My composting brings all the birds to the yard

I'm here to teach you a little something about composting, because I have never met a location I can't compost in and I'm sure if you really tried, you wouldn't meet such a location either.

Composting is so incredibly basic that I'm surprised it's not more enforced. The rules are simple; if you have a bit of garden/bush/grass space, you can compost.

My first apartment was more of a hassle to compost from than other spaces I've lived in as it required me to actually leave the house and go downstairs. I had to sneak into the bushes while the neighbours weren't looking and deposit my little bucket of scraps into the garden and cover it with leaves. Every time I did it I would feel like a naughty little composting fairy, offering my smelly gifts to mother nature.

My second apartment = complete composting breeze. Although I would have to step over my bed with the scraps to get to the window, this was but a small obstacle to gain access to the mini forest of trees below. You name it - chicken scraps, orange peels, egg shells, whatever it was, if it wasn't going in my mouth it was going out the bedroom window and back to nature.

In my current dwelling, it is probably the most convenient composting process yet. If it isn't straight out the kitchen window (which I must admit, I do have trouble aiming from) it is straight off the kitchen balcony and into the little garden space which no one can access. Luckily because it's pretty much inaccessible without a climb, no one will ever know about my great organic deeds, which I dare say some may disapprove of. For instance, I was a little bit naughty around Christmas when I chucked all the stinky prawn heads/shells and squid guts over there. It was fine at the time but the next day it kind of made the whole outside area stink. BUT, as a considerate and good composting sort, I climbed into that composting haven and buried those naughty, stinky seafood scraps with dirt, allowing nature to absorb the scrappy juices through the soil. Problem solved.

Sometimes, when the scraps are too light, liquified or sloppy to be thrown from the kitchen level, the lucky things get to go on a field trip upstairs to my bedroom balcony where they get to base jump into the garden from even higher.

So you see, composting is easy and wonderful and anyone who cares enough about reducing their carbon print on this already environmentally unfriendly world, can join in on the fun! Although I'm guessing that's not you, but thanks for reading none the less.

But you know, not only does the food get to naturally break down and biodegrade its arse back into nature, but often I get little thank yous from birds and cats for giving them little snacks to enjoy.

OK OK, so what I do isn't actually "composting" per se, because composting is more about using decayed organic material as a plant fertilizer (which I'm sure it's doing anyway) but what I am doing is healthy for the environment and I'm heaps more popular with it now.

Hippies UNITE!

I'm learning about the universe, what are you doing?

I'm learning about the universe. I know it sounds crazy, right. You are probably thinking "what is a narcissistic 24 year old girl who writes about falling off stools doing learning about something so big and scientifically wonderful. Not only that, but how will she be able to comprehend such a complex subject?"
These are both very good questions, both I have already asked myself. The answer is simple - I shall read my complex book about the universe (which claims to be simple) very, very slowly.
The universe is just great. I've always been interested in the topic because my dad LOVES it. He is great at explaining amazing things about it in simple terms because understands it and is fascinated by the subject. His brain is also more developed than mine (I think), he is smarter, wiser and reads a lot of books. In my defense however, although I may not read books and understand incomprehensible subjects, I do know how to turn on and operate a computer reasonably well (poor Dad).
Anyway, on Christmas night, after a giant pork roast and beer full of belly, or a belly full of beer (I don't want to delete what I typed first because it was a mistake and a funny one at that) we sat around pondering the universe and all things great. From how vastly big the universe actually is, to the speed of light and all things in between.
A few days later when I was back at work and the silly season had died down (a little), I sat at my desk thinking about my life time dream of having a smart brain which I would use to be really, really, ridiculously successful. It was at that moment that I realised that I really needed to learn about the universe.
I text my dad right away and asked him what book he recommended I read to learn about the universe in a really simple way. He recommended "A Short History of Nearly Everything" by Bill Bryson.
HOW EXCITED AM I NOW?
I've got the book at home and I've read two chapters in two days. I plan to read every chapter very slowly and read it very slowly twice. Then, once I have a good enough understanding of each chapter, I will extract my favourite pieces of information and re-write them in a version that all narcissistic 24 year old girls who write about falling off stools will understand.

Do you have enough support to run?

Dressed in attire ready to run down Spring Flat, I stood on a stool, destroying the last thick layer of dust on top of the book shelf in my childhood bedroom. I was dusting the trophies my dad told me not to throw out because they are a "reflection of who you were." I know the sad truth that they are just a reflection of my forced participation and a reminder of the time I was booted from my netball team for being "butter fingers."

The positive now though, is that I am active and I was ready to go for a run. As I dusted the last bit of the shelf, I remembered that yesterday my sports bra hadn't given me the ideal support, so today I had worn an extra layer, for extra support. I decided there and then, that I should test out just how supportive this extra layer really was.

I stood on the stool and jiggled lightly and everything seemed to be in order. I jiggled again, harder this time and much to my horror I was no longer supported, but I don't mean my chest, I mean the bloody stool underneath me had a tanty with all the jiggling and came out from underneath me!

I lay on my bedroom floor with my duster still in hand, boobs still supported and a bit shocked. No damage. Went for my run. Boobs were supported.

