacular on television. Maybe I've just had too much of a good thing.

Next year we'll do something different for New Year. Maybe it won't even be in Sydney. Always hoping.

Anyway, Happy New Year everyone. Hope all your dreams come true in 2007.

2006-12-21T18:39:00.000-08:00

Well, it's nearly Christmas.

Presents are bought and wrapped, one already rejected without even being unwrapped (is that some kind of record?), food plans are in preparation. I will try my best not to repeat my earlier flambe high chair fare (when I accidentally set fire to food tray - NOT with baby in situ I hasten to add).

I have the mandatory dose of the germ of the week that The BabyCleaningWoman kindly brought home from petri dish we know as school.

The piano is getting tortured on a regular basis. Any recognition of anything carol like is most likely to be delusional on my part.

So, everything is on track. Just time to wish you all a happy holiday, whatever you choose to celebrate or not celebrate.

Oh, and the mistletoe is just a little insurance on my part.

Just in case Steve Martin, John Malkovich, Rob Morrow, Gedeon Burkhard or any of the usual suspects happens to drop by. The Janitor wouldn't begrudge me a small Christmas peck, surely?

Liberace Woman

2006-12-12T13:12:00.000-08:00

Now I have so much spare time on my hands, I've decided to take the plunge and do something I've always wanted to do. Piano.

Yes, I've fallen victim to the furs, the frou-frou and the candelabra. I am turning into Liberace woman.

I have a rather chequered musical history. Trombone, mercifully shortlived. Flute, equally painful, unfortunately the torture lasted longer.

The piano arrived yesterday. *cracking knuckles*

In the interests of protecting the public, please apply to the following for your free set of industrial strength earplugs:

TheCleaningWoman

Cleaning Closet Under the Stairs

Opera House

Sydney

And please feel free to include parcels of diamante, fur, feather boas and candelabras.

PS And Spot? The g-string on the piano is an entirely different concept so I'll pass on the offer, thanks.

SMALLIES confront Steve

2006-11-28T16:26:00.000-08:00

With the news that Steve Martin is closing down his website, several disgruntled members of the board, aka SMALLIES, remonstrate with Steve.

With their back to the camera to protect their anonymity, you can't help but admire their bare-faced cheek at taking on the big guy. I can't see him getting out of the water with his trunks on after he dared to suggest Adam Sandler's site.

Good job Sookey, McKay and Bronze Babe. Whoops. So much for anonymity.

Sayonara, Steve, it's been a lot of fun.

Colour Me Malkovich

2006-11-26T00:10:00.000-08:00

A quiet weekend. Now the study is all over, it's great to catch up with reading for pleasure, listening to music and watching movies I've had on hold for some time.

If you haven't seen Colour Me Kubrick, I highly recommend it.

It's true, Malkovich can't put a foot wrong where I'm concerned, but even The Janitor enjoyed it...a total surprise given Cruise and Schwarzenegger is much more his style.

I might have to whisper in Santa's ear for a copy.

Ocelot explosion!

2006-11-18T12:49:00.000-08:00

Order those 0000 pink g-strings now.

Our dear friend Spot Spot is expecting a baby girl ocelot! Hoorah!!!!!

You heard it here first, folks!

I have to say when I read Sookey's earlier comment about the baby ocelots at Portland Zoo, I thought she might have channelled the truth. Spooky Sookey!

Very hard not to have said anything then but I'd promised the Ocelot that I would zip it until she reached second trimester.

Any longer and I would have bust.

Dolling it out to Barbie

2006-11-06T17:19:00.000-08:00

Barbie and Ken just too squeaky clean for your kids?

Then let me introduce you to Jerwayne Jr and Trash Talkin' Turleen. Jerwayne Jr. comes complete with mullet and missing teeth. Trash Talkin' Turleen is pregnant, smokes and hollers "Pour me a double, I'm drinking fer two."

Available from Trailer Trash Doll.

Don't get crushed in the rush.

Secrets

2006-11-01T02:35:00.000-08:00

I don't normally crosspost but I thought you might find this site interesting, if you haven't discovered it already that is! Read about Post Secret here.

Here's to the present

2006-10-31T20:59:00.000-08:00

I'm done. It's all over.

I never want to see that thesis again. Let me bury it in some dark corner of the room and forget about it.

*SIGH*

So, I think it's appropriate to celebrate with friends and I'm feeling pretty darned generous right now.

The moon for Asha? The porsche for McKay's midlife crisis (when she's ready for one....)? Diamond head jewellery for Sookey? A gorilla for Tiptoe?

Oh, and I guess while I'm shopping, I might as well get us all one of those never-emptying ATM machines.

Yes, name what you will my friends. Money is no object.Particularly when you shop at Virtual Presents, the delight of all cheapskates everywhere.

Must keep this quiet from The Janitor or we know where he'll be doing his Christmas shopping.

Al fresco

2006-10-29T22:22:00.002-08:00

In terms of gradual exposure therapy for acrophobics, I'd say this one is right off the scale!

At Dinner in the Sky in Belgium, 22 guests are seat-belted (phew!) into chairs that are connected to a dining table while a crane hoists them up to 50m. Chefs and waiters then present the meal from a pit in the middle of the table. The session can last for 8 hours.

Somehow I just lost my appetite...

Neglect

2006-10-19T01:20:00.000-07:00

4 working days to thesis due date. I think that about sums it up.

Am I finished? Hah. Am I nearly finished? Snicker.

Am I running around like a headless rubber chicken? BIG CHECK.

I'll be back soon. Please stop by again.

Painting the town red

2006-10-08T00:24:00.000-07:00

Painting the town red.

That's my pathetic attempt to make my life seem exciting. I'm not fooling anybody, least of all myself.

In a brief break from the thesis (two more weeks and it's all over!!) and what am I doing? Out for a nice dinner? A decent movie? A Vichy shower and hot stone massage perhaps?

Nope. Nope and nope. I am painting a bedroom. From massaging pages of dreary text to watching paint dry.

Can life get any better?

I'm no Michelangelo either. When it come to painting style, think more of Jackson Pollack because paint tends to get sprayed and flicked in all directions.

Hey, maybe I should do that a little more. Might convince The Janitor that getting someone in to do this stuff makes a lot more sense, particularly as he himself is noticeable by his absence. Apparently, I do this stuff so much better.

Right.

I'll pass, thanks

2006-09-24T01:19:00.000-07:00

I got sent this today. Somehow I don't think I'll be changing my regular brand.

Code red

2006-09-23T01:43:00.000-07:00

So. I took a day out yesterday to attend Baby Cleaningwoman's sports day.

Endulge me in a small brag, please.

BCW came first in her heat and performed none too shabbily in the final.

