Some People Deserve to be Named and Shamed

Published February 16, 2026 by helentastic67

The proof is in the pudding. I often think the old terms and references might be lost if we don’t keep them alive by using them. Who thought this post I would be naming and shaming somebody? I still might.

The proof is in the pudding, while alluding to yeast being a raising agent. It’s a good reference to mean someone doing what they said they intended. Someone says they will do something; we take it as good; they will follow through and you only know once the deed is done. And the more they dilly-dally and piss-arse around and it isn’t done? The so-called pudding is not done. So, to speak.

Is everyone confused yet?

OK, I will context by stating since moving, I’ve had extra furniture to sell, items I no longer need or want. Furniture I’ve replaced with something I plan to keep forever and have it store things and make a statement. So, I’ve put items on the Place that is the Market. Are we all still following where this is going?

So, I put a thing, let’s call it a box? On the place that is a market. If you are not familiar. You can put your (already regretting this term) Box on the market, with measurements, a cost, a vague location and requirements on how you prefer to exchange said “box” or item for cash. And in a perfect world let’s say Jane? She messages to say, Hey! I’m curious about the box, can I come see it, give you the cash, to take it off your hands. Can you help or do I need to bring my own muscle? You may even hear from a Luke, a Maria, a Fred or help, a Gary, Mary or a Susie. All of these may be given instructions of a location close to your location, before breaking FULL PRIVACY boundaries and people may not have the appropriate method, vehicle, muscle to take said “box” I hope you all realise, the box is an item of furniture? Mmm, who thought it was something else? No, it’s furniture. Definitely.

After some back and forth with multiple people, one lovely lady coming from an hour away to look and measure the “box” She kept eyeing the item I’d bought to replace the “box” poor thing. I could see she kept looking at it. AND I laughed at her and told her I understood. I said the measly $10 (It was more, but as an example?) I’d asked for it wouldn’t put a dint in what the new purchase (the box!) had cost me. Whoever she was hard pressed to see if I would take $7.50 for it before she committed to coming to get it. Also, being very insistent getting my address. She did not get given my address and overnight she decided it was not the right size for her needs. So, annoying this lady.

But not as annoying as Jane, who several weeks after her original contact and no follow up. She messaged to inform me he was a “Genuine Buyer!” I’m sorry, did I have the shit attitude? When she reached out again, she mentioned all the other places in Melbourne she had to get to before getting to me to buy my “box” I suggested I didn’t need to know all her movements, only when I would be seeing her and that she would bring the required cash as actual cash.

The following day, the last day stated to collect and complete the transaction, Jane messaged me to inform me she would not be coming and that I seemed more interested in the $10. Then she stated her insult that I was “Uneducated and rude!” Um? Do I seem uneducated to you?

I don’t know who she thought she was? However, I went to reply with a polite but firm “You are misinformed and rude. Good day!” But she had blocked me. What a rhymes witty punt? Think I used the word “Cow” although that insults animals that are referred in some countries and have four stomachs. Worthy creatures indeed. So, I reported her and blocked her.

Oh, just an FYI, the lovely lady was Jane. The punt was Ann, the proof was definitely not in the pudding, but she proved herself something else.

I’m not a fan of using the word that rhymes with punt, but this seemed like an appropriate time to use it. What an awful human being. She didn’t deserve the item in question.

I guess people get what she deserves? Until, eventually when it finds its next home it will mean to be. I just don’t understand why people have to make it so hard?

Merry Christmas to Everyone

Published December 23, 2024 by helentastic67

Wants and Needs

This post is likely ahead of the first five to ten I’ve only written in my head but here we go. I’ve been doing a lot of research lately for where I will be next living, for how long I can afford to live there or just live in general, If I can afford to travel, in other words have a holiday and can I finally afford furniture from my favourite shop, can I afford any or all of these things?

I now utter sentences that includes words like “my financial advisor.” and it’s weird. I’m getting more comfortable with it but it’s still weird.

