My super boring journal I would like some more pressed duck.

Susan,
you will have heaps of interesting things to journal when I and Eb come to visit in just a few short sleeps.
You can journal our adventures across the country side, all the times we get lost and panic and think we will have to live where ever we are on the street for the rest of our lives, all the times communication breaks down due to language barriers and our stupidity, all the exotic food we eat, all the things we buy (and steal), all the exciting places we visit, all the DVDs we watch, all the arguments we have, where you have buried my body - you will have so much to write you might have to start another journal.

AND your readership is not diminishing, rest assured it is as strong as ever, however we also often have little to write about.

What am I thankful for? It is pretty hard to think of stuff that doesn't sound cliché.

I am thankful that I don't have anything to be unthankful for. I live in a beautiful country, I have a family that I love and who love me. I have friends and no mortal enemies as far as I know, I am healthy, I have a job that I mostly like, I have a car and a place to live, I can fly across the world to see my sister and new places with minimal effort, I can buy things if I want them, I can choose to use my means to help other people, I can do and make things just because it is fun, I can sit and brood about the meaning of life in the dark hours of the night because I don’t have to worry about where my next meal will come from or how my family will survive or if I will be killed, I can do whatever I want to......... Noooo that doesn’t sound cliché at all.

  H Nov 27, 2006 1:27 PM

Hi, Susan. No-one thinks your journal is boring. Even ordinary stuff is interesting and everyone loves to read it, even though they may be a bit lazy (like me) in making comments. Just write whenever you want to. Once upon a time the word for making something look more attractive was 'primping', not pimping. Your comment about the cricket reminded me that I turned on my TV the other day and the cricket came on (I didn't know which channel I was watching because the numbers on the buttons did not correspond with the channel numbers - they do now because Daniel has written the numbers on with a permanent marker). I thought: Trust me to find the most boring show on TV, so I changed to another channel, and guess what was on that one? The bream-fishing competition!

Things I am thankful for are: word-processing technology, voltaren, coffee, magic spring days in Perth, gum-trees, rose-hip oil, head-massages and spectacles.

Sorry I woke you up on Saturday. I thought it was an hour later. Keep happy. Love. Mum XXX

  Mum Nov 27, 2006 1:55 PM

Don't you DARE shut down this web-site Susan. What will I do with myself? I'll start reading it twice in order to boost readership if you like. Don't let it become a burden, just write whenever you want to. But don't shut it down. This is the main way that my parents know what I am doing. Do you want to be responsible for shuttig down communciation between parents and a child. Do you? Do you really, Sue? Look in a mirror and ask yourself.

I informed my yr 9/10 kids that a pimp was someone who looked after a group of prostitutes, and there was a stunned silence. I like to give a well-rounded education.

I MADE IT all the way to the song 'Zero' on my mp3 player (by The Smashing Pumpkins)- about five months of listening alphabetically! I am now floating in a wide ocean of musical choice, haphazardly choosing songs as the tide takes me.

I am thankful for Jim Henson, someone who employs me, the band 'George', Wikipedia, and house-mates who have a better understanding of hygiene, food preparation, social interaction and global economics than me.

Talk to you AGAIN Susan.

PS. Brace yourselves for the Tiffany Road finale- your head will flip, your jaw will drop, and then you will slap ourself and say "Oh, of course, it is all so obvious now. Why didn't I see it coming?". And Neighbours writers will be kicking themselves that they have been out-twisted. AND GET THIS- Brenton did not know that it was me as the Soapy Sphinx this whole time- (anyone else?) I thought it was immediately apparent. He just thought it was some crazy, and usually skipped over them- well, we all know who's missed out. Uh-huh.

Simon J.

  Simon J Nov 28, 2006 12:50 AM

This isn't boring. Although you think you've just started pimping up your journal its been pimpin' since day uno. For example. How do you pimp the word 'boring'? Add 'super' to the front. Hooray!. I tried to explain to mum how 'pimp' and 'primp' had "slightly" different origins. She refused to believe it.
I got an x-ray on my back today. Now its hurts again cos they kept poking it. It probably isnt broken.
I am thankful for prescription medicine, but am not thankful for impatient radiologists.
I am thankful for the music, and for abba bringing it to me.
I would also be thankful for a magical spring day in Perth if the spring days in Perth werent so devoid of magic and spiggin hot.
I am thankful for possesing arms, for helping make everyday tasks much simpler. And also organs are good too... only the vital ones.

