"Many commonly used kitchen implements are a threat to health and should be thrown away, scientists have warned.

Washing up bowls and re-usable dish clothes are thought to be a particularly good breeding ground for bugs."

The article is from December 2000. If I'd seen it at the time it may have killed my longing to move to the UK, especially with this quote from Professor Hugh Pennington of the University of Aberdeen, one of Britain's leading infection experts:

"I would like to get rid of washing-up bowls altogether. They are an absolute menace."

"I have a feeling that if you've only seen blogs in the past five years (which is probably 95+% of people reading blogs today) you consider comments to be de rigueur and they are entirely divorced from the original concept of a conversation between the reader and the author of the original post. It's not an intimate conversation, it's just another content management feature available to you on the web.

This has a de-humanizing effect that I'm seeing play out more and more often in the weirdest places. People will post about their idle curiosities on their personal blog ("Why does x happen when I do y?") and instead of seeing friendly answers I would expect many years ago, I'll often see someone early on read into the question and assume all sorts of accusations ("well, maybe it's because you are a, b, and c, and everyone knows it!") and watch most followup comments start from there and go into darker directions."

Well, you do see more moronic semi-literate bawbags popping up these days, but it seems to be mostly on really mega personal blogs of Dooceian proportions. I have more issues with shameless pimpsters that skim one entry and write, Great Post, Shauna! This reminds me of my stupid diet pills / miracle face cream/ revolutionary health website which is 10,000 times more infuriating than the olden days of automated comment spam, because at least that was done by a machine!

At least with the blogs I stalk... there is plenty o' cosy chit chat goodness to be found. And here - 105 comments debating the merits of washing dishes in a plastic bowl? That's the sort of thing that makes you want to hump the internet with ecstasy.

ARRGHHHH! This weekend, for sure.

Thirty rhymes with dirty, flirty and shirty and that’s my official age now. Woohoo!

Last night we reluctantly boarded the flight back to Edinburgh at 7.40PM New York time, which happened to be 10.40AM on November 1st back in beloved Australia — spookily, the precise time I disembarked The Mothership back in 1977.

If I had enough energy I’d write a proper post prattling on about this magnificient milestone, and how everyone keeps reassuring me that their thirties have been their dazzling prime. Instead I’ve been frowning at this wee tube of anti-aging creme that the kind folks at Liz Earle Skincare chucked in for free with my latest order.

I also looked back at each of my birthday blog entries for the past seven years (see sidebar) and felt all warm and schmoogly remembering all you lovely Commenters Throughout The Ages. And I reckon I’m in a much better frame of mind than when I started writing here aged 22.5. The blog is not so much a thinly disguised distress call now. I think we’re all going to be juuuuust fine!

According to some new statistics, Scotland is now the second fattest nation in the world behind the USA.

All I can say to our friends across the pond is… watch out. We have the deep-fried pizzas and Mars Bars and we’re not afraid to use them. The coveted Number One spot shall be ours some day.

In other news, after six weeks of swearing and tinkering I’ve managed to convert this stinking blog to the MT4 templates. And for all that effort all I give you is… exactly the same bloody template you’ve been staring at since 2002. At least now there’s no tables!

There are bugs here and there that I need to iron out but THE COMMENTS ARE WORKING NOW hurrah hurrah hurrah. Proper entry soon but for now I’m away to my bed.

I have been using Movable Type since 2001. My good friend Daniel installed it on my server waaay back in the beta beginning when there was Ben and Mena in their living room and a handful of other testers. And I have remained faithful and devoted ever since, through thick and thin and Trackback spam.

But now with MT4 I just want to curl up and howl and wave the white flag. My host upgraded me a few weeks ago and everything seemed fine; I was loving the sexy new interface. Now I’ve got all these Server 500 errors with the comments and I have no idea why. It was working fine after the upgrade and then suddenly it wasn’t.

Hello folks. My lovely webhosts upgraded me to Movable Type v4 last week and I've only just noticed that everything is cactus now. Something is up with the comment templates and I have no idea how to fix it. And I was feeling pouty because noone was commenting, but turns out comments have been received, just not published. ARRRGH. Help. Bollocks. I'll try and sort it today.

This blog has been a stinking pit of neglect this year and my humble apologies to anyone still out there. I was completely burn out by other projects but now I'm almost recharged and determined to flex the typing fingers again. Thanks for sticking around, sticky people :)

In other news, I bagged my first munro last week, hurrah!

Arrgh! Once again I seem to have half a dozen half-finished entries that are all rubbish. At least I have a good excuse today - I'm dog sitting! It was a dog sitting emergency. They belong to the parents of a friend of Gareth's and they arrived at 6AM this morning. I don't even know their names! They just sit on the couch shivering and staring at me with saucer eyes. They didn't even try to steal my lunch. Strange hounds. But cute.

UPDATE:  Turns out the wee dugs are called Toby and Tibby. They're brother and sister and a crusty twelve years old. As the day wore on they got a lot more animated and friendly, even after we dragged them up a hill for a two-hour walk in the pouring bloody rain. They've gone home now but have their memory lingers thanks to the 10,000,000 white hairs now coating every surface of our flat and car.

This blog turns the ripe old age of SEVEN today! Hurrah!

It's crazy thinking of all the things that have happened over the last seven years and how this old girl kept rattling on throughout, sporadic and oft neglected. And it's now been five years since the last redesign.

Here's a random list of Seven Things That Are In My Life Now That Weren't There Seven Years Ago.

1. Green & Blacks
2. Test Match Special
3. MotoGP
4. Mogwai
5. Regular exercise
6. Doctor G
7. "Doctor" Gillian McKeith (and how I miss those innocent times)

How's about you?

I saw the picture of wee William just now and can't stop blubbering. He's so cute and doesn't look a thing like his namesake. Congratulations, Jane and Rory!

The day of the rouge snoz has arrived and so has Shaggy Blog Stories! The book is stuffed with 100 wacky tales from across the British blogland, how can you go wrong?

