Still sober after 13 days – now with extra fox

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Hi Frog-Lovers, how are you all?

Thirteen days of Febfast have gone by, and here I am, still sober. It started pretty easily, but this week has tested me. Bugger sitting on the edge of that cocktail glass with my amphibian lips delicately dipping into the liquid, alcoholic deliciousness – some nights I’ve wanted to dive in and do a bit of backstroke.

Yet here I am. Sober.

Amazeovaries, I know.

This blog post is really not a blog post at all, but an excuse to beg you for more money. Please, please sponsor me. I set myself the goal of $1,000 and I’m not even 50% there yet. This suffering has to amount to something (and if that something was $1,000 to a worthy charity, then that really would be something).

Please, if you can spare $10, Torture the Frog Here.

In return, I give you my continued sobriety, and a very happy fox.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=uVncinQtBSU

See you around the pond, Frog-Lovers.

PS Watch this space for an upcoming announcement about an exciting project, and a charity auction for all you Game of Thrones/Ripper Street fans.

The Frog goes alcohol-free for 28 days

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Dog help me, it’s true, I’m signed up for FebFast. I must have lost my mind.

This is a 28 day sponsored challenge raising money to support youth, advocacy services and family drug support.

It’s also likely to be an exercise in torture because if you follow me on Twitter you know I love a nice vat drop of wine and the constant occasional cocktail.

So please spread the word, share the link to this post and donate on my sponsorship page:

Torture the Frog Here

Every dollar you donate will keep me on the straight and narrow and remind me that this is worth it.

Hold me. I’m going in*.

Cheers Thanks,

The Frog

* On 1 February. Right now I’m off to have a drink.

Conversations with my brain – ain’t nobody got time for that

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My brain is a mental arsehole, and I ain’t got time for that.

Brain:      SHIT!
Me:         What?!
Brain:      I can’t remember whether I left the oven on.
Me:         I’m sure I turned it off.
Brain:      How can you be sure?!
Me:         I always turn it off.
Brain:      BUT WHAT IF YOU DIDN’T? THIS COULD HAPPEN:

Me:         Wow she’s great. I wish I was her. As I was saying, I’m sure I did turn it off… I think.

Me:         Shit.
Brain:      See? You’re not sure. YOU LEFT THE OVEN ON AND NOW THE HOUSE WILL BURN DOWN AND WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE! Or maybe get bronchitis.
Me:         It’s 2am and I don’t want to get out of bed.
Brain:      What part of ALL GOING TO DIE don’t you understand?
Me:         Damnit. It’s cold. And it’s dark.
Brain:      ALL. GOING. TO. DIE.
Me:         I won’t be able to go back to sleep.
Brain:      ALL… GOING…
Me:         OK, OK, I’m getting up. Fascist.

Me:         I was right. It’s 2am, cold and dark and I didn’t leave the oven on.
Brain:      Really?
Me:         Yes.
Brain:      Are you sure?
Me:         Yes. I think so. I just checked.
Brain:      Were you paying attention when you did it, or were you thinking about how cold and dark it was instead?
Me:         I’m pretty sure I checked it.
Brain:      ALL… GOING… TO…
Me:         I hate you.
Brain:      …DIE.

I wish I was more like Sweet Brown. Her brain wouldn’t dare be an arsehole.

Is your brain an arsehole?

Why I punched Thursday in the whole of its face

Untitled2Hi Thursday. I guess you saw my tweet and are wondering why I wanted to punch you in the whole of your face. Well, I wrote that tweet with a heavy heart. For many years, you’ve been one of my favourite days of the week. You’ve provided the welcome respite from “Hump” Day, and you’ve teased me gently into the subtle pleasures of Friday. Alas, I feel, this week, our hitherto amiable relationship has withered and died.

Oh Thursday, how could you have let me down like this?

I woke to you yesterday after a night of sleep broken by nightmares, a child calling for me and feelings of general discomfort. Normally you would sooth me with a gentle schedule of work and domestic duties, made easier with the promise of the Friday to come.

What happened, Thursday? Did I do something revenge-worthy to you last week?

I woke thinking my partner was doing the morning child ritual of breakfast, clothes, teeth brushing and school drop off. I was rudely disabused of this notion and so had to drag my exhausted carcass out of bed to take part in what I suspect is the national team sport of all mothers: Olympic Nagging.

Yes, Thursday, I could have nagged for Australia. Get dressed eat your breakfast get dressed turn off YouTube eat brush your teeth turn off YouTube put your shoes on we’re going now no you can’t take five minutes when I’m almost out the door to find lollies to put in your bag you should have planned ahead instead of sitting in front of YouTube for twenty minutes TURN OFF YOUTUBE BEFORE I KILL YOU.

The school drop-off was executed in sullen silence without even a goodbye, despite my normal haveagooddayIloveyou speech.

When I came home I decided to tackle a task that I’d been putting off for a week; updating my iPhone. While I was there, I thought I might also fix the issues I’d had with iTunes and get everything synced up.

Three hours later I was ordering a new Samsung Galaxy Note 3 because iTunes is the work of Satan and needs to die in a fire.

While fighting with iTunes, two days of work were cancelled by a client.

Then the child was home and it was homework time. We both did our best and struggled through over an hour of writing effort with only three meltdowns (and only one of them was mine).