*beaming grin*

Now, for the offspring of The Janitor, whose idea of physical fitness is 10 pushes of the remote control button, and TCW, whose own athletic prowess relates to how quick she can unwrap a bar of chocolate, this is both impressive and puzzling. In fact, we're thinking about DNA testing.

Unfortunately for yours truly, a focus on the 100m heat made me completely think about the other kind of heat. Yesterday was a scorcher and that English roses complexion has morphed into Angry Lobster. Very exotic, I think not.

One word. OUCH.

There'll be no 'sporting activity' in this household for a while.

Calamine lotion anyone?

Head down, bum up

2006-09-16T22:04:00.000-07:00

Yep, thesis crunch time.

Up for air again soon.

Remembering Paul Robert Eckna

2006-09-05T02:59:00.000-07:00

In memory of Paul Robert Eckna
Aged 28, of West New York, New Jersey

Five years ago, on September 11th, Paul Robert Eckna began his day as an International Equities Trader with Cantor Fitzgerald in the World Trade Center, Tower 1.

People were going about their business at the start of another working day. Here, in Australia, most of us were heading to bed. All of us unaware of how the world was about to change. For all of us, September 11th changed the way we perceived our world; for some, the change was on an intensely personal scale as loved family and friends were prematurely taken away.

On September 11th, Cantor Fitzgerald lost 658 employees, more than 60 percent of the company’s entire work force.

Today, as part of the 2,996 project, I join together with fellow bloggers worldwide to remember the 2,996 precious souls lost on September 11th. For those of us fortunate enough to have been spared the loss of a loved one on this day, by participating in this project, let us strengthen our resolve to never forget the events of this day. Let these individuals be strangers to us no more, let us hold them in our hearts forever.

Let me tell you a little about Paul.

Born and raised in Garden City, New York, Paul was the son of Carol and Stanley Eckna and youngest brother of Richard and Stephen. Since September 11th 2001, he has become a beloved uncle to Caitlin Leigh and Christopher William.

Paul was a sports enthusiast and had a particular affinity for football. He played for Garden City Trojans in position 77. Later, he played for the University of Nebraska at Lincoln.

Paul had an enthusiasm for life. He loved his work with Cantor Fitzgerald and enjoyed the challenges of his position as an International Equities Trader. Paul, at only 28, had so much promise and so much to live for. A loving family, a large circle of friends, a great job.

Reading about Paul, you learn so much about his personality - his warmth, his consideration for others. It's reflected in the beautiful photograph above.

"Paul Eckna was a very unique and special individual with many talents. I'm proud to say that we were friends, and it gives me a great deal of happiness to know that I had the opportunity to be his roommate while studying at the university."

Matthew Good, friend.

Family and friends were very important to Paul and, from the messages I have read online, it is apparent that the feelings were mutual.

"Paul always had a smile, a funny story, a hug to make you feel special, a glint in his eye that said he was there for you, an open heart and an open mind. Paul was special, he continues to remain special and will hold that place in our hearts and minds forever."

Noreen Loser M., Paul's aunt

Please take a minute of your time to think about Paul Robert Eckna and to pray for his family and friends.

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."

Kahlil Gibran

Paul Robert Eckna.

We will never forget.

Visit the 2, 996 project and remember the lives lost on September 11th, 2001.
Thank you.

Postscript 11/9/06.

Apparently, the 2,996 link is down due to traffic volume.
Please also remember Denis F. Lavelle.

Crikey!

2006-09-04T01:47:00.000-07:00

I am a confirmed ophidiophobic, arachnophobic and herpetophobic. Possessed of an intense fear of snakes, spiders and creepy crawlies in general...and, yes, I moved from the relatively benign UK to Australia. Hmm.

I don't even like to watch these types of creatures on television but, nonetheless, I was often mesmorised by the antics of The Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin. You'd often find me watching his latest endeavours. Completely horrified yet unable to look away.

Today Steve Irwin was killed filming his latest documentary. The man who tackled some of the most dangerous and venemous creatures in the world was taken out by a relatively benign Stingray. A tragic and extremely uncommon event. Kind of bizarre when you think about some of the situations he placed himself in.

Steve Irwin loved what he did. Animals were a major part of his life. Perhaps it's fitting he died doing what he loved the most? Sadly, he was only 44 and leaves behind a young family.

Steve Irwin was a great ambassador for Australia. Thoughts and prayers are with his family and friends tonight.

Crikey, Steve, we'll miss you.

Yum, tryptophan!

2006-09-03T02:24:00.000-07:00

Okay. I can tell the darker mood scared off the only two people that ever read this blog!

Mood is much better. Must have been that kilo block of chocolate I ate this weekend. Okay, so kilo (2.2lbs) might be a slight exaggeration but you can't overemphasise the healing power of chocolate. If this is what's called self-medication, bring it on!

Father's Day here. The Janitor received some nice gifts, including the obligatory underwear. I made the mistake, a few years back now, of introducing him to Calvin Klein boxers when he used to wear Target cheapies. CKs are probably reasonably priced in the US but let's just say here, it's got to the stage where we lock up his spare undies in a security safe.

I should also point out that the fact he wears CKs doesn't mean he bears the slightest resemblence to Travis Fimmel. Unless he has a muffin top alter ego.

A pretty quiet week in all. Lots of work, final couple of weeks of thesis writeup and then it's all over. I'd be extremely happy about that but right now it's way too stressful to even think beyond tomorrow.

I always knew I was pretty pathetic at statistics. I'm thinking of regrading that to absolutely dire. So if anyone knows the alterego of SuperStatsMan, elbow him into the nearest 'phone box and tell him his butt is required over here, right now.

Current mood: ruminative

2006-08-28T17:05:00.000-07:00

The darker mood continues.

I believe, mostly, that a large part of it is related to the approach of 9/11.

On one hand, it's understandable how such a traumatic event could impact on anyone. Then again, I don't personally know anyone affected by the events that day. I'm not even American. So how does that work?

I grew up in the UK during a time where terrorism was simply a part of life. From that time, I'll never forget the innocent people enjoying a drink when blown up by the IRA in the Guildford and Birmingham pub bombings. Similarly, the Hyde Park and Regents Park bombings, where the Royal Green Jackets band were entertaining a summer audience with music from Oliver! when a bomb was detonated underneath them.

Terrorism was something you became a little blase about after a while. Life, after all, had to go on. And then September 11th happened.

All I know is that 9/11 shook me to the very core. I went to sleep on the 11th September 2001 and when I awoke on the 12th (time difference), the world had changed forever. In the five years that have passed, terrorism has again returned to London, has reared its head in Madrid, in Bali, in Turkey and other places.

I often find myself thinking about September 11th, with no apparent trigger. Around the time of the anniversary, I definitely become aware of it being on my mind more frequently.

