Yet Another Pregnancy Scare

I went to visit my grandma in Hervey Bay this morning. She lives in an aged-care facility where she gets her own room and bathroom, catered meals and the occasional social event. So it's kind of like living at college. But different.

I walked into her room and gave the old lady a hug. And then my grandma says, in her slightly impertinent but loving way, a remark which pretty much suggested that I looked pregnant.

In fact, that's pretty much what she said. "Kristen, you look pregnant."

Nice to see you too, Grandma. What a big mouth you've got.

This is not the first time someone has suggested that I could be pregnant. Some of you might remember the incident on the New York subway in 2010 when a very nice gentleman did the very nice gentlemanly deed of offering me his seat. When I refused profusely, the very nic'e gentleman punched himself in the face by saying, "but you're pregnant, right?"

Um, that would be a 'no', you Yankie douche-canoe.

So when my granda dropped the P-word, I jumped to the same conclusion that I did that day on the subway.

I. Am. Fat.

But I know this not to be true because I've been watching The Biggest Loser which is an excellent way to gain a realistic perspective about one's quality of life. Therefore, I am resigned to the fact that I am not fat if -

I can jump from the ground to the bottom step of the stairs.

I can climb the stairs.

The people at my local McDonalds don't know me by name, license plate or the order I place at the drive-through window.

I can get my heart rate over 100 without throwing a tantrum.

My legs and my ankles are too different things.

But in all seriousness, obesity is a troublesome issue and watching The Biggest Loser does remind me of that. And also that I am a flippity-jibbit for all those times I've stared in the mirror wishing a few kilograms would miraculously slide off my arms and stomach. I am not fat and frankly, thinking I am fat and all the self-flagellation that goes along with it requires more energy than it does to go for a run in the afternoon.

This is what went through my head in the five seconds between when my grandma said, "Kristen, you look pregnant" and when I snapped too and realised that I am not fat. And definitely not pregnant.

However, to my grandma's credit, I did look like I was pregnant. I blame this whole-heartedly on the frumpy and misguiding camisole I was wearing from Gap. The kind of camisole with an elastic band around the middle, which while giving me a defined waist, puffed out a little too much around my gut (and not in the 'concealing a multitude of sins' kind of way).

The kind of camisole that would have my picture splashed across the glossip mags if I was anyone of any importance, with a headline that screamed, 'KH - carrying the next immaculate conception'.

The kind of camisole which is definitely getting ceremoniously burnt tomorrow.

KH.

Things to know about the Chinese New Year in case Eddie McGuire ever asks

I've never completely understood the concept behind the Chinese New Year. So, just in case I ever go on Millionaire's Hot Seat and Eddie McGuire asks me something about it, I thought I would dig up some factoids to store for trivial purposes.

The Chinese New Year is China's most important festival and is all to do with the moon. Much like our friend, the ocean. It's also referred to as the Lunar New Year because the Chinese calender is lunarsolar.

If you're in China, Hong Kong, Thailand, Singapore or any area with a significant population of Chinsese, they'll stop work to celebrate the coming of the new year. A good reason to set up shop at your local Chinatown and get yourself another public holiday.

The whole sha-bang is a massive celebration of wealth, health and happiness. Children wish their parents a happy new year and receive money in a red envelope (kinda like getting a Baby Born, but different...). They recognise the coming year by covering their doors and windows with coloured paper cut outs. And of course, there's food. Duck's foot, anyone?

But what really interests me is the idea of each year being represented by an animal zodiac. This calender is an incorporation of the lunar calender and the solar calender. The whole business gets a bit tricky once you try to line it up with the Gregorian calender, so I'll skip that part. The animals are known as the 12 Earthly Branches and their order is steeped in Chinese legend. But the story is kind of long and I don't think I could tell it nearly as well as Wikipedia does so you can read more about that here.

Anyway, this year is The Year of the Dragon and if you think about it, there are some pretty sweet dragons around town.

Puff the Magic Dragon, who lives by the sea. Very cool.

Falkor the Luckdragon from The Neverending Story who looks like a giant, flying shih tzu.

And Mulan's Mushu. A tad annoying at times, but never the less, a handy dragon-friend to have in a sticky spot.

And the best part of The Year of the Dragon? It's the luckiest year in the Chinese Zodiac. So look out for a whole lot of good luck coming your way. I know I've already had my fair share. The Year of the Dragon has brought me a new full-time job working as the online-editor at Sydney's Girl PR.

Looks like Puff is on my side.


KH. 