There's even a contribution from me, although if you were hanging around here in 2004 you may well have read it before. But why not buy it anyway; there's 99 other stories that should keep you amused for hours. Most importantly you'll be raising funds for Comic Relief, woohoo!

Have you met the Friends for Life hounds? From the website: "Friends for Life recognises and celebrates the difference that dogs can make to their owners lives, be it through bravery, support or companionship."

There's a video of the shortlisted doggies and I'm begging ye to watch it! It's only five minutes; much shorter than a MotoGP race. The must-see bit is at 4:10 where you will meet nine-year-old Nye Thomas. He fell thirty feet into a river and broke both his arms, but was rescued by his trusty dog Bud. Gareth and I have watched Nye about 25 times now. His accent makes me bust a gut every time, and he has an hilarious turn of phrase.

"When Bud rescued me I was like... ohhh, flip. This is one strong dog. I was just amazed. I mean, how is he pulling me up like? I'm nine, and he's only eight!

If Bud wasn't there I might be in heaven, I might be in hell. I don't where I might be. I might be in a hostebal."

. . .

Are you a UK blogger? Are you funny? Are you feeling charitable?

Mike at Troubled Diva came up with a great idea for Comic Relief's Red Nose Day - he's putting together a book in a week, full of funny Britblogger tales called Shaggy Blog Stories. You can submit your most amusing blog entry if you're a Brit in Britain, a Brit overseas, or even one of those pesky Almost-Permanent-Residents who are currently tearing their flat apart looking for no less than twenty pieces of evidence proving to the pedantic Home Office bastards that their marriage is not a sham.

Mike's mission to pull off this "collaborative blog-stunt" in just seven days. It will be printed on lulu.com and all money raised by the sales (minus the lulu fees) will go to Comic Relief. More details here!

Dear comrades, I'm taking a wee break from WNP. And that's wee as in small and brief. I mean, I'm not bursting for the loo or anything.

Back in a jiffy!

It is just too bloody easy to get out of a blogging rhythm, don't you think? As Homer Simpson says, "Never to do today what you can put off until tomorrow."

I've been busy Thinking Thin on over yonder but now I've got to get back to the Cat. In the meantime, how the hell are you doing?

It is wild and windy oot there, folks. If you're heading into Edinburgh for the Hogmanay celebrations, good luck! We're going to a party around the corner but I am fighting the urge to just stay in the bathrobe and read a book.

How was your 2006? Mine was a goodun and I'm looking forward to working hard and moving forward in 2007. Happy new year, folks!

To everyone back home, I really miss youse all.

This week in Blogland feels dead, like the non-ratings summer period you get on Australian telly where it's all Macgyver and M*A*S*H repeats. So while it is quiet I shall write about my favourite things from 2006. And there's nothing you can do to stop me!

First up: BLOGS.

There are so many sailors on the sea of blogs these days, how does one pluck a few favourites out of the water? I like a blogger with a strong voice and a sense of humour. I like reading about lives far removed from my own, or people who are opinionated where I am fluffy, or people who are good at things at which I am crap. I like bloggers who are far more intelligent than me, when I'm too scared to leave comments so just sit in awed silence. And sometimes most of all, I like to make the first cuppa of the day then sip and read about people cooking good things, while I wonder how long it is until I can reasonably eat my lunch.

For the past three years November has been the month where I just sulked beneath the doona/duvet/comforter (choose your language!) and waited for Christmas to arrive, because at least then the cold and dark were offset by parties and presents.

But this year I am determined to not be a whinging git and keep myself busy. Among my Acts of Busy-ness will be NaNoWriMo, the 50,000 word Quantity Not Quality novel-writing thingo. I'm doing it in an unofficial capacity, since I've already started and that is against the rules. But I like writing under pressure and it will be good to churn some words out for the aforementioned Dietgirl draft. Let us hope it is more successful than my 2001 NaNo effort, Not The Greatest Story Ever Told.

Just to add to the insanity, I signed up for Ms Fussy's NaBloPoMo thingy, in which you have to write a blog entry every day in November. Considering I have averaged about four entries per month this year, it will be fun to force myself to write fast and furious. It will hardly be Blogging Gold but it's about time I stopped angsting and arseing about with those dozen half-done entries and spewed out some new shit. So be sure to check back daily and nag me if it looks like I'm slacking off. Huzzah!

I'm going away for a couple of days so I just wanted get in early and say a very happy birthday to my wee brother James, who turns 18 on Sunday. I am sure it was only yesterday he was a screaming baby but now he's over six feet tall and almost officially adult. He has the most compelling MySpace page ever, even though it makes me feel like I am seven hundred years old. It contains words like "crew" and "bitches" and never fails to crack me up. Happy Birthday tiger. You are a legend. :)

. . .

Can I ask a question for an Aussies out there? Where do you do your online shopping these days? For books, music, or groovy presents in general. I am out of touch but I'd like to know where I can get the goods for folks back home.

And if you're not Australian... hmmm... a question for you so no one feels left out. Ummm. What colour are your undies today? What are you doing on the weekend? Oooh, two questions!

So there were a few hundred carefully worded words sitting in my Gmail Drafts folder and what did I just do? I hit the Discard Draft button instead of the Save button and didn't realise until I'd clicked onto some other emails, making it far too late to Undo. Is there any shittier feeling than hours of precious drivel zapping off into the ether? All that rage and nowhere to direct it because it's your own stinking fault. Off to bed. Try again tomorrow.

After all these years I finally figured something out yesterday. Why lever-arch folders have those big holes in the spine. It's so you can hook your finger inside and easily remove them from the shelf!

What ingenuity! And all this time I thought it was a wee porthole for the papers to peep out of.

Sadly, this has been the state of my brain this week. Almost as profound as the day I discovered the marvellous invention that is the staple remover.

Apologies for all the waffle and obituaries lately. I shall reboot brain and post properly on the weekend.