Then we ran out of milk and as I was heading out in the rain to buy some, I found a sodden dead rat on the lawn. I brought a certain rodent-deposing charm to the neighbourhood as I walked out onto the street holding a dead rat by the tail so I could drop it into the bin that had already been placed out for collection.

Of course in the process of disposing of said soggy rodent I discovered that some of the washing I’d put under the car port had fallen down onto the dirtiest part of the ground so will need to be rewashed.

Then I found out that Jerome Flynn is in Australia next month but not coming to Melbourne. I’ve already used up all my gifts this year and into the next and I can’t justify the expense of the flights and accommodation, let alone the $700 it would cost to meet him and have photos taken and why are you tormenting me this way, Thursday?

On top of this horror, you robbed me of the gift of coherent speech. I tried to explain to my partner that the convention Jerome’s attending, SupaNova, isn’t coming to Melbourne until April next year; except I didn’t say that.

I said “SupaNova isn’t in Melbourne until Adelaide.”

Each time I tried to correct Adelaide to April it came out… Adelaide.

Then the cat farted on me. I went to bed, slept badly again, and have woken up with conjunctivitis and my monthly book club.

And that is why I wanted to punch you in the whole of your face, Thursday.

Have you ever wanted to punch a day in the face?

P.S. The amazing Kelly Exeter has moved and redesigned my blog and she is AMAZING and has saved Friday.

Inspirational as Fuck

Well, here I am at Perth airport, whiling away 5 hours waiting for my flight home. Wow, Perth airport is only slightly better than Hobart airport. Unless you like 12 hour-old fridge sandwiches and fried shit accompanied with so much grease that you could practice your backstroke across the terminal floor in it.

There are, however, that most rare and precious of commodities at any airport – POWERPOINTS.

I’m plugged into one now as I type this on my tiny iPhone keyboard, wishing I’d brought the laptop, cursing my stupidity.

Then I remember that my laptop went to computer heaven a few months back anyway.

So here I am, at Perth airport, typing away with my stylus on a tiny screen, covered in a thin layer of chip grease. I’m making the most of things. Staying positive. These five hours give me time to get some stuff done.

In the last two weeks I’ve come in contact with a lot of very positive people. I like positive people; but I don’t like the people who are endlessly cheery and energetic.

You know the types I mean.

YES I AM HAPPY AND ENERGETIC AND YOU ONLY GET OUT OF LIFE WHAT YOU PUT IN SO I AM ALWAYS SO FUCKING HAPPY SEE MY RICTUS GRIN OF ENDLESS POSITIVITY I AM SO AWESOME!

It may come as no surprise to you that this doesn’t work for me. I don’t have bottomless supplies of energy, positive or otherwise. I’m not convinced they do either. Are they serious? I don’t think anyone can maintain that stuff sincerely all the time

My theory of these people is the same for those who are always serene, forgiving and calm; they’re lying and one day someone will dig up their basements and discover the ugly truth and all those uplifting memes were just a smoke-screen.

Or maybe I’m just jealous.

Either way, although today I feel positive, I know that won’t last and I’m quite happy being the emotional train wreck that I am. I don’t have the energy to be anything else.

DO YOU KNOW SOMEONE WHO IS RELENTLESSLY POSITIVE?
DO YOU BELIEVE THEM?

John Scalzi, jewel tones and Robin Thicke’s suit

Good morning Frog-Lovers, I hope you’re all fabulous and enjoying a pleasant Spring(ish) Friday.

No blog post today – just some reflections on the week.

First, I strongly advise you to go over here, to read author John Scalzi’s hilarious take-down of an arsehole who thought to use one of John’s photos against him. This piece brightened my week enormously and gave me serious out-loud chuckles. JEWEL TONES, MOTHERFUCKER.

Ahem.

I’m over here at the The Shake today, talking about the appalling stage appearance this week at the Video Music Awards; the vision that has rocked the entertainment industry. Yes, I’m talking about Robin Thicke’s suit.

Finally, let me leave you with some disturbing cows.

You’re welcome.

Have a wonderful weekend, everyone. See you around the pond.

Oh Sergeant Drake…

Happy Sunday everyone.

I have a little something for any Game of Thrones or Ripper Street fans amongst you today. If you don’t watch these shows GET THEM IN YOUR EYE SOCKETS STAT.

This may be old news to my UK friends, but I’d like you to watch this video.


Does the main singer here look familiar?

Hello Bronn. Hello Sergeant Bennet Drake.

The comment under the video is also priceless.

Now that I’ve blown your minds, I’ll leave you to your weekend.

See you around the pond, Frog-Lovers.

Movement that moves us

Hello Frog-Lovers. Here’s something that I came across this week in my wanderings around the pond…

I dare you not to be moved.


See you around the pond!

Maybe we’re not all arseholes after all

Well it’s been quite a couple of weeks, hasn’t it?

I’ve been despairing a lot, because it seems the world really is full of arseholes.

Then the wonderful Slackmistress posted this into my social media eyeballs and made everything better.

I hope your legs are holding up this week.

See you around the pond, frog-lovers.

x

How (not) to interview a guest on national television

Hi folks. Today I’m working on boring non-bloggy-type stuff but I’m also writing some HILAIRE stuff for The Shake.

In the meantime, I give you some awesome from Russell Brand, taking down some idiotic morning television hosts in the US

Oh America. Any more conservative and you’d suck yourself up your own arse. 

If you’re pushed for time, watch from 5 mins onwards. Rabbits. Headlights. Perfection.

See you in the soup, frog-lovers.