Damned if you do, damned it you don't, damned if you're Ricky Gervais

I could write a review on the red carpet fashions at yesterday's 69th Annual Golden Globes. Believe me, I have plenty of opinions to offer. But it all just seems like too much effort. And copyright infringement. And money and I don't have any money.

What I do have is the worst case of indigestion known to humanity. Seriously, it feels like a little man has abseiled down the front of my chest and is zapping it with a miniature taser gun every five seconds. I have tried every home-remedy Google has to offer. Heat, peppermint tea, apples, a strange abdomen exercise which is supposed to stimulate the bowel. Nothing has yet induced the all-encompassing burp (Lord, please let it be a burp...) which is festering in my stomach. .

So until that moment, I am going to remain a right, fat, grump.

Back to the Golden Globes...

You could read the review I'm not going to write or you could just go visit the Go Fug Yourself girls and read what they had to say instead. Infinitely more interesting, humorous and satirical. And that's coming from me.

If you don't know who Heather and Jessica of Go Fug Yourself are, you are forgiven for not being a long-term, dedicated reader of TKC (The KH Chronicles. I'm seeing if it will catch on). I gave them a shout-out way back in 2009. You can read it here. Or you can read about them there. Either way, it's high time you were introduced. They are ingenious. Opinionated, satirical, sarcastic, glorious genius. That's their scientific term.

Back to the Golden Globes...

All in all, I was a little disappointed, especially by Ricky G. I was pulling for some truly, disasterous, "Can't look away from the car crash" type TV. Instead, we were dished up a reined-in version of his usually brilliant word vormit. The Kardashian/Middleton reference was satisfactory. Okay, it was a little clever. But the rest was a bit 'blah'. I was refused the perverse delight I get in seeing celebrities squirm and instead, we got Ricky Gervais playing it safe in the shallow end with his Golden Globe floaties.

Where was the indecency? Where was the cringe-worthy? Where was the just, plain wrong?

Erin Wasson must have been wearing it. Or not wearing it.

Who knows? Maybe this means the lovely Erin Wasson will be invited to host next year's Golden Globes.

Tough gig, Ricky G.


KH.

What's The Big Idea?

So we’ve had my All I Want for Christmas Is list and the 10 Things To Do or Avoid Doing on New Year’s Eve So You Don’t End Up Upside Down In A Garden Bed With Bleeding Shins And Short One Hoop Earring and A Victoria Secret Lipgloss list, but I thought I would go for the trifecta and make my first post for the New Year a list also.

This is the end of the lists, I promise.

So, here is my List of Big Ideas for 2012. It’s kind of like a list of New Year’s resolutions, but better.

And you should also know that in my writing these ideas here, they are now smeared in my copyright. Finders is not keepers when it comes to blogging.  

1.       Work in a retirement home and record the memoirs of little old ladies and geriatric gentleman. I’ve always been a bit scared of retirement homes, so this idea offers a double whammy. Conquer my fear of old people and put my skills as a journalist to some use by recording their memoirs for their personal keeping.

2.       Develop an iPhone app for The KH Chronicles. Imagine that – my daily ridiculousness would be but a thumb-tap away. That’s if you have a smart phone. And if you don’t, well, crawl out from under your rock. The technological age has arrived.

3.       Take ceramics classes so my kitchen cupboards are full of my completely individual, non-matching gas-fired wares. This is in an attempt to eliminate anything identical from my life. This does not apply to my doppelganger, however.

4.       Learn the harmonica so I can play the harmonica solo in my rendition of Lisa Mitchell’s A Little Ramblin’ Blues For Any Hour. Then I can use one of those nerdy harmonica holders which looks like the headset teenagers with braces had to wear in the 80s.

5.       Item 4 is part of a greater idea I have to become a one-woman show, wherein I play the guitar, base, harmonica, tambourine, triangle and drums all at the same time, while singing like Julie Andrews before she got nodules.  

6.       Go into business with Joanna Lumley. I’m not sure how yet. And it doesn’t necessarily have to be business. I would be equally content employing her to be my personal bedtime storyteller, just so I can listen to her voice on a daily basis.

7.       To win a Shorty Award. Let’s face it - winning an Oscar Award is a little far-fetched. Winning one of the Oscar Awards for Twittering is a little more down to earth. And I am nothing if not practical.

So there you go. My ideas are in print and out in the cyber universe. Let’s review this time next year. I rarely succeed on my New Year’s resolutions, but as these aren’t resolutions, I’m feeling hopeful. I’m going to start with Item 7, by writing a tweet about this very post.

But whatever happens, I'm pretty sure I'll do better than this guy...

KH.