Eggs.


Sometimes I wonder about myself. 

I mean, I think about myself almost 24/7, but sometimes I float out and have a look at myself from the outside. 

This morning I saw a lizard.

I have concluded this morning that along the evolutionary scheme of things, when it comes to eating….I’m not very far along.

*nb none of the following reflects on my upbringing. trust me…i’ve been taught to know better.

I maintain that I’m book smart.. life smart…not so much.

This mornings approach to eggs proved this to me. 

Not only did I have to google how long to cook eggs for (because I didn’t steal the egg timer from mammas && cbf searching through the nest for someone elses)

But I decided to make soft boiled eggs (the best way to have eggs) without owning egg cups to consume them from (probably another thing I should have borrowed from mum)

Nevertheless, I got myself out a plate, as if in some deluded fantasy I might be able to eat my pre-bed snack in some sort of civilized way.

For those of you who are lucky enough to have never been in the kitchen with me at breakfast//egg time…I feel I need to point out my approach to cracking the shells. 

Instead of daintily tapping at the shell with a knife, I’m a smasher.

By smasher I mean I will drop//throw the egg repeatedly on the kitchen counter until the shell is so shattered that it just comes right off. 

For some reason it didn’t register that the insides would be all gooey and I wouldn’t be able to transfer the delicious insides onto my plate and eat them with a spoon in a humanlike fashion. 

Instead after several smashes I realised that the eggs were quite gooey delicious, but also completely impractical. 

So in a lizard like fashion I licked and sucked out the inners, leaving behind the shells on the paper towels I’d laid down to save the kitchen. 

It was halfway through the second egg, as I was drinking the insides, the thought popped into my head… what would my housemate think If she woke up and walked into the kitchen to find me with my tongue in an egg with shells scattered around me..what must I look like.

Lizardy

Perhaps even a Raptor

Not a lady. 

On the upside…the kitchen doesn’t look like its been raided by a starving reptile. 

So its not all bad…

 

Nat ❤

You. Better. Ba-Ring it.


Tonight was the night we’ve all been counting down for. The first team training of 2012. The training that has had us all not knowing what to expect since we learned that we would be coached by our world class//superstar choreographer from 2011.

Personally, I was crapping myself….all holidays..

Even though I’ve been competing on and off for 8 years now, I’m quite the sped gymnast, and am nowhere near as skilled as some of the ah-mazing peeps at my gym.

I’ll admit I caught myself a few times thinking that I hadn’t earnt my place on an Elite 4 team. That I wasn’t good enough, and somehow I’d managed to trick my coaches into thinking I had what it takes. And that after one practice they’d see right through me and send me right back to L3.

Being the last one to get in to the gym didn’t really make me feel any better.

But within 5 minutes // before I’d even had time to think, I was chucking standing backs like I wasn’t even scared of eating carpet (oh god how I was).

Tonight. We brought it.

I didn’t think for a second that there was anything I couldn’t do, as such…there was a lot of crazy, but there’s no other way to get better.

There were a few tears, a bucketload of sweat, and a lot of appreciation for the pedestal fans. And I don’t know about anyone else, but I left that gym knowing that I can be the best, that we can be the best, and thanks to the adrenaline//delirium, I felt like I could have survived another 3 hours of training.

So as I count down the minutes until I do it all again, with my body covered in ice packs. I’ll finish with the best advice I’ve ever been given. Find something you love, and immerse yourself in it. Whether its Cheer, knitting, cats, collecting spoons, WHATEVER.

Get involved.

❤ Nat

Conquering the Christmas Muffin


At the beginning of season last year, we all set ourselves 3 goals, read them out put them in a time capsule yada yada etc.

Now out of the 3 of mine, I’ve really only achieved 2. And what’s funny is that the one I failed miserably at is the only thing I thought I’d be able to do.

My first goal was to get a lot better at tumbling. Now I specifically left this one open and didn’t name the skills I wanted cause I think I’m a pretty useless gymnast and didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment.

Although I’m entirely sure I scraped in by the skin of my teeth, this year I have gained enough tumbling skills to have scored a place on the fiercest level 4 team out. Which excites and scares me greatly. Having said that, I worked my butt off, face planted many.. many times and ate a lot of blue carpet. And I can’t wait to do it all again this year.

My second goal was that my teammates would become like family to me. At this stage I was still competing with Cheersport Australia, a club I’ve been with for years, with teammates who love each other more than life. I guess at first I was worried I wouldn’t get there with my new team, as many of them already knew each other from other clubs. However, I’ve made some of the most amazing friends and had the most amazing time with the Zoo Crew && I can’t wait to do it all again this year.

