Wednesday, 12 December 2007

Still Alive...But My Soul Has Been Destroyed By Facebook

Three months without a post, hey? It's not the longest absence in the history of blogging but it is quite a stretch for this poor little blog. Thanks to Jacob for his 'lame' comment which coerced me back to the old keyboard (he's way too young for me, and totally uninterested in women but that doesn't mean I can't have an inappropriate cyber crush on the boy. That's what the internet is for!).

So, I promise I will have an actual post up by the end of the weekend, if I can drag myself away from Facebook and work long enough to write one. Working in retail at Christmas time: it's a wonder I can even form coherent sentences, let along entire paragraphs. What a blessed invention caffeine is.

Wednesday, 5 September 2007


You know what I hate? That feeling you get in your stomach when you have a crush on someone and all indications are that they like you too but it's all up in the air and nothing has really been officially said except for a Jager-bomb fuelled confession on Saturday night. And then all week you can't concentrate and you keep getting distracted by looking at the pictures on their Myspace and wondering about the hidden meanings behind every single interaction you have with them. And you're supposed to be doing something for uni which is due tomorrow but all of a sudden your degree is far less important than the possibility of seeing him this weekend. And your ears start to prick up whenever a sappy ballad comes on the radio as you imagine what your life would be like if finally you had a proper, healthy relationship with someone who makes your heart flutter whenever he's around.

Yeah, that feeling doesn't make me excited or optimistic. It fills me with anxiety and makes me unable to eat. It's awful. I'm nervous, I'm scatter-brained, I'm totally on edge. I hate not being in control, it makes me feel so vulnerable.

But Summer Heights High is on so that will abate my angst for a time. I so heart Mr. G.

Saturday, 25 August 2007

When The Feeling's Gone And You Can't Go On

Yes, yes, I'm blogging on a Saturday night. But for a very good reason. Five minutes ago I had my pants around my ankles and was very much enjoying myself with a younger lad who was (I thought) hell-bent on satisfying me. Apparently not.

He left.

Halfway through.

He's not coming back.

What the fuck is that all about?

How tragic at sex am I that the guy leaves before the good bit and doesn't return?

I'm going to be a lonely spinster after all... it's what my mother always told me.

Won't SOMEBODY have some sex with me?

Saturday, 18 August 2007

Why Have A Secret Blog If You Aren't Going To Bitch About People On It?

Note: this is long, boring and poorly written. Go here instead, to be entertained an informed by an enthusiastic dinosaur.

Ok, you might have read my reaction to my best friend splitting up with her boyfriend here. Back then I was all ‘Single girls are gonna rock out with our cocks out and paint this goddamn town red, foshizzle!!!’ Or something. But, as time has passed the initial relief of not having to put up with the boyfriend dramas has worn off. And the resentment of what I put up with for two and a half years is really starting to sink in.

Things were going pretty well until a few weeks when one of my lovely gal pals hosted a party. Much alcohol and merriment ensued, excellent barbequed food was consumed, drinking games enjoyed, there was a pav (a party isn’t really a party unless there’s a pavlova), some charming boys attended, and I got the chance to catch up with some long lost buddies from high school. All good. However, when one particular male friend was leaving, I was encouraged by my friend Teagan (by this stage, very drunk) and Annie (my best friend, had not been drinking) to follow him and kiss him. Basically, I’ve had a bit of history with this guy but currently I’m not at all interested in him and I told my friends this, thinking that would be the end of it. They continued to push, saying ‘kiss him, just do it’ and when I said ‘I’m capable of making my own decisions and I don’t want to’ they still wouldn’t relent. Then Annie gives me a verbal slap in the face by saying ‘Well, I’m not going to listen to you whinging tomorrow about how much you regret not kissing him.’

