Monday, 13 August 2007

Operation Tim Tam

Operation Tim Tam - Chocolate biscuits that are the food of the gods sent to the Zen Queen and Grasshopper

8:30am - At the Supermarket. I knew exactly which aisle to go to find the Tim Tams due to lurking there previously before.

8:32am - Choice easily made. Bought myself a couple of packs just because I could

8:35am – Check-out chick agog at so many Tim Tams at her register. We discussed favourite flavours and the fact that it is a crime other cultures are unaware of such treasure but probably just as well as we both have issues over sharing Tim Tams.

8:40am - Managed to get to car without opening one packet – most impressed with myself

9:00am – Dragged my arse into work. Everyone looked at the large bag of Tim Tams eagerly. Everyone upset when I advised touch them and die.

1:00pm - Went to Post Office. Post Office ladies agog Americans knew nothing of Tim Tams and instantly agreed they must be sent in the name of cultural awareness and the ANZUS treaty.

1:20 pm – After swearing in blood I was only sending chocolate biscuits to the US, Tim Tams winging there way to the US

5:00pm – I was, as usual, first staff member (rats and office managers first) out the door home

5:15pm – home

5:16pm – first sip of wine

* Please note between 9am – 1pm I looked busy, drank coffee, filed nails, wrote part of the next book and answered personal email. Yes, even read work email as it related to important gossip about who was doing what to whom – filed all other email in to be looked at when in the mood folder.
* Please note between 2pm – 5pm ate lunch (can’t be expected to eat it in my own time), looked busy, drank coffee, wrote another couple of paragraphs and tried not to listen to Skippy smacking her head against the keyboard and moaning in demonic undertones.

When Hormones attack…

I have been exceptionally hormonal over the last couple of days. Yes, fancy, someone as sweet as me wanting to scream and smash things. I know it’s hard to believe but I become a tad emotional and ever so slightly bitchy when the hormones run wild each month. It’s only really something another woman understands. You know, it’s when nothing seems to work right or fit right. Take for instance my front door. My house is made of wood. Every winter the house drops, moves and shifts like all wooden houses do. This year because of the drought it is worse. This means doors and windows are not shutting properly without a lot of banging to shut them. Yes, it is a small thing unless you are hormonal then it’s a challenge. I could not shut the front security door (screen door) today. No matter how many times I banged it shut that sucker would not triple lock. What is the point of a security door that will not lock? Though, mind you, in my current state good bloody luck to any burglar dumb enough to think he will break in here. I swear I would have him in tears and on the ground in the foetal position in 2 minutes flat. We actually have a nutcase perverted groper running around Brisbane. He was last seen at my local shopping centre touching up a woman who was, as you’d expect, terrified. My family and friends all rang and said they weren’t worried about me as they knew I would deck him if he tried touching me without permission. Nice that people care so deeply about my well being - not. Anyway back to the door, I ended up kicking the crap out of the door until it submitted to my will. Jackie Chan has nothing on me when it comes to Kung Fu kicks. It closes like a treat now. Ha! Toy with me door? I think not.

I have this theory. If you send a bunch of hormonal women into a known terrorist area – they would find the terrorists in five minutes flat because they are not in the mood to be messed with. Something authorities should consider…

I have asked my doctor when can I please have menopause? You may think me crazy but I am actually looking forward to it as I have over this whole monthly thing. What a crock. She pointed out “you have years yet.” Bitch.

Speaking of …er…women sashay over to to check out the blog serial and please agree with me that Grasshopper is insane. I have to write something after that! Of course it’s all Anny’s fault for egging her on. To reflect back on her piece of madness from Saturday go immediately to They are mad I tell you mad! Possibly the Tim Tams will calm them down a bit.

Attention: - Mr Arnott’s Biscuit CEO…how about some free Tim Tams for all the free advertising? Go on, you know they will be going to a good home. I am contactable on

Rain Water tank countdown: 1 day

Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?


anny cook said...

I bow to your greater wisdom regarding the Tim Tams and won't point out that I am well into menopause. Every woman knows that a good kick will fix almost anything. The last individual who did the touch without permission thing got a broken nose for his trouble. And I firmly believe that Mr. Tim Tam ought to send you an assorted case of them. Oh yeah, I am anxiously awaiting your report on your water tank!

Kelly Kirch said...

All that fuss over a screen door? Maybe in Oz they make screen doors out of barbed wire, but Stateside it's flimsy metal which can be poked through with a stiff finger. Not much in the way of "security".

As for the water, still no rain, yes? So other than putting a HUGE cement contraption atop your shifting wooden house, thereby earning tax credits, what other use might it have? Can we store dead bodies in it while it's dry? Grasshopper is confused.

PS> Anny, did you note the minister thingy on my serial? Tell your friend it was for him. Pretty sure the Great Green One knows who I'm talking about there.

anny cook said...

You. Are. So. Bad!

Kelly Kirch said...

If the minister reads it and another minister's wife wrote it reeeeaaally that bad? I'm a good girl who plays naughty. MY minister likes it that way.

Oh, and Anny, the Japanese sensual rope experiment is a go. Must go to Home Depot and tie up my husband. Helen? consider it research (huh. does that mean it's a tax write-off?).

Amarinda Jones said...

The tank sits at the side of the house Grasshopper and no there is no rain but there is always hope.
Too much info on the ropes and I assume that minister thing is some cyptic thing between you and the zen queen

Kelly Kirch said...

Sorta. The Minister thing refers to our Zen Queen's neighbor who is a serial blog fan of ours. He's a minister who thinks you are refreshing (snort!) and therefore reads our three blogs. My Minister of Mary's is a nod to him.

The rope, I believe, was explained in Anny's offloop email to us regarding her hubby and research for an upcoming book.

Is there something else the lowly Grasshopper may teach the Master?