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h e l l o @ k a t e o k t a y . c o m

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essentially just me thinking I am funny

I hate my Job #1

Maurice constantly reminded you of your place in the shearing shed sub-universe. “See that dog there?” Maurice would say pointing at Sue, who would half look up lazily from another mouthful of sheep poo. “You are lower than that. First there is the shearer, thats me. Then there is the dog. Then there is you. If there were other people here you would be lower than them too.”

Happy year of the pig

Amy and the taxi driver drove with the windows down and cackled at the stupid overly worried foreigners. Dave had unbound panic in his eyes and I thought about suicide vests as I tried to secure the bouncing firework beast with the seatbelt. Amy smoked cigarettes with a carefree attitude to windswept embers and did impressions of us as the taxi driver provided an appreciative and amused audience.

Christmas Shopping is bull@$%*

The whole exercise is like a perfect storm of all the things I despise; shopping, crowds, organised fun, commercialism, and the worst kind of music there is- mall music at Christmas time. It is also, I have discovered over the last nine years, absolutely prime time to have a really good public whisper-and-angry-looks fight with your husband.