That cut like a knife. For two reasons:

Firstly, it suggests that I am incapable of making my own decisions and would be immediately remorseful that I didn’t stick my tongue down his throat like I was told to. Newsflash: I’m entitled to pash or not pash whomever I choose. If I say I don’t want to mack someone, then chances are I don’t want to mack them. End of story. Your peer pressure and ‘kiss him, go on KISS HIM’ are reminiscent of 14 year-olds behind the bus stop after school. We’re adults now, move on.

Secondly, and most importantly, even if I did regret it the next day, the one person I should be able to count on to listen to my whinging is my best friend. For fuxake, I listened to her dramas for years. Years. And she wasn’t prepared to give me One. Fucking. Day. So I told her what I thought of that. And we had a huge, public fight. Yep, classy, I know, but I wasn’t just going to let that one go. In the end she started crying and, much like a man, I cannot deal with tears. They unnerve me and make me lose my fighting spirit. So we made an uneasy truce and skolled cheap wine to forget about it.

But I guess the whole situation was indicative of what our friendship has become, and what I feel like I’ve become to her. I’m being taken for granted. And it fucking hurts. But I probably should have seen it coming. It follows the pattern of the way our friendship changed when she hooked up with her man. Suddenly I became the fall-back plan. Boyfriend away for the weekend? No worries, I’ll hang out with Mel instead. Had a massive fight and ‘broken up’? I’ll see if Mel wants to take me out and cheer me up. Oh, hang on, we just got back together… sorry Mel, I’ll have to give the shenanigans a miss this weekend, Shane and I are going to do couple stuff.

It was a recurring theme and I really should have nipped it in the bud sooner. But I have other friends, awesome friends who were always happy to drink and dance and cause trouble with me so I just started spending a lot more time with them. And having a lot more fun. In fact, a large part of the reason why I’m moving next weekend is to be closer to them so we can involve ourselves in even more debauchery. These girls love me, I know that for sure, and I’ve never felt like I was a contingency plan to them. They want to hang out with me because I’m twelve kinds of awesome not because the person they really want to be spending time with is unavailable.

So I’m starting to realise that Annie’s new singledom isn’t going to be as great as I initially thought. See, she wants all my time now. As is often the case with long time pals, we have a lot of mutual friends and the last few weekends have been heavy on parties and social occasions involving our wider circle of friends. Consequently, we have been spending a lot of time together. And I desperately want my distance. But she doesn’t want to spend a weekend alone (she hasn’t spent any time by herself since the break-up) because she doesn’t want to be reminded that the single life can be lonely. Well, tough shit sweetheart. The single life IS lonely at times. Sometimes it’s lonely and depressing and confidence crushing. I’m not going to constantly entertain her so that she doesn’t have to open her eyes and see the reality of her decision.

Selfish as it sounds, I want to keep my friends and our mutual friends separate. When I go out with my posse of girls I don’t want to feel obligated to invite her. If she doesn’t have anything to do that Saturday night, too bad. It’s not my job to fill in all the time she used to spend with her man. I cultivated my own friendships in that time and there’s no way I would give them up just because she’s bored or lonely. It’s not that I’m trying to be spiteful, I’m not motivated by thoughts like ‘she ditched me, now that she’s single I’m going to do the same to her’, it’s more a case of wanting to feel appreciated and gravitating towards the people who make me feel the best about myself.

Annie and I have been friends for ten years so I don’t think it’s just going to fall to pieces, but there was definitely a shift when she entered what Cosmo would call ‘The Boyfriend Cave’ (fuck you Cosmo and your fucking dating catchphrases) and that can’t be repaired by saying ‘hey, I’m single now, lets go back to the way we were’. Like I said, I have a lot of resentment towards her because she really hurt me and fucked me over on a lot of occasions. She ditched my Mum’s 50th party at the last minute because she and Shane got back together and he wanted to go camping that night. So they went camping. She fought with him via phone every single day on our girly road trip earlier this year. Including my birthday. The same thing happened at the festival we went to for New Years Eve. And practically every night we were out together. Fun, hey?