  Ebony Nov 28, 2006 3:38 PM

I am thankful that every now and then I can jump on Sue's super boring journal and for a brief moment enter into an almost make believe world...a world without pain, heartache or sorrow a world where even the most "boring," mundane, everyday things are mentioned...and even glorified. A world where time stops, all but briefly, and I can stop and catch a breath and tell Sue that her journal (although severely undercommented by lazy people such as myself) is not unread and certainly not unappreciated and DEFINATELY not boring.


I would also like to second Ebony's motion..."I am very thankful for my vital organs!"

  Brenton Nov 28, 2006 7:28 PM

Suzie, take a look at the writers section again, your journal is the best journal ever. Those sneeky nomads may have written more posts than you, but they haven't got one comment. And if you look at all the other journals, most of them have zero comments & if they do it's only a couple of people having long conversations. Just face it Sue, your the best journal writer in the whole world & if the world doesn't see it, it's the worlds problem!

I'm thankful for aloe vera tissues.

  Meli Nov 29, 2006 6:48 PM

Hello Sue
I am writing to say no, please do not give up the journal, for as Simon says, how would I ever know what they were doing otherwise!!!! But I do find it quite a tonic and let's face it, there's not much worth watching on TV these days!!! (Unless you like the cricket as does my other half).
Anyway, I thought I'd let you know what I'm really thankful for and I know the "boys" will be chuckling when they read this. For as most of my friends and family know, I ABSOLUTELY HATE THE SUMMER-TIME WITH IT'S ENDLESS HOT WEATHER. So, in all seriousness, I am very thankful for the sea-breeze, which unfortunately seems to take an age to get to Gosnells, but when it does arrive - it restores my sanity. And of course, I cannot forget the good old faithful fans and air-cons. which make life so much more bearable.
Thought you might like to know that I've been Christmas shopping in Perth this morning (to try and avoid all the hype and before school holidays) and then after school Simon helped me print some photos on one of those digital processing gadgets at the chemist. I don't know, it used to be so much simpler when we just handed in a roll of film to the chemist and it came back all done up in a nice little packet. These machines beep and make all sorts of funny noises, so I was very glad I'd dragged Simon along to help me!!!!
Can't say that any of that was very exciting but never mind.

  Maureen J. Nov 30, 2006 10:14 PM

Simon is a computer Wizard. Call him Tron.

My anti-spam code that I have to enter is FKTWCA.

What is the WCA?

  Ezra Dec 4, 2006 1:46 PM

Jeremy Irons is an Islander, he was born in Cowes! Hopefully they have a museum & monuments in the Isle of Wight dedicated to all things irony!

  Jeremy's Iron Dec 7, 2006 1:23 AM

Anthony Minghella who directed the talented Mr Ripley is from the Isle of Wight too. His parents are still here. They run an icecream factory which is quite famous. Also, the original drummer from the sex pistols lives here... in west wight... where all the inbreeding happens.

  Anthony Minghella Dec 8, 2006 6:34 AM

The Final Episode EVER Part 2- ‘It’s Finally Final’:(SING) "Tiffany Road, where I will never, Tiffany Road, you know we belong together, you and I forever and ever, sons and daughters, love and laughter, tears of sadness and happiness, you are the fire burning inside of me, you are my passion for life, that’s when good neighbours become good friends, (saxophone solo), Tiffany Road, makes all your hopes shine through... ooooh."