It also starts me thinking about my own losses. A sister I sadly barely knew, a father I lost not once but twice and dearly loved, a stepfather who was pivotal in shaping my life.

It makes me think about wanting to hold those I love closer to me, as if I had the power to prevent them from being taken from me suddenly. Unrealistic, I know. More importantly, it reminds me to treasure each moment I have with a loved one for tomorrow is only hoped for, never a given.

Sculpture 'Unnecessary Loss' by Floyd Wanner.

Magritte Big Fat Blog

2006-08-26T00:07:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been over a week since my last blog.

I simply had nothing to blog about and I just don't know what to do with this blog. It's seeming a little silly to me and I'm thinking of discontinuing after I've met my commitment to the 2996 project.

I've been a little sick (thanks, McKay!), I should be flat out working (yeah, yeah... procrastination is going to be a key skill on my resume), there's a million things I should be doing but I just can't get myself moving.

Like the tree above, so beautifully painted by my favourite artist Rene Magritte, I feel immovable, anchored to the spot by deeply sunken roots.

Sigh. Whatever "it" is, I hope it soon passes.

My life in a suitcase

2006-08-18T23:07:00.000-07:00

An afternoon spent cleaning up a closet revealed this treasure.

*note the heavy tone of sarcasm*

This, my friends, is The Cleaning Woman in the 80s.

Yeah, yeah. You knew I was no spring chicken. Why else would I post pictures of Adam Ant on this blog?

I thought I was cool. Hindsight makes me ask what the hell I was thinking?

Is that some homeless ferret perched atop my head? Way too fond of the bleach bottle obviously. Not too skilled with the washing machine either. Everything seems shrunken. And the pearls and patent pumps? Very Princess Diana.

But what's with the picnic basket? I remember this was my trusty 'handbag'.

Surely female sanitary goods weren't that huge 20 years ago?

Sex in Sox

2006-08-11T16:49:00.000-07:00

In my role as rubber chicken sex therapist, I thought I'd better share the following important statistic with you:

Proportion of surveyed couples who reached orgasm during

intercourse when they kept their socks on: 80%; without socks: 50 %

Source: John S. Croucher, Professor of Statistics, Macquarie University

I knew this was one hot photo. Posted before but worthy of a repeat in the given context. McKay, maybe this is where your sexy photo misses out? Stockings, not bed socks?

Sex on a chick. Airbrushing courtesy of Sookey Jane.

What about Bob?

2006-08-10T18:52:00.000-07:00

I know I must be feeling guilty about my lack of physical activity when I start dreaming about Bob Harper, physical trainer to various celebrities and The Biggest Loser contestants.

Granted, he is easy on the eye. From that point of view, the dream was quite pleasant. However, I take issue with his training strategies.

Stationary cycling on a London Underground train during rush hour is not my thing. Me peddling away amidst the crush in snappy lime lycra is probably not anyone else's thing either. Thankfully, in my dream, everyone appears to have either delayed breakfast or have an exceptionally strong stomach.

Note to self. There will be no more late night snacks.

GB-string

2006-08-08T02:31:00.000-07:00

Things are in turmoil here.

And, no, it's not a response to seeing The Janitor in these tasty undies.

*averting my eyes*

The Janitor's work situation has become a little dodgy again. The pressure is on, the aim is to force him out, redundancy would be too costly. It appeared settled for a while but the scheming and manoeuvering is underway again. May they continue to make the silly blunders they've already made. Document! Document! Document! And then we'll pounce.

He's under enormous stress though and so tonight might be the night for a loving massage with the Vim (vicious cleaning product for those not in the know). Talk about exfoliation!

We're reevaluating our situation and if the job goes, looks like we might go too. Yes, McKay, if you suddenly find a group of strangers camping out in your backyard...say, no more.

But we're actually thinking of going back to the Old Dart, although I swear The Janitor misheard that D for a F.

*opening the window*

A lot to think about but I might have to wait for the air to clear.

Foot in mouth disease

2006-08-04T03:26:00.000-07:00

If only I were this cute.

I haven't been blogging much this week and that's probably a good thing. Lately, it seems I only have to open my mouth and the foot is in there.

I've got into things I swore I would never get into. Somehow the psychological duct tape slipped and the mouth went into overdrive.

I've written things, revisited them later, only to ask myself what on earth was I thinking? I've emailed quickly written clumsy emails that read completely different than intended.

Must be something to do with the alignment of the planets (and I won't stoop to a Uranus joke here, although it's very tempting - I freely admit to anything for a cheap laugh).

Anyhow, if you're one of my "victims", I grovel accordingly. And, if you happen to be one of the people that I didn't upset or annoy this week, sincere apologies for missing you out!

McKay. I hope you got that patio makeover. I'm heading over for a few medicinal tequillas.

Poop psychology

2006-08-01T01:31:00.000-07:00

I'm working flat out. I'm tense. I'm stressed.

And everybody knows it.

So, it was a thoughtful (or brave?) Janitor who dropped one of those little self-help, touchy feely books that booksellers always place by the cash register, to be bought by your insecurities.

Useful. And I thought it worth passing a few hints on.

Change

Embrace change but don't get into heavy petting with it.

Stress in the workplace

When you are experiencing stress in the workplace, there is nothing more soothing than a cup of herbal tea. Make the tea in a large mug, add a generous spoonful of organic honey, then pour the contents over the desktop pc of the person who's been getting up your nose.

You can do it

Think of your negative feelings as fruit or vegetables.

Your sadness is a tomato.

Your anxiety is a marrow.

Your guilt is a cucumber.

Crush the tomato. Squash the marrow.

Sit on the cucumber.

Satisfying

Satisfy your inner child by eating ten tubes of Smarties.

Appearances

You don't really need makeup.

Celebrate your authentic face by frightening people on the street.

Trust

Trust your feelings. Give them space to express themselves. Let them go out to the shops on their own. But tell them not to take sweets from strangers.

I'm feeling better already.

From The Little Book of Complete B******s by Alistair Beaton.

Watching John Malkovich

2006-07-28T23:45:00.001-07:00

It's been an exciting week. Not.

Work, more work and even more work. It's going to be like this for the next couple of months and then it's all over. And I can't wait.

But I've decided to relax this weekend and watch a few movies. Last night I saw "Being John Malkovich" again. Always worthy of repeat viewing. My favourite scene is where JM enters his own portal and suddenly everyone is Malkovich (quite fetching in a red dress, John!) and can only utter the word Malkovich.

John Malkovich has a voice that sends shivers down my voice. Quite delicious. So, what better followup for today than Dangerous Liaisons?

It's beyond my control.

When it comes to JM, I truly believe it is.