Now that has to be the worst entry title of all time. But it's summer, at least it has been for the past couple of days. My brain is fried so I will be back shortly with all these half-finished entries ready for public consumption!

Killer Sheep of Wanlockhead

Just so you know, comrades... I can SEE the words you type into that search box there on the left. Lately there's been a few names that are real blasts from the past, and it's amusing to see people searching for themselves.

And which of my former Australian bosses keeps searching for "boss"? I never had a boss I didn't like, so you won't find any bitchin' here!

Anyway people. There's no need to lurk. Say hello. Leave a comment! Write an email!

I am still the approachable clod you once knew.

What's New Pussycat turns six this week. What keeps a blog alive for so long, aside from sporadic updates and stale design?

Comments, that's what. While you current folks are always golden, the real madness comes from random Google visitors and their comments on ancient posts. Years after an entry has passed its relevancy, people stumble in, skim read, then spout off. Some commenters seek advice. Some commenters give advice. Some just want you to know that they vehemently disagree with your opinion of half a decade ago.

Unfortunately I had to kill off this source of entertainment. While Movable Type has excellent spam fighting tools these days, and my thousands of comment spams were banished to a Junk folder, the extreme load on the server drained my bandwidth. So I closed comments on old entries.

In memory of my beloved comment-come-latelys, here's a few choice highlights.

The Funeral Business - September 2001
The Mothership went through a brief crackpot phase of coming up with small business ideas to help fund her retirement. First she was going to start a mobile adult toy store, a Bookmobile-style vehicle bringing vibrators and ben wa balls to deprived citizens of remote areas of New South Wales.

The next brainwave was to start a funeral business run entirely by women as they are apparently more compassionate. The result - fifteen commenters over four years, seeking or offering advice on how to get the show on the road.

Hi there, my name is xeng, i am interested in building a funeral home business for the hmong community. However, i don't know much about what to do, how to start, and what to expect. If you know, and would like to share, it would be a pleasure. Thank You, Xeng Yang
Posted by XENG YANG on March 30, 2003

Hello, Death - October 2001
Australian children of the 80s will remember student news show Behind The News. BTN was universally loathed as we had to pay attention and do worksheets afterwards. One of my classmates hated presenter Richard Morecroft so much that she stood on a chair, hurled pencils at the screen and screamed, "I HATE YOU RICHARD MORECROFT AND I WANT YOU TO DIE!".

She must not have wanted it enough, for he went on to present the ABC news and all sorts of wildlife documentaries. In what is probably my most cherished WNP comment ever, the man himself wandered in a few years later. Don't try and tell me it's not the real Richard Morecroft. So polite, so articulate, so balanced!

I very much enjoyed reading this piece... really - I did. I also really used to enjoy working on BTN, but I had no idea of the pain it caused Melissa and her classmates!
Posted by Richard Morecroft on May 26, 2004

Cats Stuck Up Trees - May 2001
Inane entry about seeing a local TV anchor at the gym sparks a dozen folk asking for advice on how to get their moggie down. The last comment was particularly heart-wrenching:

I see plenty cries (or is that meows) for help, but no answers!? My cat is stuck up a 25 metre gum ... He's only a kitten and the horrid dog next door chased him up there - the tree is in the neighbour's garden!!!!!!!!! What happened to the cats that feature on this site? Any stories of hope?????? Do they come down????
Posted by Judy on September 2, 2005

Gene Simmons - April 2001
I posted a photo of my dog Harry with his tongue hanging out like the KISS bassman. Two years later came this classic comment:

I am looking for a talent agent to help me exploit my talent and I meet peter [Criss, KISS drummer] when he was up in tahoe in 93 I need someone to help me find a realband that is career motivated and has what it takes to go to the top! thanks Gene for your time and consideration
Mark /Bam Bam
Posted by Mark Steffens/Drummer on June 24, 2003

Get Skinny With Portia - February 2002
I had a dream in which slender actress Portia di Rossi launched a cookbook of the above title. I even dreamed the back cover blurb: Hello. I'm Portia de Rossi. It has always been my aim in life to weigh as little as humanly possible. Let this be your mission too. Put down your chocolate bars and get cooking with me.

For years there was a steady trickle of teen visitors begging Portia for her diet secrets. Many of them are quite troubling and sad, but I liked this one:

HEY BABES!!! IF YOU ARE NOT PERFECT IT DOESENT MATTER!!!!!! LOVE YOURSELF FOR WHO YOU ARE AND EVERY TIME U EAT SOMTHING NAUGHTY, BE HAPPY, IF U ARE NOT HAPPY YOUR BODY WONT BE HAPPY!!!!! NO ONE IS PERFECT!!!!!!!
Rock on,
Tanya

And then last year this guy lost it:

Do you people realize that there is no such book as "Get Skinny With Portia"?? This story is just a joke and if you had even a minute semblance of a brain you might understand it. I am so sick of ignorance and just well, plain stupidity. Please learn how to spell too you moronic, self-absorbed, media-obsessed dumb-asses...
Posted by ben dover on July 23, 2005

Everybody Hates Raymond - August 2002
Although my petition to outlaw Everybody Loves Raymond failed miserably despite 91 passionate supporters, the sheer venom directed at the show raged on:

Everyone hates ramen sucks. I'm so hatefull of the show that I just did a search on the internet which brought me to this site. I searched for "everyone loves raymond sucks"...
The first time I watched it I saw this raymond guy acting like a little boy to who seemed to be his mother, by the way she was talking to him. After a while I figured out that was his wife. Maybe it's a Oedipus complex that interests some people in this show?? that's my only guess.
Posted by RELON on December 28, 2003

And sometimes, not.

I LOVE Everyone loves raymond and I think its a really good show for many people that have a borening life like me. I laugh and I cry and enjoy everyone on the show expecially raymond and his brother. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK. AMERY WISCONSIN LOVES YOU
Posted by A on November 5, 2004.