Don’t for a heartbeat imagine I’m wealthy however, my father, God bless him, has allowed me to consider life could have potential and could be a little sweeter.

A wise woman suggested I work out how much I need for the furniture I want, potential travel and work backwards.

Furniture, Holiday, Forever home, Check.

I just consulted the website to my favourite furniture store and my antidepressants are not strong enough.

Not Racist

Published October 14, 2019 by helentastic67

Not Racist

You know those moments when you say something totally racist, when your intention is anything but, so says every racist. However, (see what I did there?)

Just like when people say “I don’t mean to be racist, but” and they say something totally racist. Standing outside my apartment complex the day my friend delivered my new couch.

Background about Frank, more Italian than I am. His parents were both older when they came to Australia in a different generation to me. Frank is the same age as me, however married with two fully grown children, whom I met when I worked for him about fifteen years ago and his kids were only little.

Frank arrives with the couch on the back of his van. At the same time, there is a van parked behind his with a woman sitting in the front passenger seat with the door open. Two men and another woman came down carrying things to put in the back of their van. Now, I had noticed their van parked there earlier in the day and some banter between the two men, shoulder slaps and verbal ribbing (teasing).

Did I mention, they were black? I don’t mean that in a racist way. There are plenty of Indian, Asian and African people in this area. However, I mean really black. I should point out now, over twenty years ago my sisters high school friend married a gentleman from Nigeria and so came the term “He’s as black as snow” and he has the most softly spoken voice. They have and assortment of chocolate coloured kids, however these four people were really black.

Frank was there and down the street came his friend to help. Frank and his friend started ribbing each other straight away. I asked how they knew each other, to which Frank quickly replied “Prison”. I’ve known Frank about twenty years now and he has definitely not been to prison.

Unbeknownst to Frank, I caught the eye of the woman sitting in the front seat of the van, at the mention of “Prison” her face showed surprise, shock and concern. I would like to say she paled somewhat, but that’s not true. I caught her eye and shook my head in the negative.

Frank and his friend were continuing their joke with who had the top bunk (while in prison). Anyway, when the two guys started bringing things (couch/fridge) down the steps Frank stepped forward to help because that’s what wogs do (they help) they don’t wait to be asked, they don’t offer, they just step up and help.

Every time Frank stepped up to help and also to help avert disaster, I gave him a little cheek too “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Frank and I started to racially profile the people moving out, in a non-racist way.

We were guessing what part of Africa they were from (Eretria) and we figured they had been in Australia for less than five years, however the way they communicated with each other and the banter and cheek between the two men meant they were likely, brothers-in-laws or siblings and Frank and I considered where his parents had been like when they arrived here.

I had spoken to the supervisor in the front passenger seat and we agreed you only encounter people when you are moving in or out of the apartment. They had been here three years and it’s the only time I’d seen them. Now they are gone, which is sad because they seemed nice people.

And well, my friends seemed alright despite one (Frank) having been to Prison.

P.S. Prison, apparently a common term for going to church. Too funny.

Adapt

Published March 11, 2019 by helentastic67

Adapt

Now, for some light and shade. If you just turned ‘twenty-three’ it was pretty dark times. Although this story stems from a purchase from back then.

Improvise

When I finally got a queen-sized bed (my dad made me a sleigh bed) but more about that later. I bought some affordable pine furniture to fill my bedroom, two bedside tables, a tall boy with a large blanket drawer down the bottom and an upright bookcase with nice moulding on the top.

Pine furniture

Now, I said it was affordable, I meant cheap. However, I added some raw amber water-based paint, some patina (antiquing medium) and some polyurethane in a satin finish and more than a single effort with the sandpaper and what can I say? Carpenters daughter, right here.

Painting

Anyway, that’s the background, the tall boy in my current home lives in the ‘return’. File under ‘apartment living’, all new builds must have a window to every bedroom. That means my bedroom has a hallway like space to the window, where I have put my DVD, bookcases and the tall boy (and anything else that didn’t fit anywhere).