MiPod

2006-07-24T22:40:00.000-07:00

One of my birthday presents was an iPod. I know I'm a bit behind but I've never been keen on one and I couldn't really see why I'd want one. And, apart from that, I'm kind of clueless about the technology.

But, then, my turntable/record player died, leaving me without any method of playing my beloved 80 vinyls.

Daggy though it is, this rubber chicken is prone to having the occasional mad hour of 80s music. Ah, the memories....

Suddenly, it was all taken away from me and I was left with the option of making a Blancmange fruit bowl, a Thomas Dolby soap dish and the Soft Cell sock basket....until someone took pity on my ignorance and pointed out I could download all of these old records online.

An iPod finally beckoned.

It's love. Not only for me but for the Janitor, who seems to have been on another planet during the 80s judging from his record collection. Aieee.

The Old Chook

2006-07-19T18:53:00.000-07:00

Yep, another cutting-edge Photoshop effort from TCW.

*Say, where's the sarcasm font characteristic on this blogging thing?*

Still, cut me some slack. It is my birthday and I am feeling a little rough around the edges.

Cake? Not for me. For one thing, this is my first birthday as a coeliac chicken and gluten free cake largely has the consistency and taste of a brick. Secondly, I am supposed to be on a three day carbohydrate binge for a medical test tomorrow but had to stop. Carbs apparently make me sick.

So. Help yourself to the cake. It's only been sat in by one rubber chicken.

And the Bloscar....

2006-07-16T04:50:00.000-07:00

for dumbest blogger goes to ...........

*drumroll*

....The Cleaning Woman!

Yes, hmm. Dubious honour that one but well deserved.

Turns out I had restricted comments on this blog to a select few (you know who you are, doesn't that make you feel good about yourself?)

So, if you're the German speaking individual who's been plaguing my hotmail address with offers of a hot and spicey knockwurst, leave it out or rather leave it here.

One knockwurst in the comment section is worth ten in the mailbox so they say.

OH. And this fabulous photo of me and friend is courtesy of the truly gifted Sookey Jane. If you haven't checked out her fabulous website at The Compleat Steve (see side bar), you don't know what you're missing.

Of course, if you're not partial to Steve Martin, that wouldn't amount to much.

Boom, baby!

2006-07-14T02:25:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm still typing in those questionnaires which means life at the moment is pretty mundane. The only exciting part of this is some of the comments people feel they need to make in response to some of the questions, even though only a tick in the box is required. So far it's all about sex, obesity and God, not that any of that is related to the issue in question.

And I'm getting all kinds of things sent to me. Religious pamphlets, a brochure on Viagara (!?!), picture cards. Very interesting.

Anyway, enough of that unless you're into statistics. If multivariate analysis is your thing, baby, rock on over.

In the meantime, I did get tagged and so here are things you may not have known (and never wanted to know!) about me.

A) Four jobs I have had in my life (not listed in order of preference)

1. Oracle Database Adminhenstrator
2. Shoe saleschicken
3. Henalyst/Programmer

4. Psycholochickst.

B) Four movies I would watch over and over

1. TENG (see above)
2. Love Actually
3. LA Story
4. Schindler's List

C) Four places I have lived

1. Sydney
2. London
3. Backnang
4. Wantage

D) Four TV shows I love to watch

1. House
2. Northern Exposure (on DVD)
3. The Amazing Race
4. Kommisar Rex (I'm NOT watching for the dog ;) )

E) Four places I have been on vacation

1. Tunisia
2. Fuerteventura
3. Los Angeles
4. Vienna

F) Four websites I visit when I can

1. The Compleat Steve
2. Rubber chicken anonymous
3. BBC World News
4. SteveMartin.com

G) Four of my favorite foods

1. Gluten free fettucine
2. Chocolate (for medicinal purposes)
3. Cheese (the harder to pronounce, the better)
4. Spaetzle

H) Four places I would rather be right now

1. Anywhere but entering these questionnaires
2. Writing something more interesting on my blog
3. In bed watching House
4. Vienna, with a huge slice of Sachertorte and a revved up espresso

Servus!

Snowed under!

2006-07-10T23:29:00.000-07:00

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

A mailout of 1000 questionnaires, running at 24 pages long.

Yep. That's until I get them back and have to enter all the data. For those not in the know, I'm in the middle of my thesis (or rather towards the end of my thesis and running extremely late). So it's going to be many a late night inputing data across 300 variables for each and every single questionnaire.

I mean. The world needs to know about the habits of rubber chickens, right?

So less time blogging. Until I need a distraction that is.

Let's see how long I last out.

I'll give myself 24 hours.

MAX

Where in the world is TCW? (2)

2006-07-06T15:17:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about this city of late.

It's been quite a while since I visited and I wouldn't mind going back sometime soon.

Even if the French are rude to us Brits.

Even if they charge ridiculous prices.

Even if they insist on having wierd toilet habits.

I once saw someone take a dump on the metro platform, calmly wipe and walk away.

Really. First person to say "no s**t!" gets booted.

Extreme behaviour but, even so, I'm not convinced by some of their toilet facilities.

When I was there in the 80s, they'd installed a number of automated toilet units, kind of like a lavatorial Tardis. You'd go in, the door would shut behind you and you'd be cocooned. Piped music, the toilet would autoflush and clean. All very good.

Until you notice the soundtrack is Thriller.

And the soundtrack is sounding a little warped.

And the toilet won't stop flushing.

And the door won't open.

And you're feeling a little claustrophobic.

And you need to get rescued.

Suddenly, the hole in the ground business makes a great deal of sense.

Do I really want to go back?

A pain chocolat and coffee on the bustling Champs Elysee with a background murmur of one of the most beautiful sounding lanuages in the world?

You betcha.

Which painting are you?

2006-07-04T13:44:00.000-07:00

So asks El Cameleon.

Very interesting question and one I wasn't able to answer fully at her blog because of my blogging ineptitude and wanton laptop. Still, a short rap with the sharp stick resolved that issue.

I'd love to be a Picasso nude but my chicken flesh is probably not that attractive. So, I guess I'd have to say I'm this gal.

"Oh, Alright" by Roy Lichtenstein.

Mind you, this gal sits in Steve Martin's personal collection. Why on earth would she want to say no?

Fawlty Laptop

2006-07-03T04:27:00.000-07:00

Basil and I have something in common.

He feels about his car exactly the same way I feel about this laptop.

Come on, start up, will you!? Start up, you vicious bastard!!

Come on! Oh my God! I'm warning you — if you don't start up…

*screams with rage*

I'll count to three.

*she presses the start key, without success*

One…two…three…!!Right! That's it!

*she leaps out of the chair and addresses it*

You've tried it on just once too often! Right!