Soul Shite - November 2000
Legendary Australian rocker Jimmy Barnes will be pleased that while I slagged off his cheesy album of soul covers, a devoted fan came to his defence, albeit four years too late. This ranks high amongst my all-time favourite comments because you can just hear the flannel shirt and Victoria Bitterness in his words:

shit mate I must have missed your #1 record last time I was at the record shop...... Then I look further down and see that you are from Canberra, and that explains it all. Wanker...
Posted by juddster on August 6, 2004

WNP's 6th Birthday is hereby dedicated to commenters both past and present, young and old, sane and clearly otherwise. Thank you all!

Local Entertainment for the Contiki Crowd. Yartsevo, Russia 2004.

Cheers for the comments, comrades! I don't know if people see my comments on the comments so I thought I'd say thanks separately! It was so good to reconnect with folk from yesteryear and meet some new faces. Best of all, no one new from the Real World has outed themselves. So now I can happily go back to living in denial!

This blog is like a dinky little country town where the population never changes. Some people die, some new ones are born to replace them; and now and then a few strangers breeze in from the city and the locals look up from their beers and give them the stink eye. But thanks to the infrequent updates, the overall number always evens out beautifully in the end. It's been pretty stable for years now, except for that one glorious day in 2002 when the lovely Dooce made me a member of her fantasy all girl blog-rock band and the hit counter crapped itself.

Lately I've been thinking about the population of this wee metropolis. Do you ever wonder where internet people go? You meet so many interesting characters through the old computer screen, but so many end up disappearing into the ether. Every now and then an old 'face' will just pop into your head. Sometimes you'll remember fondly, other times you cringe. Either way you wonder what happened to them. Whether they got bald or rich or hitched or if they legally changed their name to ~DarkWolfe75~.

I think about Commenters of Yesteryear and why they went quiet. Did they go offline for good? Did I offend them? Did they stop reading when I sold out and got married? Or are they still reading, but being all quiet and lurkersome about it?

I also think about the Real World People. Back in Oz last year, I was alarmed to hear all these friends and family say breezily, "Oh yes, I've been reading for years!". What?! How did you find me? Who taught you to use Google? How could you not tell me that you'd discovered my sad, secret internerd life?

So when I add up the Real Life People and the Regular Commenters, there's still a lot of people unaccounted for. Which makes me worry, are there more Real Life People out there? Perhaps they're among the masses who stumble in having searched for 'trampoline sex', 'accounting love letter' or 'Pall Mall Monopoly pronouncement', then realise they're arrived at the site of that moron they used to know.

If you're out there, why not say hello? Just send an email with a memory-jogging subject like:

• Remember me from Brownies?
• Remember that time I loaned you two dollars for the canteen?
• Remember how you were the worst piano student ever?
• Remember how you were an inarticulate dope at university?
• Remember when we worked at KFC and we got it on in the storeroom and there was flour and secret herbs and spices flying all over the place?

OH YEAH, that one only happened in my head.

Just don't email to say how much this entry sucks, because I already know :)

How pathetic is this going to sound? I can't type. I have this stupid shoulder that I hurt in 2001 in a Repetitive Mousing Incident and every now and then it flares up if I do too much typing or miscellaneous computering. Don't know what I've done this time but it's agony and I feel like crying, which makes me cranky coz as a redhead I'm supposed to have a very high pain tolerance. I am betraying my species! The evil actually starts on the side of my neck then burns into the shoulder and shoots down behind my elbow and into the forearm before crippling the wrist and fingers. The joints are all pop and crackle. I started writing this entry on paper and was going to scan it in but that hurt too and my handwriting stinks anyway. So I will go to the doc on Monday or find a physio and in the meantime I am going to stop being such a moany wimpy bastard. It is so naff to say you were crippled by a mouse. I would rather have been bitten by a crocodile, at least the public could sympathise with that. Take care, comrades.

I've been on holidays for two days now, so that's two days I've been trying to write a new entry. Two days I've been watching crappy television, drinking port and generally surrendering to Slug Mode. This is my first Scottish Christmas where I have not spent all Christmas, Boxing and New Years Days working at Geriatric Rescue. So I just want to wallow in this beautiful nothingness of dark wintery days off. WALLOW, I tell you.

I resolve to tackle the backlog of writing in the new year. It is ridiculous to have so much one could write, but to have not got off ones ample arse to write it. I have a list right here. Oh yes. I will chain myself to the desk if necessary.

Merry Christmas, you lot! Tell me about your presents...

As soon as I have finished looking at every single picture on HEL LOOKS I will post something new. This entry is just so that the one about shagging isn't at the top of the page. Hee!

Why haven't I written anything? Because I've spent all bloody week trying to catch up on what you've been writing. I subscribe to far too many feeds on Bloglines and came home to 5000 unread items. I got down to about 3000 before my arse turned numb and my eyeballs threatened to explode. Not to mention completely losing touch with the real world. If anything really exciting has happened to you in the past month, please tell me in the comments because I just cannae go on like this, hen.

I did like the look of the Need Meme, where you type "[Your name] needs" into the Goog and see what it throws up:

Shauna needs help!

Shauna needs to uncover why Dr. Hipster was murdered and incidentally, who Rudy from West Sacramento is.

Shauna needs to go back to school.

Sexy young Shauna needs cock.

I dont think Shauna needs the mean comments.

Shauna needs a giraffe!!

Shauna needs deliverance from lust, and seduction!

Shauna needs to retire.

Shauna needs a stalker.

Shauna needs to discipline you.

Perhaps Shauna needs to show Miss Hickerson what to do.

(Crikey!)

If you can see this message then my domain thingy has been transferred. Huzzah! I have switched hosts and have been upgraded to Movable Type 3.2.