Bookcase

So, being one handed and because I don’t stand in front of the tall boy to get the draws open and closed (I did say cheap right? The draws aren’t on runners) making opening one-handed painful and the trials and dilemmas on being one handed and having limited space. I reached down and was hitting the drawer on both ends to get the thing closed.

Open draw

That’s all background you need so next is the punchline so I hope you stayed with me.

So, recently late one night, putting my clothes away, thinking I might even make it to be by 1am. (Yeah, it’s a realistic goal, even if it’s not one that makes my shrink happy) I obviously hit the tall boy draw one too many times, rather vigorously and the candle stick on top fell off and connected with the top of my head. Yes, it really hurt and yes, I used my favourite word. AND rather than slow it down, it seemed to gather speed as it hurtled towards my foot.

Kicking furniture

Which foot? I hear you ask. For those who don’t know or don’t remember, my left foot has been affected by my ‘stroke, not stroke’ as I like to call it.

Stroke no stroke

So, of course it landed on my right foot, because I can fucking feel that one. Sweet Jesus, it hurt so much. Lots of swearing as I hobbled to bed and even days later, here is a photo of my bruised toes.

Bruised toes 1 Bruised toes 3

Solution? Need to update the tall boy to open with drawers on coasters for easy sliding and good OH&S. Adapt! Adapt! Adapt!

Adapt and learn

Family – Part 1

Published February 18, 2019 by helentastic67

Family Part 1a

Family – Part 1

As you may well imagine, I have a network of people I know with brain injuries and the simple thing about brain injuries that there are no two alike. No diagnosis is the same, the same treatment, recovery etc. Finding? Don’t get me started on the finding. However, suffice to say I recently heard one in my network say her settlement date was looming. I’m sorry WTF?

Settlement looming

They still live at home, while my age they haven’t lived out of home and when they visited my home some years ago, she wandered around asking if each bit of furniture was mine. Everything in my home is mine. I don’t rent furnished homes.

Still living at home

So, I wasn’t sure how she could afford her own place in such a great location, however when discussing this conversation with another her reasoning was simple.

Great location

“She said, her family are assholes.”

For all sense and reason, I think she wouldn’t argue with me when I say for what she has told me, her family is the same.

Family Part 1

I know she recently told me her family and cousins all went away for a weekend of a week and didn’t invite her. Huh? What?

Family weekend

When she asked why, she had been overlooked? She was told, because of her chronic pain, they thought she wouldn’t want to come.

Chronic Pain

Now, let me just suggest, when you suffer chronic pain, it’s never ending, no matter what you do or how often you can be guaranteed it will return and be with you forever. No matter where you are.

Chronic Pain 2

So, if you swim, do yoga, take pills, sleep a lot, you will find a way to do whatever you need to, to cope and sometimes a change of location makes all the difference.

Change of Scenery

Etiquette

Published August 25, 2017 by helentastic67

Etiquette

Are our parents rich or something? Um, remember those days of yester-year, where social etiquette dictated at a dinner party one didn’t discuss certain topics? I recall, many politics and religion. Or as I prefer sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.

sex drugs rock n roll

But it’s all much of a muchness. There is a huge misconception from people who meet me or see my home that prompt people to ask “Are your parents Rich?”

Are your parents rich

Um, define rich? And in any way, shape or form. No, my parents were not rich.

I was raised in a single income family and when I was about thirteen my mum also returned to work for a few years before having my youngest sibling. Mum would say that income she had clothed us. I recalled being fifteen and having one pair of jeans, one shirt and I don’t recall what I wore the rest of the time.

Parents not paying

Anyway, again people visit my home and they assume someone has given me all the nice things in my home. I don’t have expensive furniture, some of my furniture is even second-hand. I just have an eye for “things” and I like to collect things. I have pine furniture (so cheap) that for my bookcases and when you enter my front door, you are greeted by my Artbook collection and my Vogue Living collection, which I’ve been building on both for 20+ years. It didn’t happen overnight, but consistency is the key.

Second hand furniture