Archive | April, 2013


26 Apr

ImageI am by no means mysophobic[1]; why just the other morning I ate a croissant that a previous patron nibbled and left on our table at a café. But what I cannot abide is the sharing of toiletries between members of a household, even if they are family.

* Oh no! Not in Big Momma’s house! *

Evidently my sister’s recent adoption of my razor is making me Amanda Bynes crazy. I don’t know what’s worse; the fact that I have used something on my face that has at one time or another high thighed my sister or that it seems to be strategically timed with visits from her boyfriend. I guess you could say she’s rubbing it in my face[2].

* Newman! *

I also got hit on this week by a beautician who took my friendly conversation during a state of undress as a go ahead to rest her hand on my bum for a rather protracted period of time. I didn’t mention it so she gave me a discount. I have subsequently added another job to my career path. It now reads:

1)    Get divorced (twice).

2)    Become a prostitute.

I had to remove “Be Maggie Smith” because I don’t have the cheekbones.

* Love you. Love everything about you. Thinking about being you for Halloween. *

Anyway without sounding like I have a thing for “damaged goods” or that I’m part of a self-fulfilling child of divorce prophecy where every relationship is doomed to fail. I have come to the realisation that bar one or two people I’ve dated, the rest have all had some serious underlying issues. Issues that I tried my hardest to help them deal with often at my own detriment. Then once they have achieved a state of normalcy they dump me[3]. I don’t want to be the one who brings people up to dateable level. I don’t want to be The Starter Boyfriend because Debra Messing terrifies me.

* Will find nice sensible boyfriend to go out with and not continue to form romantic attachments to any of the following alcoholics, workaholics, commitment-phobics peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits, or perverts. *

I don’t really like getting emotional; I don’t think anyone really does unless they’re on The Biggest Loser. It’s just so much easier to laugh and joke than address real issues. That’s why we have ice cream, retail therapy and anonymous blogs. Emotions are gross and I’m an even more unattractive crier than any of the vampires on True Blood.

* This is the first time I’ve ever seen you look ugly, and that makes me kinda happy. *

I have a couple of PostSecret style confessions to make:

1)    Sometimes I pour part of my wine into my bath because I think it will make me a youthful alcoholic.

2)    If I’m at home alone I’m in one of three outfits.

  1. Naked.
  2. Naked with bathrobe.
  3. Naked with cheese platter.

3)    I think cargo pants are the human equivalent of saddlebags. Saddlebags filled with the regret and rage that 35 years olds feel when they’re still living at home with their parents.

4)    I skip the first 10 minutes of Disney Pixar’s UP.

5)    My mother still cuts my hair.

6)    I narrate when I drive because I find it reassuring.

7)    I watch Embarrassing Bodies with my family.

8)    I once ran over a possum and didn’t stop.

9)    I will always tell people if they have lipstick on their snaggletooth.

10) I can’t touch cotton wool balls because they hurt my teeth.

11) I sometimes sit the other way round on the toilet for fun.

12) I only listen to “cool” music on the bus cause I’m worried people can hear through my headphones.

13) Urinals terrify me.

14) I have never kissed a guy while completely sober (except once we’re dating).

15) One of my exes tried to Simba me.

16) I think my cat understands me better than some people.

17) I own a replica of Snape’s wand from Harry Potter[4].

18) I believe in ghosts.

19) I’ve been cheated on twice.

20) When I was discussing a hypothetical situation where I have children with my friend, my offspring referred to me as “mummy”.

I guess I’m kind of weird…Oh well, I better get back to making my Snapchats into famous portraits and having a heart to heart with my good friend SavvyB (Sauvignon Blanc).

* Everybody loves me, and I intend to keep it that way. *

[1] Also known as germophobic or spermophobic. No joke. Sperm.

[2] Adding insult to injury tells she tells me out of the blue that she’s going on a holiday to the Whitsundays with her boyfriend and that I’m single and alone.

[3] I have never broken up with anyone I have always been the one who is broken up with. Half of which were over coffee in the morning while it’s raining so now I hesitate to combine those three things in any capacity of my life.

[4] Amongst other memorabilia including the Marauders Map, two Slytherin scarves, a Slytherin Beanie, a Deathly Hallows necklace, several Hogwarts badges and a signed copy of One Day in the Life of Daniel Radcliffe.


Age of Enlightenment

19 Apr

ImageThe closest I’ve ever come to enlightenment was when I shut my eyes during The Blue Planet narrated by David Attenborough and imagined myself riding a dolphin naked with Matt Bomer.

* How interesting. What a gripping life you do lead. *

Which is why, in an effort to reach an Alex Pettyfer filled nirvana; I have taken up bed yoga. No, that’s not some code for my non-existent yet strangely gymnastic sex life. It is as it sounds. Doing yoga from the comfort and warmth of your own bed. It’s pretty amazing. I don’t even have to get out of my pajamas and the only persons flatulence issues I have to deal with are my own.