Thanks to Pavel at LivingDot hosting for all your help shifting this clunky old mess. I've been pissfarting around for six weeks cleaning out my archives - deleting spam comments, fixing broken links, sorting images and even re-publishing some stuff I'd taken offline in moments of angst and panic. Anyway, with over 10,000 comments the normal Export Entries thing kept shitting itself, so Pavel kindly moved my database and got the blog running again. I have asked about ten gazillion stupid questions throughout this process and always received prompt replies. Cheers mate!

Hopefully now you should be able to comment freely, without fear of rejection and 500 Server Errors! Woohoo.

I am really bloody sick of not enjoying this. All sorts of stupid stuff has been getting on my tits for months and months leading to this blog becoming a steaming pit of neglect. Examples:

• All the nasty weirdoes who came out of the woodwork post-Bloggie
• The server being pounded so hard by comment spammers that no real people could leave comments
• Templates and design that were slick and sweet in 2002 now bloated and buggy behind the scenes
• The discovery that a whole bunch of people read this site that I didn't realise read this site (hello Mothership and 5 billion of your friends!)
• My virtual life being totally outed at work via a large national newspaper and some unfortunate Googling
• Just being sick of the sound of my own typing, really.

My policy has always been never to blog about blogging and to only write if I have something to say, thus hopefully avoiding sounding like a wanker. But this has backfired on me, because now I worry so much about who and how many are reading and that what I want to say is too rubbish/unfunny/personal/Boring Married Person that I've reached the point where I am not writing anything at all.

And since I didn't want anyone to know I was worried about this, I've been sulking and skulking and letting the discontent grow. This blog is like that really messy spare room in your house, crammed with old magazines and boardgames and boxes of funny-smelling clothes that don't quite fit; the room you know you should do something about but you just shut the door and go watch telly instead.

At this point folk may be wondering, who cares? This is just a blog, you indulgent little twat, and there are people floating around in New Orleans who have real worries. But please just allow me this one moment of contemplation, I haven't done it much in the past five years.

Blogging for me has never been about Blogging in the traditional sense. Some people fuss over site stats and blogroll politics and inter-blog fights and Technorati rankings and awards. For me the blog just happens to be the medium that came along that let me write the stupid stories. Ever since I was a horrible ginger child I've been compelled to write down stuff that happens and share it with people. I grew up and decided the best way to pursue that was with a journalism degree, but of course got a rude shock when I discovered you had to use facts and talk to people and not make shit up when you're a journalist. So after three miserable years of that, the only writing I did was to invent jobs for my dole form. Then one day in 2000 I found Heather Champ's site, and wondered what that little Blogger logo was at the bottom of the page. So I signed up and discovered I could write something, press a button then POW, it was out there for the world to see! It was much easier publishing process than the old days, where I would have to write words on bits of paper and ask mum to borrow the stapler so I could staple it all into a book then harrass her, "Read my book! Read my book! Please please please!". So the whole blogging thing gave me such a rush I actually shivered.

That's what blogging is about for me, the rush. Yes I have been lucky to gather some readers and that bloody Bloggie and whatnot, but very selfishly I just did it because writing gives me the horn. I love being mid-entry, when there's just bunches of random sentences all over the page and I have to figure out how to string them all together. Sometimes it's all formed perfectly in my head and I'm purely transcribing; sometimes I wrestle with it for days, even weeks. Either way, once I hit publish and the little blob of text appears, I just grin to myself and go hee hee hee hee and feel like I've smoked something really good.

By now you're thinking I'm a complete wanker, or you may be disturbed knowing that some silly little story that takes you ten seconds to read is something that leaves me wildly excited like I just saw sexy Ed from Radiohead wearing nowt but a figleaf. But I just wanted to let you know why this blog is important to me so you can understand why I am so bummed that I feel bummed about it lately.

I'm not saying I am some brilliant precious writer type, just simply I like doing it and I feel lost when I'm not. I get frustrated and cranky and hump cushions. This blog is my treasured little place to store funny stuff that happens, so I can remember it or maybe use it for something later on. Yet for the reasons described earlier, I've just let it slide and it is making me batty.

Last week I read Rebecca's Blood interview with the most excellent Dooce. This here bit (my italics) was real a smack in the chops:

"Some days I feel my website writing itself, and those days are so much easier than the days when I sit there grasping for one word or one sentence that will not come out, and I'm like, BOTH ENDS ARE STOPPED UP. I find that the more I write the easier it is to write the next time, and the longer I wait in between posts the more stopped up I become.

Thanks Doctor Heather. The solution is clear, just bloody write. I'm tired of feeling self-conscious and apathetic. I'm tired of pretending I don't care, and most of all I'm tired of editing the life out of stories or being too afraid to write them in the first place.

To start with, this blog needs a spring clean. I might find it more inviting if the house is in order. I can't keep waiting for the Fairy Blogmother to come along so I'm getting off my arse and do the geeky crap I've been putting off for years. I am tidying up the archives. I am sorting five years of images into folders instead one giant puddle. I am moving to a new server. I am upgrading my Movable Type thingy. I hope to get this all done before we leave for Oz in two weeks time, though that may be a little optismistic.

But when I get back up from Down Under, I am going to try and forget about all the people watching and just learn to enjoy this shit again.

We were checking out this Sydney map today:

"Shark POINT!? Shark ISLAND?!" Gareth sqwarked, "There's a Shark ISLAND and Shark POINT on the same little map!"

"Yep."

"I can't believe you want me to go somewhere infested with SHARKS and COOGEES."

"Yep, gotta watch out for the coogees."

Thank you for the most excellent suggestions for our Australian jaunt. Cop a look at that list, people! You could hardly complain of being bored in the land Down Under. At the very least, you won't go hungry.

Apologies to those having problems leaving comments. My MT-Blacklist is out of control and I think I will need to uninstall then reinstall it. Or wipe the List clean and start again. As soon as I figure out how to do that I'll let you know. But in the meantime don't forget that it's optional to leave an email or URL, so if it's being an arse just leave those fields blank.

