Betty is a bad blogger.

My poor blog has sat neglected for well over a week now, despite fervent promises to regularly update it.

I wrote a fantastically bitchy (trust me here) post about how the rain brings out the concealed madness lurking in every stony-faced Sydneysider, but when I hit post, it vanished… only serving to bring my own madness to the forefront.

I’ve been listening to the new album by Missy Higgins (good… yes, it’s a bit same-ish, but I liked her old stuff so it doesn’t worry me that her new stuff is similar in style).

I’ve been lamenting the death of our microwave, which decided to go out with a bang (literally) on Monday night.

I’ve been baking biscuits for no good reason.

I went and saw Paris Je’Taime at the flicks with a couple of my girlies, and it was great.  It was one of those films that the term "life-affirming" was invented to describe. Very highly recommended.  It made me want to go back to Paris so much though.

And on Thursday, it was my birthday.  So I am now 22.  How exciting.  I got a chocolate cake with 22 candles at work and lollies which put me on a sugar high so I was a proofreading supermachine… and then I had a sugar crash and could barely focus on the words on the page.  Everyone sung Happy Birthday and I blushed and looked at my feet, and then we went to the pub, I was tipsy after two glasses of wine because I have become some sort of old lady of late who thinks that an awesome night is watching Lateline while baking biscuits.  We then went and saw Becoming Jane at the cinema and it was shit.

A short review by moi;

Becoming Jane takes the best plot lines from Jane Austen’s works and removes the interesting bits like sexual tension, comical characters, wit, happy endings and Mr Darcy.  Instead we are left with a historically inaccurate "portrayal" of Jane Austen’s life.  It was a trip in to dull whimsy where the only thing keeping my attention was James McEvoy’s reasonable hotness.  There was not even anything visually impressive (besides the aforementioned McEvoy) to distract from the lack of a plot.  Painfully slow moving, with no uplifting elements at all, the film didn’t even pass the fluff test.  It was shit.

But my 22nd birthday was alright.  Next week is my graduation ceremony, and that should be boring, but the drinking session before and after should be good.

And that is all you have missed out on hearing about dear readers.