I hate the term "country girl at heart"

Do you think it’s funny that yesterday I was on the back of a ute tying a ram to the tray so that we could take the fuzz ball to the neighbours to sheer off all its winter woollies?
If you don’t think that’s funny then maybe you need to take your sense of humour to the doctors because it really is funny. For you folk who don’t know, sheep don’t usually transport like dogs on the back of utes. He was bleating at traffic though and I’m certain that he was having a jolly good time.
Another funny was yesterday when I helped my dad push a 7-tonne truck down a hill, twice, so he could attempt to jump start it, twice. Then there is also the funny of me having to steer the beast backwards up a hill as it was being towed, twice.
I’m spending the week in the country with my dad. Currently I’m unemployed and quite frankly I’ll do anything for a quick buck. So if this means summer cleaning a massive, dust infested country house and my dad is willing to pay me $15 an hour to Jiff the crap out of it, then so be it!
The house is next to a dirt road and the dust from the road thinks it’s nicer inside than outside in its natural habitat. I’ve been coughing for two days, but I’m not mad because I go to bed at night knowing that that I am making the house a less allergenic place for my dad to dwell in.
As for the flies, I went postal on their arses with the vacuum cleaner today. They were those slow, lazy blow flies, the ones that you go to swat away but they are so slow that you end up squishing them and then you feeling dirty because you touched something that likes the smell of poo and gives birth to maggots.
It was very pleasant yesterday afternoon when I’d finished dusting the piano piece and sorting through which tea towels my dad was allowed to keep - I sat out on the grass with a beer and soaked in the country air. I then went and visited my dad in his art shed, I stomped all the way there to scare away the snakes.

Short attention span

I thought of something to blog about just before, only maybe 5 minutes ago? I remember that it didn't seem like a very interesting topic but I decided that I'd make it funny when I finally got fingers to keyboard. Unfortunately I opened up the blog page and became distracted with pointless web surfing, which caused me to forget about what I wanted to blog about. It's kind of annoying but I can't be bothered to dwell on it.
This did however lead me to a new topic of discussion to punch out in a short, snappy and mildly entertaining blog post - how my attention span (and yours too) is quickly diminishing because of the bloody internet!
I can't read a flipping book, I am unimpressed when I see that a YouTube clip is longer than 30 seconds and I will only read a long news story if it's about something sick and twisted, otherwise it's just a brisk browse to make sure I can say "Ohh I know!" when people want to have topical conversations.
They say this lack in attention span is to do with us having endless options of content at our fingertips and social spaces like Twitter requiring us to write something awesome in 140 characters or less.
I'm bored of this post, see ya.

Bandaged bear

Once upon a time there was a little bandaged bear. He was pissed off because he was always in the wars. Day after day; one injury after another.
"Cut me some fucking slack!" the bear would growl out loud every time he acquired another injury. "You have got to be joking me! Another broken leg, on top of my broken arm? I'm still recovering from last years broken bones!"
The poor bear was dirty for honey. Just like any bear, he was mad for the stuff. Rumbly tumbly, always wanting to be climbing a honey tree. He never could though, unfortunately for him he was always in hospital. Never any honey trees in there, just a bunch of sick people and a lot of morphine he'd become addicted to.

Don't rob people with no money.

A friend of mine was robbed the last night. Well he wasn't actually robbed because he had nothing worth stealing. However the robber did come into his room and threaten to slice him up before checking his wallet and getting really upset that there was no money in it.

This led me to thinking about how I would react to a situation like this. Although reasonably far fetched, I would definitely be thinking this.

Jess stirs in her sleep as her subconscious alerts her about the person standing in her bedroom doorway. She gasps when she sees the dark silhouette of a tall, half baked man.
"Don't fucking move" screams the angry man "Lie down or I'll stab you in the throat."
"Oh no!" whispers a frantic Jess.
"Where's your money?" demands the man.
"I don't have any money" answers Jess, honestly.
"Where's your fucking money?" the man screams again.
"Seriously I don't have any money!" says a panicked Jess "Here, you can look in my purse if you want."
The robber snatches at her purse and opens it, much to his dismay, there is no money in the purse. "Where do you keep your money?" he screams again, even angrier this time.
At this point Jess is getting a little irritated. Why won't he believe that she doesn't actually have any money? She certainly doesn't look rich, she isn't wearing diamonds to bed or anything.
"Listen dude!" she yells back. "I work in a low paying job, I am in a lot of debt at the moment, all my money goes on my credit card and I don't get paid until next Saturday, OK? There is no fucking money!"
"I don't believe you!"
"I don't care if you don't believe me! I actually resigned from my job on Thursday, I haven't had time to sell anything on Ebay this week. I've just finished AWARD School and I'm really tired. It's so annoying hat you've woken me up by the way, I don't even say hello to Julian when he gets home from work at 1am, what makes you so special?"
The robber doesn't know what to say.
"I have scoliosis, which is really hurting right now, my parents split up 8 years ago and I really need to visit my grandmother before she passes away.
When I was little I had pet goats and I really like sleeping with a hot water bottle in winter. Is it cold outside?"

The robber leaves with no money.