Attention Aussies! Or anyone who's ever been to Australia! I'm trying to figure out what to do during our Oz trip in October. Aside from watching Gareth's eyes glaze over as he's introduced to yet another family member, that is. If he's not completely overwhelmed by that and/or the dazzling sunshine, I'm determined to show off our fair country as much as possible.

Due to time and budget constraints we're limited to the east coast, specifically Melbourne, Canberra, Brisbane, Sydney and a good chunk of rural NSW where my family live. The only definite plans we have are a trip to Australia Zoo (Gareth is an ardent admirer of Steve Irwin and wants to see some crocs and snakes and other DANGEROUS creatures) near Brisbane, and the Philip Island MotoGP on October 16. We're heading back to the UK from Melbourne right after that.

I admit my knowledge of these cities is utterly rubbish. I've never been to Brisbane, twice briefly to Melbourne and only to Sydney for specific events like concerts. So if anyone out there could chuck a few ideas our way that would be good. Things to do, places to eat and drink, and accommodation that won't break the bank.

Gareth is very easy to please. He's never been to Oz before so just wants get a feel for the place and see the iconic sights. Neither of us are real museum-y type of people, but we usually try to go to at least one per trip so we can sound learned to our friends. Instead Gareth has a soft spot for things that are quite, well... crap and cheesy. Like the Big Merino and Big Potato are high on our list of things to see.

As for me, I want to know where's good for breakfast. What's a good bakery? Where's the best place for hot chocolate? And sushi? And ice cream? Okay, I know it sounds like I'm a total lardarse, but I have been eating cucumbers that come wrapped in two layers of plastic for the past 2.5 years and I cannae wait to get my mitts on some Aussie grub!

I'm also thinking maybe driving from Canberra to Melbourne for the last week of the trip so we can wander through the countryside, which is pretty much how we like to travel here in Scotland except it will be brown instead of green. Any ideas on a good route to take? Coastal or inland?

I know I'm way oot of touch as to what's hip-hop-happening at home, so any ideas or suggestions would be greatly appreciated! Failing that I will just harrass my mates then sit on The Mothership's couch and eat Mint Slices til I spew.

Thanks :)

Yesterday marked five years since What's New Pussycat started. It may actually have been slightly earlier but I went on a deleting spree in 2001 when I coverted from Blogger to Movable Type. Nine hundred entries were purged! Can you believe I used to write that often? And my installation of MT was so ye olde that you could only delete ONE ENTRY AT A TIME. It took me weeks and they released an upgrade the day after I was finished. Bastards.

Five years on, there's signs this blog is letting itself go. In 2000 I redesigned ten times; but now I've had the same template since 2002. There's dead links and broken images galore. I get 2000 comment and trackback spams a day, 95% of which are blocked by MT Blacklist but the load on the server is so great that many folk can't comment because the pages time out. Either that or their comment gets blocked because I went too crazy adding words to the blacklist and have inadvertently banned perfectly innocent phrases.

So from a technical and aesthetic perspective WNP looks like it is wallowing in mid-life crisis, stopped-trying, frequent-farting mode. Just like the last anniversary, I still strain and grunt to push out each infrequent update but ultimately it's still good fun. And Good Fun is more important than GOOD LOOKS or clean code or regular updates. Right? Yeah? Are you with me?

Reclining Man of North Beach
San Francisco, March 2005

I took Rory along for protection to the Scottish Blogmeet on Saturday. You can never be too careful! Why, I still remember the days when everyone from the internet was a pervert and/or axe murderer!

But there was not an axe blade in sight. Just lots of Guinness, nice folk and good conversation. I met Gunella, David, Wee David, Richard, Elizabeth, Martin and of course Gordon, the godfather of Scottish blogging. I only wish I could have stayed longer to meet Peter whose blog is a cracking read and Alan who has written a book about Jack The Ripper. How could you not want to meet someone who's written a book about Jack The Ripper? Exxxxcellent :)

Meanwhile, Gareth and I went walking up the Dollar Glen on Sunday and later saw this one-eared sheep. READER CONTEST! WIN WIN WIN! In 25 words or less, please come up with a witty and imaginative explanation for the missing ear. Best entry wins a prize! That has yet to be determined! Does anyone not have a Flickr Pro account yet?

There's been a big stack of emails and comments lately from people wanting to let me know how rubbish I am. At first I took it all personally and I've been freezing up every time I go to post something new. But it's time to get over it -- if you have a website with an email address and comments box, you have to expect all sorts of feedback.

If anyone else is busting to send such an email or comment, just bear in mind that this is just a silly, inconsequential little blog and I've never pretended it was anything more than that. And as it says on the About page, "I don't take this site seriously, so take anything I write with a grain of salt. I just like to crap on about silly things that happen." .

UPDATE:  Feeling bloody embarrassed about this now! I'd deliberately switched off comments on this so it didn't look like I was fishing for reassurance; I just wanted to rant it out of my system! Thanks to those who emailled or left comments elsewhere. I'm working on that Thicker Skin thing :)

A big fat greasy deep-fried thank you to those who voted WNP as Best Oz/NZ Blog in the Bloggies. Woohoo! And another woohoo for the other finalists - Boudist, Kitta, Spiceblog and Bizgirl!

For all the new vistors, if you're thinking "Wedding blog... BORRRING!" there was plenty of other sorts of entries before this recent palaver. And for the old people, you rawk! Thanks for sticking round for all these years.

I'm ashamed to admit I did not finished one single book this year, but started nine. My favourite albums were Margarine Eclipse by Stereolab and Blue by Joni Mitchell. I guzzled down olives, oatcakes and port (The Drink of Mothballed Aunties). My top fillums were Eternal Sunshine and The Motorcycle Diaries, the latter I saw twice because it gave me the horn for South America and that smouldering siren Gael Garcia Bernal. I'd start a revolution in his pants any day.

I'm away til Tuesday so in the meantime you can all talk amongst yourselves. Your task is to say hello and describe yourself in ten words or less!