My third and final goal//the one I thought I’d be able to achieve quite easily was to have ‘Top Gun abs’ by Nationals//just generally be anywhere near as awesome as them would be fine with me.

In the month before Nationals last year I stocked up like a mother. Tank, not flab. But still not TG worthy.

Today I learnt I’ve gained 4-5 kg’s.

About an hour later I was in the lunchroom inhaling donuts and chips….

And I’m writing this while polishing off half a pizza with extra cheese base delicious.

See my main problem is, I’m in the mindset that because I’m an athlete, I can eat like a fat manbearpig. Unfortunately, hitting the gym once or twice over holidays, or ever when I was training 7 days does not equal regular pizza && pasta gorges with no repercussions.

Not to mention the chips, lollies, chocolates, budget junk dinners etc. etc.

My theory is that now that I no longer live in the parental nest that I will have the willpower to only buy good food.

My parents are angels, but there is soooooo much unhealthy tempting delicious stuff in that pantry. I stopped off home last night to pick up some cups and my loofah and left with mouthfuls of marshmallows and an armful of packet pasta.

So my promise to you all and myself (Its on the internet so it’s permanent) is to actually take care of myself and eat well so I can look totally bangin….which benefits everyone, and have the energy and ability to get rad skills to continue to entertain you all…not that it isnt mass funny when I stack it….

Starting tomorrow…. (as hand reaches for the lolly tin)

❤ Nat

 

The final gorge.


Im now in my last week at the parental nest. I’ve found a new one, with real grown ups, and a pool. As such. I will become a real grown up…with a pool.

So I’m taking this opportunity to gorge on the plethora of junk food contained in the parental nest.  Being a poor uni student, my post-parental diet will surely consist of two minute noodles, cat food, and beans.

So due to the fact I will be unable to justify and//or afford junk food when I leave home, I’m taking full advantage of the opportunity to inhale as much as possible over the next few days.

Including, but not limited to, chocolate as a staple for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Dorito’s and dessert spoonfuls of nutella for second lunch.

And jatz && dip for second dinner.

Apologies to all if I get fat and//or repulsive.

Nat 🙂

Nest Hunt


So as some of you may know, I am on the hunt for a new nest. Which as such has led to several conversations about the type of nest I want to relocate to, and what other inhabitants I’d like to live with.

My first comment was. “I don’t want to live with ugly people”. And no offense to any potential roomies, but generally, if you’re frightfully unattractive and//or smell weird, you’re likely to be a social retard and I don’t think we’ll have much in common.

My friend then pointed out,  “you don’t want to live with hot people either, things could get weird.” And I agree completely. I would hate life for sure if I lived in a house full of supermodel types. My days would be spent in my room, hating life and raging at god for not blessing me with perfect genetics or at least the desire to brush my hair and wear makeup more than twice a week.

So yeah, normal people would be great. I could deal with normal, awesome people.

but

I don’t want to share a bed with you.

Problem number two, there appears to be a trend in student sharehousing for not only sharing a house, but also sharing a room.

In one case, a bed.

I checked out this amazing looking house today, even to look at I was like ‘out of my price range//there’s a catch here.’

The catch being, share a bed with a Taiwanese girl I don’t even know, and my only “solo space” being my desk.

I’m sure she’s lovely. But my bed is reserved for “boyfie” and my giant rabbit. I feel the only people who should have to endure me while I sleep (&& snore//dribble like the world is ending) are people I’m dating or giant stuffed animals.

I also don’t like the idea of having a random sleeping in a separate bed in the corner of my room which appears to be another trend.

“You’ll have the room to yourself, but a complete stranger will come and go//just sleep here. He doesn’t need any space.”

No thanks.

My last issue is that I don’t want to live in a scrub shack that smells weird and is busted up and dirty.

Which rules out living with about 85% of the male population.  (No offence boys, but you’re all pretty gross.)

I’m now at a point where I have ruled out living in around 90% of the student accommodation available. And so I continue my search for the holy grail of share housing.

I also wish myself luck.

So to my future housemates, I look forward to meeting you, maybe I met you today, maybe I’ll never meet you, pike out, and continue living in the parental back yard. But I doubt it. Most of all, stay cool. And hygienic. If you get ugly or dirty…we can’t be friends.

❤ Nat

p.s If you’ve read this far, I’m sure you have an opinion. >>Comment<<

Hello world!


Well hello Blogosphere.

As per one of few New Years resolutions I made, I’ve become one of those new age hipster types and started a blog. The logic being that if I plan to have someone pay me to rant in the future by means of my own column//show//world, I should probably get some practice in making the general minutiae of my life seem relatively interesting and entertaining.

As such…

Nothing worth writing about has happened thus far in 2012.

Stay tuned.

Nat ❤

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