Well, don't say I haven't warned you! I've laid it on the line to you time and time again! Right!

Well…this is it! I'm going to give you a damn good thrashing!

*she rushes off and comes back with a large branch*

* she beats the car without mercy*

Hey, it worked. Mr. Cleese, sir? You are a legend.

*keeping big pointy stick to the right of the keyboard*

Pooh and more pooh

2006-06-30T20:16:00.000-07:00

Does my bum look big in this photo?

Ha. Well, this is the current state of affairs chez The Janitor's Cupboard.

Whatever this thing is that we've caught, it's a bugger of a thing. With clogged sinuses, hacking coughs, watering eyes, we're a must for all social occasions. Want to get rid of that pesky guest? Sit them next to us.

As we're all affected, at least we can still group hug.

You're welcome to join us of course.

Just watch out for the elephant droppings.

Toxic chicken

2006-06-25T00:09:00.000-07:00

If you're not reading this gowned, gloved and masked, RUN AWAY!!!!!

The only person holding out at this moment in time is The Janitor but we're working on him, believe me.

Normal service shall be resumed shortly. Hopefully.

Get me out of here!

2006-06-21T21:23:00.000-07:00

Forget the bird flu.

Even as a family of rubber chickens, we're not currently concerned.

We have much more potent issues.

Remember the Janitor's spots originally thought to be chicken pox and then rediagnosed as allergy? A week later and they're spreading.

Now TheBabyCleaningWoman has also been sick and has thrown out a few spots. Current medical thinking is that the pox could in fact be correct.

And what's more, I'm getting a sore throat, my glands are hurting and I'm itchy. Everywhere.

I'm hoping this is purely a psychological phenomenon. The power of suggestion and all that....

If not, GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!

Got a spare room, McKay?

Where in the world is TCW? (1)

2006-06-19T03:07:00.000-07:00

Fed up of that same view out the window?

Want a change of scene but don't want to actually move your butt out of that comfy armchair?

Fear not! Welcome to TCW's vicarious travel series.

Where am I?

Clue:

Avoid the local speciality Fung Chao.

It's definitely not chicken soup for my soul.

Life's a beach.

2006-06-16T22:41:00.000-07:00

I've decided I need a holiday.

Alright, alright, I'm not artist but you catch my drift.

And you try masking a full frontal naked man leaping with an umbrella. I could have posted the original for your titillation but, as said before, this isn't that kind of website.

What strange things they get up to on this particular island.

Seems perfect for me. Compared to that, who's going to take notice of a rubber chicken in a hot pink bikini?

Bring on the oil, cabana boy.

And make that extra light virgin olive oil.

The Final Straw

2006-06-16T02:31:00.000-07:00

Okay. Commandeered the master bedroom.

Check.

Conquered the bathtub.

Check.

Catburgled Thebabycleaningwoman's milk.

Check.

Life sure is good.

Now where's the tequila?

My Inner European

2006-06-14T23:20:00.000-07:00

Your Inner European is Russian!

Mysterious and exotic.

You've got a great balance of danger and allure.

And a gun in my hand by the looks of it.

Nothing like that to force the point.

Mysterious AND exotic. Got it?

*preen*

возбуждающий чистильщик

Who's Your Inner European?

Jacques Catsteau

2006-06-14T02:07:00.000-07:00

I've come to the conclusion that The Janitor's Cupboard is a wierd place to live.

Wierd. Pure and simple.

Chicken pox that turns out to be an allergy.

To TheCleaningWoman perhaps?

Cats that sneak in my bubble bath unbeknown to me and frighten the bejesus out of me when I get in.

The cheek of it. I don't even let The Janitor share my bathwater.

I had the sneaking suspicion this new cat was more human than feline.

Now I know for sure.

Seems that it's not only humans who can have a bad hair day.

A pox on our house

2006-06-12T03:27:00.000-07:00

I had a heart to heart with The Janitor.

I told him I wanted him to try something a little more daring, a little more racey.

This was not what I had in mind.

There's very little erotica in applying calamine lotion.

*itch* *itch* *scratch*

I so hope I'm not getting it. Sigh.

Hang on a moment!

Maybe I just need to think outside of the square?

*off to play join the dots*

Bumblebee Tuna!

2006-06-09T02:35:00.000-07:00

A week ago I made the mistake of digging out the old Ace Ventura movies.

Bumblebee tuna!

Silly but funny. Except now I have the above phrase stuck in my head.

Sitting here working.

Bumblebee tuna!

In the supermarket, at the checkout .

Bumblebee tuna!

Standing up to deliver a presentation at work.

Bumblebee tuna!

AIEEEEEE.

There's no escape. Or is there?

Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna.

Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna.
Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna.

Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna.

Is it engrained in your head yet? Muuhahhahahahahaa!

Dirty Barry

2006-06-06T02:26:00.000-07:00

Move over Clint Eastwood. There's a new sheriff in town.

Fed up of those troublesome youths in your neighbourhood? Want them moved right along?

Who ya gonna call?

Seems a Sydney suburb has the answer to all your prayers.

For the next six months, a local council has decided to subject the ears of its youth to the entire catalogue of Barry Manilow.

Constant Copacabana and other assorted Barry titles through loudspeakers in car park troublespots is expected to 'kill' the atmosphere and move the youngsters on.

Effective possibly. Humane??? Questionable.

The chief danger of TheCleaningWoman in a carpark is not so much in the loitering and playing up, it's in the parking. Yep. It's tragic. Therefore, it could be in the council's interests to keep this area CleaningWoman free.

Now, personally, I have nothing against Barry (though I hasten to add that my music collection is not that eclectic) so this isn't going to cut it.

So, local council, may I suggest a selection of the following:

My Heart Will go On

Eye of the Tiger

Top of the World

Tie a Yellow Ribbon

Ring my Bell

Like a Virgin

Who let the Dogs Out

Yep, any of those would do it.

What would move you right along?

On the edge

2006-06-03T19:01:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my life. This represents why I have been a little quiet on the blogging front of late.

Not that it seems anyone would notice. After all, no one ventured forth and declared their seven deadly sins. Unless, of course, you're all without sin?

Ah, phooey.

Anyway, life currently is a mad mix of work, study and family commitments, all served up with a dash of illness.

While I probably need a visit from Dr. House, I've chosen to succumb to the sofa with Dr. Joel Flesichmann, aka the medico from Northern Exposure, instead. After such a long time, I still love the gentle humour of this series.

And what better medicine is there than a good laugh?

Seven Deadly Sins

2006-05-29T21:22:00.000-07:00

Greed What was your most extravagant purchase?

A pair of black suede open front lace shoes with a ruffle that ran around the heel.