I'll start - I'm Shauna and I'm going on holidays today, SO THERE!

Hehe.

Have any of you ever played online poker? Purchased propecia for a baldy head or cialis to bring life to a flaccid member?

Me bloody either! I wade through 100+ spam comments a day. I don't know if is this is above or below average, but there is nothing more pathetic than humping the chair with joy to see What's New Pussycat New Comment Posted in the mail, only to find it's ol' bob@y639o.com or top@tredgf.com AGAIN, wanting me to play some virtual blackjack.

I'm running MT 2.661 and dutifully erasing the shit with MT Blacklist, but if I fall behind it's a nightmare, there were thousands after three weeks in Russia. Help me, smart computer people. Would it make any difference if I forked out for MT 3.1? Or should the blog pack up sticks, move to Guatemala and start fresh?

Can't get enough Tongue? Check out this here photo gallery of our northern jaunt. Next week I'll start crapping on about Russia.

So here I am, still writing on a website (four years today) and making it easy for old acquaintances to Google and quickly realise that I'm still an idiot so there's no need to get back in touch.

Writing on the internet is easy. Compare the life of an internet writer-type to that of an actor. The actor must go to auditions or to Blockbuster in order to check out the competition, feel inadequate and wonder if they should try and be someone else -- internet writers just have to look at their blogroll. And they can do it without having to put on makeup or underpants.

Also consider the internet reader versus the movie-goer. Internet readers don't have to pay money and sit through what could be a rubbish film -- they can scan the first few lines of a webpage and click away if it stinks.

It's also beautifully easy for everyone to interact. Readers can leave comments or zap emails and their words will wash over the writer, all sweet and warm like a strawberry being lowered into a pot of chocolate fondue. But if you want to communicate with an actor, you have to send a self-addressed envelope to a fan club, and who knows how long it will take for the form letter/head shot to get back to you? It's much harder to give feedback, unless you're really determined like that guy who tried to assassinate Reagan.

Blogging's been a struggle this past year without a job that supports the habit. But the urge to write never wavers; I think in paragraphs while sitting on the bus, lips moving slowly like a psychopath while testing lines of dialogue. This is followed by weeks of mental editing, so by the time I actually write anything down it is no longer relevant, timely or of any interest to anyone at all. When I actually manage to produce something, I feel an enormous, shuddering relief, like an old man on a toilet after a mighty Vindaloo.

I still treat like this blog like an embarrassing secret. I panic when friends discover it. For four years I've been "forgetting" to email mum the address. When I see it on my sister's screen my face burns with shame like a 13-year-old boy caught with a Playboy. Part of me still thinks it's insane that millions of people are all typing words into little boxes and sending them out into ether.

Still, you can't deny the good a blog can bring over the years. They open doors, they inspire and frustrate. They show you how big and small the world is. They lead you to friends you now couldn't be without, even someone to fall in love with. They improve your typing speed.

Please refresh and tolerate boring black until I get around to jazzing things up. That orange cat had been there for 18 months and I was going to kick it in the arse if I had to look at its stupid grin for one more day.

That last bag o' shite entry was only meant to be there for two days until I finished the next one, but then I got too busy unloading vast quantities of snot and phlegm into cheap, rough tissues and lazing around in bed. In the meantime, have a gander at this wee interview thingie from a recent issue of Web User magazine, in which WNP was Blog of the Fortnight. Woohoo!

Happy holidays, all you lovely people. The Mothership said they've forecast 35'C back home...

On the Scottish buses at Lost In Transit.

It is too early for people to be saying it is too early for Christmas stuff to be in the shops. Let's not hear another word of it until 23 December.

Cross-posted to Lost In Transit

So here's the biggest filthy lie everyone will tell you as a wide-eyed young Aussie backpacker about to jet off - that your novelty accent shall be a one-way ticket into the hearts and minds and underpants of every foreigner you'll meet.

It just hasn't turned out to be the case, simply because there's just too many bloody Australians in Edinburgh to ever be considered a novelty. Everyone knows that London is brimming o'er, but I never expected so much of Down Under to be Up North.

On any given bus trip, you're guaranteed to hear at least one other Aussie, usually chirping away on their mobile phones about their forthcoming trip to Turkey, mate. I've also encountered a hairdresser, two recruitment consultants, one boss, assorted shop assistants and drunken dozens in the queues for Fringe Festival shows. And just when I'd got used my Scots gym instructor yelling at us to "squat doun!" or to "poosh! poosh!" those barbells, she was replaced by a Melbournian with a rippling torso.

So for the most part, people over here don't even notice that you talk funny, let alone whip off their dacks because of it. The only time my accent has been seen as different, it has led to confusion and tears. I'm working at Geriatric Rescue again, where elderly people call if they've fallen and can't get up. Between their thick and wobbly tones and my horrible drawl, it's been a struggle. I try enunciating clearly, ironing out the harshness of my vowels. But it's not working too well. One creaky old man shouted in frustration, "I just cannae understand ya, hen! It's like you're speaking a foreign language!"

And then last week, there was a little old lady with strangely suspicious and accusing tones.

"Where are you from?" she asked, after I'd most kindly called her a doctor.

"I'm from Australia."

"Aye, aye," You could almost hear her eyes narrowing. "I thought as much."

NEWS FLASH -  The Resurrection of Harvey!

And more about Harvey's adventures in New York.

There's big trouble a-brewin' with my iBook, Harvey. Read on...

Just a quickie - if you're an Aussie and you've ever wanted to come to the UK on a Working Holiday visa, it's just got a whole lot easier thanks to a review of the scheme. Thanks Rory for the heads up!

Who thought that three years ago today when I started this silly blog in order to look busy at work, that I would crap on for so long? That I'd find brilliant new friends that weren't axe murderers? Or that I'd end up moving overseas just to get some new material?

Step back in time!

You can vote now in the First Annual Nude Weblog Awards.

This here blog is up for the 'Weblogger We'd Like To See Nude' award.