Writing it all down makes me feel like a total sucker for putting up with her shit for so long. I think any sane person would have cut their losses and ended the friendship a long time ago. I guess deep down inside I hold this hope that things will return to the way they used to be and everything will be puppy dogs and rainbows again. But that isn’t going to happen. And it makes me sad.

Friday, 17 August 2007

A Post In Dot Points

Hey Mel, way to neglect your poor fledgling blog. I have been exceptionally slack with my posting of late, but I shall endeavour to update more regularly. It's funny, I always have so much that I think 'I've gotta blog about that' and then when I actually sit down in front of the computer I think 'actually, that's probably not funny/interesting to anybody except me'. But now I think 'fuck it, most blogs aren't funny or interesting anyway'. Except of course, all the blogs I read. So on with the post:

  • You might remember that I reluctantly joined MySpace a while back? Now I've also become one of the schmucks on Facebook. It's ok though, Facebook is cool. By far the best thing about it is the unexpectedly awesome groups you can join. Some of the groups I rushed to join include 'The Big Mazungo is a complete SAVAGE', 'Good grammar is hot', Where I come from, we believe in a thing called "The Courtesy Wave"', and my personal favourite, the obscenely politically incorrect 'The dolphin from Seaquest DSV told Jonathon Brandis to do it'. Oh Darwin, you were an evil, evil beast.

  • I've finally found a new place to live in, unfortunately I will be sharing with three other girls. This has me slightly concerned, as I grew up with brothers and have never lived with more than one other female at a time. I'm hoping that my unhealthy obsession with cricket won't have me labeled as the 'house lesbian' and cause everyone to shift awkwardly whenever I sit next to them on the couch. And I should probably give up my penchant for wrestling in spilled condiments on the kitchen floor. It's becoming increasingly obvious that others don't enjoy it anywhere near as much as I do.

  • Of course, I am not a lesbian, I'm a red-blooded woman who is very attracted to men. But recently when offered the chance to have a threesome with two guys that I have known since high school I was quite turned off. Partly it's because I've always thought threesomes involving 2 guys were strange (are they going to touch each other? are they secretly gay and just wanted to get naked together in a more acceptable situation?) but also because these two guys are both very well endowed and the thought of those two penises coming at me from all angles was slightly frightening. Needless to say, I went home by myself that night.

  • Have you ever wondered what the stuff inside a glow stick tastes like? Neither have I but after an unfortunate mishap at work, where I displayed the true depths of my idiocy, I now know that it takes quite disgusting and will turn your saliva neon orange (or whatever colour the glow stick you bite happens to be). For several minutes I panicked and wondered if I could the chemicals inside would slowly seep into my body and leave me dead by morning, but you'll be happy to know that despite a red face and an unenviable reputation as 'the girl who eats glow sticks' I am perfectly fine.

  • I'm far more proud of my reputation as Grammar Nazi though. I've always been a stickler for grammar and pronunciation but lately I have taken it to extremes. I interrupted a friend in the middle of him explaining the details of his break-up (yes, another freaking break-up) to let him know that he should have said 'Louisa and I' not 'Louisa and me'. Insensitive, much? But somebody has to do it. The English language is being raped left, right and center, and nobody seems concerned at all. Don't even get me started on the prevalence of the word 'random'. *shudder* Anytime someone can't be fucked searching the recesses of their mind for an appropriate adjective they just use 'random'. That word doesn't actually convey any emotion or description, you're not giving me any details people! I'm thinking about carrying a little pocket thesaurus in my handbag to thrust in people's faces whenever they seem to be having trouble. It might not win me a lot of friends but at least I'll be happy. (Note: use of random as a noun is perfectly fine eg. pashed a random, caught venereal disease from a random etc.)