*blush*

Give me a break! It was 'puffy shirt' era. They cost a fortune from a store in the Kings Road, Chelsea, London. We had a day off uni. for a student protest. I went shopping in my new shoes, only to inadvertently come across the march. Shamed, I joined in and my shoes fell apart in the rain.

Instant kharma.

Envy What brings out the green eyed monster in you?

Actually, I'm always green eyed and some would say a bit of a monster.

But really. Envy? What's the point?

Lust What or who do you lust after?

Ah. Now you're talking. Apart from The Janitor, of course, lust is currently something most closely associated with this person below. I tried dressing him up in drag and smuggling him in as my assistant reinemachefrau but nothing gets past the Janitor these days.

Anyhow, he is German. But that's okay. We just won't mention the war.

Anger What makes you lose your temper?

Typing this is and then losing it at the last minute.

Accidentally posting the photo of the Janitor in his birthday suit.

Missed it? Now you're the one with the anger issues.

Pride What are you most proud of?

Well, it's not the cleanliness of my bathrooms. See below. Seems Nessie has seen fit to relocate.

Guess it would have to be the babycleaningwoman.

Sloth When are you at your laziest?

Try right now. I should be working. Heh heh.

Gluttony What's your favourite food?

I seem to be a cheesoholic currently. No point baiting the mouse traps in this Janitor's cupboard. Mousetrap, Tilsiter, Brie..if you can pronounce it, I can eat it.

Worry about cholesterol? Haloumi kidding?

What about you?

Prada Prada Prada

2006-05-29T16:12:00.000-07:00

Life is stressful, winter has hit.

Time to hit the shops for some overdue retail therapy and get me some winter warmers.

Are they me?

And please be kind. Don't pull the rug from under me.

Carpet burn is not a good look.

Thank G*d it's Friday

2006-05-25T23:14:00.000-07:00

Friday night at The Janitor's Cupboard.

The end of another hard working week and The Janitor's away.

Time for us Cleaningwomen to play.

Anyone got a spare dollar bill?

Lordi, Lordi

2006-05-22T00:51:00.000-07:00

This weekend was the Eurovision song contest.

And the person above in the latex is the winner from Finland. Saunas and latex? Not a good combination in anyone's book. Definitely don't try that at home.

Anyway, that's Mr. Lordi to you, from the group Lordi to be precise, whose song "Hard Rock Hallelujah" finally dragged Finland out of the 'nil point' abyss and into first place. Fin-ally.

No pun intended. After all, that would be an exceptionally weak one.

Well, okay, then. You got me. I admit to being that cheap.

So, hallelujah, indeed. And in the spirit of celebration, I have included a few useful Finnish phrases. Please feel free to use wantonly. You never know where they might get you. A free rollmop at the very least I'd say.

Be very careful using 'The Monica' though. Sometimes a cigar is, well, not a cigar.

Käyhän että tuon kannettavani saunaan?

Now I know the significance of this event means little to American readers who I don't believe have ever been unfortunate enough to be exposed to this. However, given the way the definition of Europe is rapidly expanding in terms of who's eligible to enter this competition, you might find yourselves included next year.

After all, the USA is closer to the hub of Europe that several of the 'European' countries entered. So I'd thought I'd offer a few useful hints of how to organise a winning entry:

Write a song with a silly song title

Past winners have included 'A Ba Ni Bi' (1978), 'Ding Dinge Dong' (1975), 'Boom Bang-a-Bang' (1975) and my personal favourite 'Diggi Loo-Diggi Ley' (1984).

Oho! Tota noin.. Eihän se vaa ollu' sun ajokoira?

Costume

Female clothing should be as non-existent as you can get away with. Alternatively, clothes should be able to be ripped off. Hair should be big. Makeup tarty.

Odota, anna minun ajaa se pois.

Only men with copious dark body hair, a penchant for a) kaftans b) MC Hammer type silk harem pants or c) gold lame should apply.

The Molvanian entry for your viewing pleasure

Molvania disqualified!

Molvania disqualified again!

And, my final Finnish offering. The Monica.

Mielestäni teillä on söpö presidentti.

And now it's goodnight from me and it's goodnight from him. At least I think that's what that finger means.

Phrases courtesy of http://www.kisa.ca/finnish-phrases.html

1 Is it OK if I bring my laptop in the sauna?

2 I'm awfully sorry... was that your ferret?

3 Wait, let me shave it off.

4 I think you have a cute president.

El pollo de goma 857-4953

2006-05-19T18:18:00.000-07:00

And, no, please don't try and ring that fake phone number. I don't want some poor individual inundated with calls about chickens, yet alone rubber.

You see, I was reading this morning about the town of Cedillo in Spain. Apparently, it's so common in Spanish country towns to use nicknames that people can't remember anyone's real name. It seems everyone knows 'El Gordo' ('the fat one') but Juan Lopez draws a blank.

So the town has resorted to creating their own phone book based on the nicknames.

What fun! And a great idea for those celebrities who are adept at mislaying their phone books....of course, it doesn't help with stray sex videos, unless the nickname comes with a penchant for wearing masks and other paraphenalia of disguise during the act.

What would be your favourite celebrity nickname?

The wickeder, the better.

My favourite is "Three Strikes" (Robert Downey Jr.)

On a personal note, the devil in me expects to spend the day reworking my own address book.

Grumpys*d. You know who you are.

Blinded me with science

2006-05-15T23:18:00.000-07:00

I came across the following mindnumbing fact today. It's been intriguing me all day and, in the end, I just had to share.

A cockroach breaks wind every 15 minutes.

Now, my question is, how the hell do they know that?

Is there a scientific study on cockroach flatus somewhere? Did they assign some poor PhD student to sit there with a counter?

And how do they know when a cockroach breaks wind?

Is it audible? Do they measure gaseous levels in a chamber?

And is this hazardous work? Do you get danger money?

Could this be a new career opportunity?

So many questions and, darn it, I want answers!

Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus...

2006-05-14T23:10:00.000-07:00

and sometimes I think relationships are from Uranus.

Sorry, gratuitous 3rd grader planetary joke there. Had to slip one in sometime, right?

Got to hand it to John Gray. Men and women are different. I'm so glad someone noticed. And I do find his book very useful when looking to step up my fitness regimen a little.

After all, chasing The Janitor around whilst raising a heavy rolling pin can become a little tedious. Throwing the 'Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus' tome at his head works those arm muscles nicely and has the added benefit of improving my visuo-spatial skills.

Imagine my delight then to discover 'The MarsVenus Supershake.' A magical concoction of brain nutrients that supposedly lower stress in men and women and leads to weight loss in EVERYONE.

It doesn't actually say what those nutrients are but, hopefully, this isn't where the Uranus part finally kicks in.

But, yep, chucking a can of MarsVenus Supershake at the Janitor's head could relieve quite a bit of stress.

