Kim Kardashian, Seventy Angry Lawyers Weilding Seventy Breached Contracts and The Starving Children in Africa.

Sometimes after reading the news headlines I fold myself into the foetal position and weep.
No, I'm not talking about the impending financial collapse of the European Union and the fact that by 2014 we will all be living in dumpsters and selling our children as spare parts.  My latest news-induced physical and emotional implosion happened after I heard the tragic news of Kim Kardashian's impending divorce. 
On my knees arms beseeching the heavens I wailed "Where, oh where did the love go?"
All that effort...... THREE wedding dresses (because when you're really in love one is not enough)....three hundred and seventy six carat diamond rings (again, he loved her three hundred and seventy six times more than the average guy), .eleventy million dollars for photographic rights  and the blinding, radiant all encompassing LOVE....gone....just...gone.
I ...just.....can't....believe....sob.. i...it's.....over....blub...sniffle.
How our Armenian princess gets through the day after this personal armageddon is beyond me  How she drags herself out of her swag each morning to administer food and medicine to the starving Sudanese....How she squares up and pokes her finger into collective chest of the UN about war crimes in Sri Lanka....How she works in soup kitchens on Hollywood Boulevard....How she personally oversees the health and wellbeing of disabled Romanian orphans.  All of this.....and her marriage has crumbled.....it was all just. too. much.
Huh?
What's that?  She actually doesn't do anything?  ANYTHING?
Well what's she doing splashed all over the media all the time?  Of course it's a bloody good question.....
She sells handbags? Handbags? And clothes? Oh.
You are kidding......she actually charged people who had already bought her handbags $160 to get an autograph......in Australia?  She wasn't mobbed or spattered with rotten tomatoes?
But what about the starvi......
Nevermind.
Humans are stupid.  I want to be a dog.

When a Red Ribbon is Just a Red Ribbon and Not a Metaphor for Psycho-sexual Mind Games

Hell-oooooooooo! Phew, I'm finally back after being whisked away by George Clooney for three months in Sodom and Gommorah.  (Don't even know if I spelled tha' proper-loike).
Or I could have had my head stuffed so far up a criminalistics textbook that when I emerged I found my children have left home, I've three grandchildren, my husband has run off with a one-legged rastafarian mandolin player and I live within a fortress of newspapers - and ninety seven cats.  Which is most likely? Nevermind.

There is much to be said for hitting a certain age and discovering that your neurons fire about as fast as Telstra's internet dial up network.   I can run faster than the connection at my Mum's place.  Anyway, what I'm trying to say in my typically verbose fashion is .... I've been studying to the exclusion of everything....(except Thing 1 and Thing 2).  The way I hit the books you would think I would've actually sewn up string theory, or at least next year's Nobel Prize. sigh.
Unlike some, I can't learn via osmosis.  As much as I'd love to place my faith-healer hands on a textbook and feel all that knowledge stream into the draughty cavern that is my craniobrainio bit.  My brother-in-law learns like that.  He's a super dooper mergers and acquisitions lawyer who studies for his masters by just THINKING about blowing the cobwebs from his textbook - while he surfs.  My sister is the same....the memory of a steel trap, although admittedly it is generally confined to irrelevancies such as the fact that I borrowed $15 from her in 1982 (she's working out the interest as I write) and my plethora of other crimes and misdemeanours dating back to her birth in 1974.

Dreamt of exams the other day.  Usually it's me walking into a gymnasium looking at the eleventy million desks lined up for an english exam and ...*lightbulb*.... "Oh. I forgot to read the book".  Actually that wasn't a dream, that was true. Almost.  For practically all of my year 12 exams.
Modern European History: Medici's, yeah, weren't they hairdressers from Milan?
Religious Studies: Exodus, I'm sure that's an English boy-band.
Legal Studies: the snail in the bottle....the snail....in. the. bottle.  Yep, that set a precedent that resulted in Schweppes always making  sure there were never. any. more. snails. in. bottles. 
English:  A red ribbon always means a loss of viginity (Tess of the Durbervilles) and seagulls flying into a sunset means new life (Fly Away Peter).  God help me! When can a story just be a damn good yarn and not sneakily woven with symbolic trickery?
I failed. 
The latest exam anxiety dream was loaded with obvious neuroses.....my subconscious knows it needs to s.p.e.l.l things out for me otherwise I will meander in blissful ignorance into the next disastrous quagmire.

Sometimes a red ribbon is just a red ribbon.

(Coming up:  The Kardashians (good grief) and Living the High Life).