Open on long, long, long take of guests staring slack jawed at a plain yet beautiful Susette, who is taking a moment to flick her hair, after being confronted with quite a succession of devastating news, culminating in the fact that Steve the beautiful fireman who is trying to break into modelling, blurted out NOT that he wanted to stop the current wedding and run away with her to Mexico, but that the hospital was indeed on fire, and that they, indeed, had only minutes to escape or they would asphyxiate on a mixture of burning polyester hospital gowns and melted lipstick.
There was a stunned silence. Not surprisingly. Most people had already passed out due to the fumes. The silence was abruptly broken by a large military truck came hurtling through a side wall, knocking over a flower arrangement that had been set up for the wedding, but had since withered in the heat.
The door flung open, and the rugged outdoorsman top surgeon in khaki travelling jacket burst out of the vehicle, strode towards Susette, grabbed her with one arm around her waist and said “Marry me, like you know you want to.” and planted a long hard kiss on her lips. Several mousy female guests gasped and fainted, because they had always dreamed of such a man to take them into their arms and say such arrogant words. Or perhaps it was just the heat that got to them.
Susette efficiently flipped the outdoorsman surgeon onto his back with a ju-jitsu move, and held his chin with the point of her pearl wedding shoes. “I can’t marry you. I don’t even like you. I spend all my time talking about how much I totally detest you.”
“That’s right. She does.” Sam the fireman offered.
“I just presumed…" the outdoorsman gurgled, “That was because you really DID like me and was just trying to hide it. I thought you wanted to marry me.”
Susette rolled her eyes. “No.”
“So, just who exactly, is Susette supposed to be marrying today?” whispered one of the guests. But before that pertinent question could be answered, Susette made an earth-shattering announcement that would distract everyone from remembering the question.
“The truth of the matter is, is that I am unable to marry anyone today. The truth is,” breathed Susette, flicking her hair and then breathing again, “Is, that I (flick of hair) never was (breath) an ex-super-model from Kenwick (flick). I never did finish my heart surgeon correspondence course. I was never in the witness protection program. I am, in fact, (breath, flick, breath, breath, breath) an undercover nun working for the Vatican to uncover a ring of DVD pirates working in the area. I had to assume this identity in order to be truly accepted by the local folk. And now that that’s cleared up, let’s get out of here.”
Everyone began picking up bodies that had collapsed on the floor due to Botox inhalation, and dragged them down the burning hallways out to safety. Once the plastic surgery equipment was rescued, and the highly expensive digital camera apparatus was retrieved, AND all the patients were safe, the hospital collapsed. Everyone assembled out the front, where some hair stylists were handing out rugs and warm mugs of soup, and some were roasting marshmallows off the flames.
Susette sat down and tried to take a breath. A twelve year old girl who had been trailing Susette, and generally bothering her thoughts, slowly approached her.
“Excuse me… but I think… said the girl.
Susette sat up and looked the girl in the face. The almond shaped eyes, the bone structure, the flick of hair. It was identical to her own.
“However did you find me?” asked Susette. “I had to give you up at the nunnery twelve years ago. They said that you were working in a salt mine, but I think that was just to placate me.”
“Well, you have been on the cover of every magazine for the last couple of years, so it really wasn’t that tricky. And people always told me, my mother was plain, but beautiful.”
Susette smiled. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

Long, loooonnnnng sweeping of Susette sitting on the grass out the front of the demolished hospital slash model agency, pulling back to slowly pan around Susette and take in everyone around her, with Herr Vonn Gutenberg planning with a photographer a ‘soot chic’ photo shoot in the middle of the burning building, Sam the fireman who was wanting to break into modelling perhaps realising that he is actually having a lot of fun putting out fires, and maybe that is where he should be, and the rugged outdoorsman top surgeon still trying to comprehend the fact that someone might not want to just marry him, and Felicity Alexandria, and Cindy Cindington, and Vanessa Gabriella Martini and the Scarecrow, and the Saggy Baggy Elephant, and Bill Cosby, all were left wondering, what would they do, how would they pick up their lives and move on, without, Tiffany Road? And, with a breath, flick of the hair, breath, flick, flick, it’s gone.

The Ende.

  The Soapy Sphinx Dec 10, 2006 2:22 AM

When you search 'Soapy Sphinx' in Google its comes up with this journal.

  Ebony Dec 10, 2006 11:25 PM

Dear Susan,

I hope you are well and enjoying yourself. Don't give up the journal. Even if you feel you cannot write much (which you always seem to do), others will. I am thankful for the coolness of our place on hot days due to the natural insulation and shade. I am grateful for my computer, my big desk, my loving and talented daughter, my husband (mostly), shopping in Manjimup: (where else could you walk from Coles to Woolies in less than two minutes?), the bakery that makes delicious pies with real meat, the shade and the beautiful open land and skyscapes and where it seems both busy and quiet at the same time and in the same place. Also, our arthritic, smelly yet incredibly friendly and loyal dog. Oh yes, and glucosamine. Of course, also spectacles, or I wouldn't be able to write this. I must congratulate The Soapy Sphinx. I think he should gather it all together into a book. Bye, and thank you for your kind comment on my last comment.
Love Janet

  Janet Dec 12, 2006 1:34 PM

Hello Sue and Everyone.

We are in Brunei waiting to go to London in an hour.
We will update date you on shananigans when we get to Sue's. Just letting you know that we are alive and well :)

  H Dec 15, 2006 9:36 PM