Apparently, 'It works because the ingredients are expensive.' Reassuring stuff.

Not just your old cheap tin can then. He's got me. Where do I get my first shipment?

A catastrophic mistake

2006-05-09T20:12:00.000-07:00

Never name a cat after a goddess. A cat already thinks it owns you.

Clio, Greek goddess of history (modified appropriately for this household to histrionics), has already established the ground rules.

The kingsize bed, newly installed for the pleasure of the Janitor and TheCleaningWoman, now rightfully belongs to the cat. We are, however, most welcome to make use of the padded cat basket if we wish but please leave behind the European pillows. Most pleasing to her ladyship.

The laptop is not to be used for any reason. Work and blogging can go out of the window. The lid should be left open and the appliance left powered up because that makes the keyboard a comfortable and warm place to sleep in the afternoon.

Plants are to be restored to floor level. They are an endless source of amusement for playtime and a yummy mid-morning snack.

Cups of freshly brewed tea should be left out to cool before being sampled by the cat. Any tea left remaining may be for human consumption if the cat is feeling particularly benevolent.

And this is only day two.

Maybe it's time to buy a BIG dog.

Cleaningwoman in shock delivery

2006-05-07T04:33:00.000-07:00

New arrival, small, furry and exceedingly cute. As yet unnamed. Tiddles and Cat ruled out. Suggestions welcome.

Mother and baby doing well.

Janitor demanding paternity test.

It's all Greek to me

2006-05-05T23:51:00.000-07:00

No.

This isn't the latest family portrait of TheCleaningWoman and TheJanitor. Sorry to disappoint but we're not much into togas and unrestrained body hair. Although we are game for the odd comfy cushion. And that does look a little like a family beast in the right hand bottom corner.

I have simply been living up to my name and going through darker corners of the Janitor's cupboard.

Disturbing what you will find (and there are only certain things I'm prepared to share in this arena).

I came across a stack of old 80s vinyl. Elvis Costello. Soft Cell. Toyah. Thompson Twins. Orange Juice. New Order. Buzzcocks. Eurythmics.

And I could go on and on.

*sigh*

For those of us who remember the 80s, it seems I really was a funky chicken.

And that's where things began to go pearshape. Adam and the Ants?

*wince*

Okay. Guilty as charged. Yep, and while I'm having an afternoon confessional...okay, I had the puffy shirt, the feathers (now both safely reassigned to dusting duties).

But Demis Roussos???????

*unrestrained sobs*

I totally deny all previous knowledge of this item.

Can only be one culprit. And he knows who he is. And he will pay, believe me.

I'm thinking endless loops on Copacabana on his ipod? Heh heh.

Demis Roussos? I'm a funky chicken, not a funky baklava.

Cleaningwoman exotica!

2006-05-02T23:03:00.000-07:00

Obviously I survived. I am somewhat gastrointestinally challenged though, so be warned.

Feeling a little under the weather (see? that's where the wind comes in), feeling a little ordinary. I need a makeover. After all, cleaningwoman is a little mundane, except when muttered through the clenched teeth of Rigby Reardon.

Wanting a more international flavour in salute to my non-readers, I massaged cleaningwoman through those handy online dictionaries.

Okay, so I have no life.

Reinemachefrau would be what you'd call me if I returned to my old stomping ground of Backnang, Germany. Tempting as it is, I never looked good in lederhosen even in the 80s.

Femme de menage. Woman of the house. See? Those French tell it as it is. Are you listening, Janitor dear? What's that you say? Menage a trois?

Oh, non, non, non.

Italians would call me Donna delle pullzie. And, believe me, if I ever decide on a career in porn, that's the one.

In Spain, I'm just plain limpiadora. While it might sum up my current fragile state nicely, it's hardly tempting. Unless you're touting viagra.

I'd love to be a takaritono. I'm always hungry, just not Hungarian.

Soujitu. That makes me sound either like a bad headcold or a stale piece of sushi.

Now, those wily Scandinavians.....

According to the dictionary, they don't have a word for cleaningwoman, don't even entertain the idea of a cleaner.

My kind of place. Expect the next post from a sauna in Helsinki.

From the rollmopwoman.

Red hot cookingwoman!

2006-04-30T22:10:00.000-07:00

Morphing from thecleaningwoman into the cookingwoman seems like a good excuse to have a picture of a fireman hottie on my blog. I've included it for the pleasures of readers only, of course. I've promised not to look at it.

*sneaky peek*

It does serve a practical purpose though. This is probably who I will be calling later this afternoon.

I have been forced to cook. Or rather bake.

Despite a scene reminiscent of Chernobyl, I currently have what I hope will be edible gluten free chocolate muffins in the oven. In January this year, I was diagnosed coeliac which means no more gluten.

For a bread lover like me, I have been in mourning ever since. Seen someone strange loitering around the italian bread counter, breathing in heavily? Yep, that's me. That pervert in the newsagent slobbering heavily over Baking Weekly? *blush*

Everyone keeps telling me things aren't so bad. After all, there's a lot of gluten free products around these days. Note, this is mostly people who aren't allergic to gluten and who tell me this as they happily munch on their pan chocolat.

Everything I've tried so far has the taste and consistency of a house brick. So, now I've decided to try and bake something myself.

*audible maniacal laughter in the background*

I'm a self-confessed disaster in the kitchen. Agencies hire me to demonstrate their biohazardous material handling capabilities. Past 'successes' have included flambe high chair when I accidentally barbecued the high chair tray on the burner. Catch my drift?

Anyway, got to dash. This smoke is getting a little choking and there's some strange deafening screeching sound. If I fail to blog again, you know how it turned out.

Wanted. Dead or Alive.

2006-04-29T02:18:00.000-07:00

For general crimes against cleanliness.

For dynamic interior design during at open house viewings courtesy of projectile vomiting.

For nuclear waste dumping in disposable nappies. Hardly the work of a greenie, despite the colour.

For making me thecleaningwoman I am today.

Warning. Prolific poster.

2006-04-27T14:59:00.000-07:00

Okay. So now your brain hurts.

Fear not. I don't normally suffer from blogger diaorrhea.

Just relocated my blog from elsewhere.

So. No danger of another post for at least 20 minutes.

Muahaahaaa.

Ruddy Hell!

2006-04-27T14:47:00.000-07:00

Yes, MORE body image issues.

This is me. What is it they say about children and honesty?

AIIIIEEEEE. Say, where do I sign up for that UK cosmetic surgery show?

Find the Easter Egg

2006-04-27T14:45:00.000-07:00

And please be careful where you look!

Don't want to get into body image issues or anything but this represents pretty much how I feel after Easter.

(Brief aside - say, is that what they mean by carrying all your eggs in one basket?)