  • Under the heading of 'stupidest decisions I've ever made' I've committed myself to training for, and completing, a freaking marathon. I don't know what possessed me to set a goal like that, I don't normally set goals at all let alone ones that could leave me in hospital on a drip for several days. It's not completely out of the blue, I do run, and I recently completed a 15km race with little trouble. So, stupidly I decided I could run almost 3 times that far.... and then told all my friends and family that I wanted to do a marathon. And once it's been said, there's no backing out. But I've decided that when I finish it, I'm rewarding myself with a tattoo. I've considered getting one for ages but wanted it to represent something I went through, either an achievement or a loss, so that it's more than just a tramp stamp. But yes, expect updates on the training and please give me moral support, I need all the helpful words I can get.

Ok, that was longer than I had anticipated for my 'comeback' post (I'm so John Farnhamesque) but at least it got the ball rolling. I have some major bitching that I can't do in real life, so stay tuned for that, probably over the weekend.

Tuesday, 24 July 2007

All Was Well?

I finished the book yesterday. I thought it was a bit meh to be honest. Some of the early content (at the Dursley home) which was quite touching, could really have been followed up later instead of that horrible, wet, overindulgent epilogue. To my mind a more appropriate epilogue would have focused on six months to a year down the track to see the immediate effects of the final battle in terms of the casualties, and the restoring of order back into Hogwarts and the Ministry of magic. Also, I wanted to know about elves and goblins. Were they integrated more successfully into the wizarding world after the realisation that their mistreatment was a costly mistake in many ways? Does anybody else care about this or am the lone voice of dissent?

I didn't think that many of the deaths were handled well. Only two of them really affected me, both of these deaths were non-human. The only other time I cried was when Harry, with his zombie posse, bravely marched into the forest to meet his fate. I was prepared to give this book all my tears but I don't think it really deserved them.

More importantly, do y'all think Ms. Rowling has had some work done? Like a LOT of work done? That's definitely a different nose. And she looks much more youthful now than in the older photo. Maybe she should spend some of her dosh fixing her teeth though; I've never seen a picture of her actually smiling. I'm guessing she's got some hideous English chompers hidden away in there. Or she's terribly unhappy. I still think it's the bad teeth.

Thursday, 19 July 2007

Three Unrelated Things

Why are my Uni holidays going for so long? It is quite perplexing. Most of my friends at other Unis went back on Monday, some are going back this coming Monday but I am a lady of leisure until the 30th. I’m really not utilising the freedom though, instead I’m spending my days working, and trawling share accommodation websites trying to find a new place to live. Hooray for responsibilities.

So I’ve just finished watching the whole first series of Torchwood, courtesy of a sci-fi obsessed mother and her propensity to foist DVDs upon me, and can I just say – Phwoar! That show is a definite case for there being more man-on-man action on TV. Captain Jack getting it on with his man-servant Ianto? Hawt. Captain Jack getting it on with Captain Jack? Uber hawt. God I’m hoping that John Barrowman and David Tennant pash in the current series of Doctor Who. That would likely leave me sexually fulfilled for the rest of eternity. Note: I may be more starved of human contact than I previously realised.

And in a most unfortunate turn of events, despite my overwhelming desire to lock myself in my bedroom this weekend and read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows from cover to cover, I am required instead to work, and to placate my friends by attending various birthdays and going-away parties. Who organises a party to coincide with the release of the new Harry Potter book? Hello! That’s akin to holding your wedding on AFL Grand Final day or your funeral on the same day as the Melbourne Cup. My time would be far better spent reading about the new wondrous events in Harry’s world, and secretly imagining myself as the meat in a Daniel Radcliffe/Sean Biggerstaff sandwich. (Biggerstaff played Oliver Wood in the early movies. He is terribly attractive, has a sexy Scottish accent, and, let’s face it, a name that promises so very much.)
But I am forced to postpone the book until Monday, by which time some fuckwit will have spoiled the ending by telling me that Harry impregnates Ginny before dying, thus leaving another child wizard to grow up fatherless and resentful, ensuring Rowling has enough teenage angst to fill another seven books. She’s a clever one, that J.K.

In conclusion: men kissing other men - good. Friends who deny me the immediate pleasure of learning Harry’s fate - bad. Wasting precious holiday time doing mundane tasks - utterly depressing.