UPDATE:  There's an awful lot of new people stopping by. Please say hello! You're freaking me out. And don't be put off by the recent crapness. There's archives!

My mind is on other things, like fresh raspberries. Check out the Olden & Golden on the sidebar, or just go play in the archives. Remember a time when I wrote remotely interesting things. First one to leave a (proper, thoughtful) comment on every entry wins a prize!

This is the third time I've had a birthday since starting this freaking blog. That is just a ridiculous amount of time to be waffling on. You should take me down the back paddock and put me out of my misery like an old dog, before I start to go blind and bark halfheartedly at parked cars.

Now I'm 25. What's that in dog years? 175? So relatively speaking, about a century ago you should have all kneeled down in front of your children and said in grave tones, "Darling, Shauny's gone to doggie heaven. No, don't cry, she'll be happy up there! Now she is free to run through meadows and hump any leg she chooses!"

I've been outed!

Life is so pathetic sometimes that it just becomes fucking hilarious. Let's all go out tonight for some vodkalicious action, yes?

This here Pussycat page is two years old today.

Can you believe I've been crapping on for two whole years? Surely I will run out of things to say soon. I'll be calling up The Mothership and asking, "So. Done anything funny lately?"

There was going to be a redesign and other birthday goodness, but these things never work out as planned. Oh well.

I am so disturbed by that freakytown featherless chicken. What's next? Are they going to breed a headless footless model? That'll save even more money! Or how about chooks emerging from the egg already encrusted in the eleven secret herbs and spices?

So, here is the very first Pussycat entry.

Thank Christ for our four day Easter weekend!

I want an About page. Any ideas? Whaddya want to know?

I'm always saying to my sister, "Come and look at this funny thing I found on the internet." She usually responds with "Mmmfgh", or smiles and pats me on the head. But finally last night I showed her something and she was doubled over on the couch, tears of laughter in her eyes.

It was Oliver. Oliver banished outside, Oliver pouting over his lack of bacon. And then the Oliver blooper reel featuring the most hysterical display of flying flesh you'll ever see.

So it goes to show, that's what the people want. No fancy Flash or sparkling prose, just cute doggie pics.

Last night I had bad, bad dreams about the previous entry. I know you're all thinking I'm some sort of freak. I don't have the finger any more, okay? Not since I was two days old. I have perfectly normal hands! Please don't alienate me from your hallowed society!

Thanks Rory Baby for informing me via the comments that this here blog is a Bloggies finalist, in the categories of Best Aussie/NZ Blog and Best-Kept-Secret Blog.

So to whichever lovely kiddies nominated the Pussycat, thanks! What great timing on my part that I have all these extra visitors and the first thing they read is Shauna Was A Six-Fingered Freak. Just fantastic.

Would you vote for a mutant?

Aside from a bazillion dodgy 2GZ albums, the last thing I won was 2nd place in the 50 metres butterfly at the Small Schools Swimming Carnival in 1989.

Granted, there were only two people in the race. And I had to be fished out of the pool by the lifeguards about the 25 metre mark. Butterfly is a dirty bitch of a stroke, I tells ya.

Yesterday I found in the mailbox a copy of Becoming A Writer by Dorothea Brande. Woo! Could the kind soul who sent it to me please speak up so I can thank you properly?

I'm a few chapters into it now and it's a great read. It was originally written in 1934 but still reads fresh as a daisy. And she's a witty old broad. It's not condescending or wanky like some writing books can be.

Merry Christmas everyone. I'm off to the Motherland now. I didn't quite get time to email everyone and leave comments etc, so sorry if you were missed. I've made some great friend thanks to this silly site and I'm thankful for you all. Have a good time, be merry, be happy. I plan to get toasted tomorrow.

Some kind soul sent me a birthday copy of Nick Hornby's How To Be Good from the wishlist. They sent it bang on November 1 but it only arrived in my mailbox today. Amazon's a little slow lately. It didn't say who sent it, so could the kind person please speak up so I can thank you properly? :)

After much kicking and swearing and Crispy M&Ms, finally got the Movable Type cooking. It won't look much different to you but it should be a whole lot easier for me to run back here. Exxxcellent.

You may need to hit Refresh a few times to clear the old pussycat out of your browser. I also don't have Netscape here at work so if it looks like turds in your browser, please let me know!

Thankyou to Daniel-san, who was the charmer that bullied me into converting to MT in the first place, then spent many hours installing the software, helping me with templates and stylesheets, and listening to me bitch and scream about what a waste of time the whole exercise was. Hehe.

The archive page has moved, and has shrunk dramatically. I managed to bulldoze 1300 entries down to 400, so most of the shitty "I hate the world! I want chocolate! Work sucks!" one line posts are gone.

We also now have proper comments, so you can stop emailling to say Mr Guestbook is clunky and inconvenient. But he'll still be there if you need him, all 849 glorious entries of the cranky ol bastard.

You can now expect the usual rambling posts o' shite, but now I'll probably whack a gratuitous question at the end to beg for comments. Don't just love how people do that? It goes something like this:

Entry about me. Me say things about me so me look cool/tortured/cute/angsty/unique/endearing. Me me me me. Me again. Me.

So... how about you? Click here to leave a comment!

Of course, if nobody panders to my thinly-disguised pleas for validation, I will probably rip down the comments code and flee to Guatemala or drink heavily or become a nun.

November 1 is All Saints Day, which means the nation pauses to celebrate the high-rating Channel 7 drama and reflect on the wonder that is Georgie Parker.

It's also my birthday. So please be pleasant to me today. And it's never too late to buy my love. Hurrah!

Later that day...

Hehehe. Have a listen to this! Nobody says happy birthday quite like Miss Helen (the Helen Razer helen that is, not Boss Helen)

And later still...

Hehehe. Much red wine and feeling fine. It's fun to sing stupid songs when tipsy. Tonight we have a medley of Destiny's Child, Littl