I have been feeling out of sorts the past couple of weeks. A strange, foreboding heaviness that I cannot place my fingers on plagues a heart that that is already burdened with...IT that shall not be named. [SOL]

I fear for my sanity, which if you don't know by now is hanging by a silvery, gossamer-thin thread. It clearly behooves me and all those around me for me to remain somewhat uncrazy because when madness takes over, I just become a puddle of murky, suffocating melancholy.

Here is but a wee flashback to how I can be when the heart and mind are weighed down by a 1-tonne millstone. 'Tis not a pretty sight, I assure you.

An Excerpt from a darker time...

....It appears that I'm in one of my melancholic bouts. Those of you who know me will know that it is during times like this that I can't help but give the proverbial permanently stitched heart on the sleeve a good airing for all and sundry. And I don't even care if you don't give a damn satang. Not anymore.

Do you know how much I hate tears? People who say that crying is good for the soul, that it's in fact a positive form of cathartic release are just full of B.S. I'm typing this through a fog of water+salt and trust me, I'm not feeling any sort of release here.

Why does nobody place any sort of value on friendships and relationships in this city? No, seriously, I really want to know. *out of sighT, out of mind* seems to be the adage of the day here. Friendships forged are transient and superficial at best and most times casually dismissed when one's tangible presence isn't around anymore. At first, I was appalled and beyond hurt at such cavalier attitudes towards relationships and such but now that I'm wiser (chyea) and been through the whole hoopla a dozen times over with unkept promises of *I'll keep in touch*, *no matter what happens, I'll always have your back*, I now ASPIRE to adopt this same flippant, lassire fare attitude about anything that even breathes.

Having said that, I am still anti-facebook and will not despite mounting peer pressure from all fronts, sign up on the shallowest and most superficial and FAKE *social networking* site to sprout up on the internet ever. As with all fads, this too shall pass. Anyone even remember friendster? 'nuff said. [note the self-righteous, holier-than-thou spirit here, yes you don't want to cross my path when I'm drowning in a pool of pain, disillusionment and severe let-downess.]

I shall strive my darndest to treat folks who pass through my life as disposible, dispensible and replaceable. [she says with such passion, such gusto, such blustering bluff, only at that time she believed she would/could do it]....

So, in the spirit of Good Friday and Easter, I shall strive to shake off this impending, n'er-bode-well feeling that only signals the oncoming rush of something So. Much. Worse.

rescue.me

Tim Tams and other Aussie goodies

I've rediscovered my love for these childhood, chocolatey morsels of pure bliss. Just make sure you get the real stuff. As in the Original Tim Tams and not the *made in Indonesia* shite.

Herein lies the difference.

Tim Tams that you get directly from down under has that unmistakeable and supremely fragrant chocolate aroma owing to the hint of caramel in every Tim Tam slice that the fake-ass ones lack. In fact the fakes smell and taste almost rancid and just plain nasty on the first whiff and only gets worse with every bite. It also lacks the crisp crunch that accompanies every Tim Tam Originals, be it the Double Coat (my current fav), the fancy Love Potion series or the spanking new Tim Tam Crush, which has amongst them some of the most luscious chocolate-coated biscuits, studded with crushed hazelnuts and honeycomb (which I'm pretty much a slave to), and to add to all that chocolatey goodness lies that smooth layer of chocolate cream that had me at first swirl. Yes, I swirl chocolate cream in my mouth before swallowing. What? Bunch of perverts. Really.

Quite possibly the best vanilla cream/toffee biscuits I've ever tasted.

I can polish off one pack of this in one sitting.

I am consumed with lust for this but can't find it anywhere damnit.

And this. Come on, you don't expect me to be able to resist tart lemon cream sandwiched between two melt-in-your mouth slices of buttery shortbread can you?



Vegemite. Now, I can certainly understand where the haters are coming from. It looks and smells like a pile of vile dog pooh that's been left out in the sun all week and thus now posses that over-ripe reek that you can't imagine smearing on your hot toast. Right? Yea, only if you've got such unrefined olfactory senses.

I cannot even begin to articulate the sublime yumminess of Vegemite thinly and evenly spread on a slice of hot, generously buttered toast. Seriously, this might call upon that that thing, what is it now, oh yea, *acquired taste* but damn once you've aquired it, it's bloody aquired you for life. Or maybe I'm just weird like that. After all, I can't think of anyone that I personally know who likes Weetbix as much as I do.

+ + = a little taste of heaven. I jest not.

If anyone knows where I can get my lusty fingers on some Double Devon Cream butter, I think you will have my utter devotion for the rest of my life. And please, before you suggest some ulu town in Doncaster, South Yorkshire, I will send Gordon after your ignorant arse. I will traipse all over this island if I have to but to send me to England, you damn well be ready with an air ticket in hand.

I demand to know. WTF happened to the supply of Violet Crumble here?!


I literally grew up on this stuff. No, you don't understand. When I say literally, I mean this shite, fcuking aided my growth spurt and I owe at least 20lbs and 1.56cm to the countless bars of VC that I consumed daily for many, many years. How do I make you comprehend and appreciate the kind of bond that my precious and now decidedly extinct Violet Crumble and I shared? I have no choice but to show you I guess and THIS truly does epitomize the essence of the relationship that was between VC and I.

Do you know the song Through the years by Kenny Rogers? (I am not ashamed to admit that I listen to Kenny Rogers and even rather enjoy his overpriced, herb-encrusted roast chicken). This is how it goes for those of you who incredibly don't know the song. Dudes, don't you know that this song is a karaoke LEGEND? Geez.

I can't remember when you weren't there.
When I didn't care for anyone but you.
I swear we've been through everything there is.
Can't imagine anything we've missed.
Can't imagine anything the two of us can't do.

Through the years
You've never let me down
You turned my life around
The sweetest days I've found
I've found with you
Through the years I've never been afraid
I've loved the life we've made
And I'm so glad I've stayed
Right here with you
Through the years
I can't remember what I used to do
Who I trusted whom, I listened to before
I swear you've taught me everything I know
Can't imagine needing something so
But through the years it seems to me I need you more and more
Through the years
Through all the good and bad
I knew how much we had
I've always been so glad To be with you
Through the years It's better everyday
Honeycombed my tears away
As long as it's okay, I'll stay with you Through the years
Through the years...
When everything went wrong
Together we were strong
I know that I belonged Right here with you
Through the years I never had a doubt
We'd always work things out I've learned what love's about By loving you Through the years.....

And I weep.