So, anyway, my name is The Cleaning Woman and I'm a chocoholic. Get me in the same room as anything with the name Lindt or Suchard and restraint goes out the window. And, this year, Lindt sure surpassed themselves. Chocolate bunnies (dark, milk, white), chickens, eggs, Lindor balls..... and, as self-appointed chocolate taster, I felt I had to assess them for the purposes of this blog. So here's the review.....

YUM.

*burp*

Ooops. Roll on next Easter.

Botox, buttocks and armchair travel

2006-04-27T14:41:00.000-07:00

I was reading today about some new reality show from the UK. Apparently women clamoured to be flown to LA to prove their butt-ugliness to cosmetic surgeons in order to win a complete plastic overhaul.

So what happens there?

"I'm sorry, you only have the features of the back end of a constipated baboon so we're voting you off. Live with it." Yikes. Who'd put themselves through that?

And that got me thinking about the internet and the images people present.

After all, you've probably read my profile. No hint at all that I'm really a cross dressing truck driver from the back of Bourke. Kidding, of course (and apologies to all crossdressing trucker drivers wherever you are).

Now, although my alter ego is a plastic chicken, I would like to say that's the extent of the plastic surgery in respect of this cleaning woman.
A botox free zone. And, for those of you who got excited by the title of this blog entry, this is where the buttocks part comes in. Seeing as that's how some people insist on pronoucing the supposed elixir of youth. Disappointing, I know, but this really isn't that kind of blog.

So, truth and honesty. Very important to me. Look at the photo. Remarkably good wear for my age.

And the red nose? I'd love to claim that as representative of the good, charitable side of the cleaning woman. After all, Red Nose Day is a very worthy cause but, at three months early, who's going to buy that?

Nope. Had the 'flu jab last week and been laid low with....well, what feels pretty much like the 'flu ....ever since. For a vaccine that supposedly isn't live, it seems to be doing a lot of living up in my body.

This year contains a combination of 'flu strains from interesting places like Vietnam, California and Singapore. Actually, I can't remember the exact places now but isn't it neat that your body can effectively visit these places and pick up exotic germs without even leaving your armchair?

Mind if I don't?

2006-04-27T14:35:00.000-07:00

The reading was proving less than successful. Could think of way too many things I'd rather be doing......like watching endless reruns of Titanic, listening to Adam Sandler singing whiney songs as he accomplished himself on the ukelele, taking the washing off that handy treadmill and actually using it for it's intended purpose. Riiiiigghhhttt.

Moving right along. Plenty to do, little motivation to do it.

Mindfulness Training. The CD has been sitting on my desk long enough 'minding' (ha ha) it's own business. How stressful can that be? I listen attentively, suddenly full of purpose and good intentions.

Ahaahahahaaaaaa. Le Guy has an outrageous French accent. I expect him to burst out into 'Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries' at any moment, yet alone 'fart in my general direction.' Not a good start.

I get over my Snickers (gratuitous product placement - Mars, please send humungous cheque) and try to get into the present moment...that being the point, of course. Except my brain is being non-cooperative. 'Is there toilet roll left in the bathroom?' Weighty matters like that. Things that really keep the world turning. HEY. we've all been stranded in that situation at some time. Tell me it's not dire (and hopefully not diaorrhea).

Focus. F-O-C-U-S. Deep breath. Listen. 'Let the mind go and the body will follow' to quote Steve Martin. I did, it did. I got it back about an hour later, complete with the imprint of the latest headline across my cheeks from the newspaper my head was resting on.

Someone poke me with a big stick. ZZzzzzzzzZZzzzz.

My brain hurts!

2006-04-27T14:31:00.000-07:00

Today is a 'working at home' day. Ha! An oxymoron is ever I heard one. Working at home means I should be reading from the huge pile of research papers conveniently hidden around the side of the book case so I can avoid thinking about them. Works for me.

I have read one.

But, then, I realised that I just had to look up that intriguing article about naked chickens on the internet....

In the big scheme of things, could be important, you know?

Mighty relieved to say this is not any relative of mine. The hussy! Don't think we don't know who you are though...

Reminds of that classic piece of poetry...."I'm not a pheasant plucker...." Maybe I should google that.

Hell, yes! Sure I can waste another couple of hours there....

Oh Pollocks!

2006-04-27T14:26:00.000-07:00

Anyone know the telephone number of this bloke?

Of course, you'll know him as Steve Martin the comedian/actor/musician. This is his hidden side, Steve Martin, home decorator. Very secret, hush-hush.

I'm asking because he looks kind of how I look right now but a whole lot neater. While I'm also covered in white from head to toe, any resemblence ends there.

Steve, as always, is pristine, I'm just plain mucky. His appearance is orchestrated, mine is non-intentional.

See, I've been concurrently painting a room and learning that I'm not really aren't that good at it.

If only the finished product looked like Steve's room above - instead it looks like a bad day in Pollock's studio.

Sigh. Handy man wanted!

It Ain't Half Hot Mom!

2006-04-27T14:19:00.000-07:00

Above - somewhat dodgy British sitcom from 70s to early 80s. I remember loving it at the time but, as a spring chicken, I doubt my funny bone was adequately developed.

Scary that I even remember this. However, this image (okay, well maybe not this particular image but probably one with Gloria in drag) popped into my head as I lay awake through another hot and sticky Sydney night (I refer to the weather only. Let's not go there..! )

What's going on? It's AUTUMN. Autumn. Autumn.

Whoever manages this globes meterological schedule has fallen asleep on the job. Autumn means cooler. Where's the atmospheric air conditioning?? Someone flick the switch please.

Call me a whingin' Pom (Brit) if you like but I loathe the heat.

To be honest, I reckon someone slipped a little too much Ribena mixer in my water when I was filling out the application forms and Canada suddenly became Australia. That'd explain the moose outfit in my suitcase....

Thoughts from the Janitor's Cupboard

2006-04-27T02:10:00.000-07:00

Blogging.

Seems everyone is doing it.

Except me. Until now.

Thought you were safe from the mundane ramblings of the cleaning woman? Think again! Muhahahahahahaha. I can rant on as much as the next rubber chicken with it's butt stuck in a metal bucket (and I do wish they'd watch where they put that mop).

It seems like most people are gifted at thinking of witty titles for their blog. I thought of calling this a 'blog about nothing' but that wouldn't be witty, it would be darn truthful. And it's a name I'd share with a million other bloggers also partial to Seinfeld. Ditto 'blahda blahda blahda', although I think only 874343 bloggers have used that.

So...back to basics and 'Thoughts from the janitor's cupboard' it is. Manages expectations nicely. After all, not much goes on in the janitor's cupboard, although with all those cleaning fumes, who knows what might happen?