*What are you doing? Horizontal running. *

It truly is the most fun a boy could have lying down that doesn’t involve chocolate.

* Chocolate! Chocolate! Chocolate! Aack! *

As a parenthesis to last week’s discussion of costume parties it turns out I didn’t go to “The Sound of Music” party after all. I ended up going out till 6am and requested Bette Davis Eyes at every club instead.

* Dance! Dance! Dance until you die! *

So short and punchy with my paragraphs this week! More like paralaughs aye, aye! And considering how well that pun went down I imagine it was paraplegic…and now I am feeling more judgment than the time I dressed as Walt Disney and the hosts’ parents thought I’d dressed as Hitler. I got a tiny slice of cake and no lolly bag. That, ladies and gentlemen, was the very last time I let my mother do my makeup.

* What on earth are you wearing? You look like a common prostitute. *

Come to think of it, that’s probably the root of my desire to please people for food-based rewards as well.

* Am enjoying a relationship with two men simultaneously. The first is called Ben, the other, Jerry. *

In other news I think I may have been struck down with a case of Slut Throat aka Glandular Fever. Perhaps it’s just my cyberchondria playing up but between Project Free TV, news searches for Kelly Clarkson and Facebook (I cant be bothered to type the Facebook URL into the address bar) medical symptoms seem to form the majority of my Google searches. And Google has pronounced me sick or already dead.

* I’m just one stomach flu away from my goal weight. *

To be fair I do have a slight tendency to overreact. I once called my friend who studies nursing in a complete panic complaining of chest pains and severe cramps. I had already decided I was having a heart attack and written a farewell note to my family and friends in my iPhone. He eventually managed to calm me down and asked me what I’d been doing and what I’d eaten that day. As it turns out eating 4 separate sandwiches then going for a run for the first time in 3 months is a good way to induce some pretty serious heartburn.

* I already feel like an idiot most of the time anyway – with or without a fireman’s pole. *

I suppose it’s just as well my phone got cut off today because I’ve just noticed a sinister looking mole that really should to be photographed and sent to all my friends studying medicine for evaluation. Maybe I’ll Snapchat it instead, give it some fangs or a sexy mohawk. Who knows, maybe even a little Hitler moustache.

* Welcome to Germany. Auf Wiedersehen, asshole. *

Why Are You Dressed So Scary?

12 Apr

ImageWhat could be a more disastrous Friday night than staying in and eating cold leftovers while watching Dante’s Peak? Oh right, choosing an outfit for your mother to wear on a date. A date that arrives 5 minutes early and requires you to entertain him. What a horrendous prom night role reversal!

* Oh somebody kill me please, somebody kill me please, I’m on my knees, pretty pretty please kill me *

I’ve spent the last couple of days reading Memoirs of a Geisha and I decided that I should try to adopt some of their principles like grace, poise and the ability to walk in ill-fitting shoes.

* Would you excuse me? I cut my foot before and my shoe is filling up with blood. *

So it is only right that I welcomed her date into our home, offered him some tea and a seat in our living room. What a well-mannered host! If only I could say that I was just as composed at a certain impromptu birthday dinner at my friends house earlier in the week.

At my request she cooked me a birthday stew! There was even wine and cake. What more could a boy want? Oh, perhaps an awkward, pointy triangle of sexual tension with Mitch Buchannon and her other housemate Ryan Atwood. As it turns out Mitch is a friend of someone else in the house who invited him over for tea. Immediately after my friend had just mentioned that Ryan is cute and totally available.

* Damn, damn, double damn! *

I even sat on my knees for 20 minutes and tried to make polite conversation while the house trolled for penis pictures on Grindr in order to create a “Wall of Dicks”; Another brilliant suggestion by yours truly. When the conversation came to a lull I had seconds, then thirds and by the time it came for everyone to go to bed I got a lift home with Mitch. Damn him and his quick, free and non-public transportation.

Don’t worry though; I managed to keep it together during the car ride. We even shared a delightfully awkward Voldermort hug…then sexting happened.

* Very bad start to the year. Have been seduced by informality of messaging medium into flirting with office scoundrel. *

I suppose I should have modeled myself on a better vocation rather than one made up of mysterious women who get completely over-dressed, encourage excessive drinking, and artfully manipulate wealthy men’s affections in order to become their mistress.

Speaking of getting overly dressed I’m supposed to attend a house party tomorrow night in some form of costume. Alas it’s not “Tarts and Vicars” themed but rather “The Sound of Music”. So short of wearing whiskers, a blue satin sash or a Hitler youth outfit I’m kind of stuck.

I do have a tendency to somewhat overdress at costume parties. I often find myself at the Cady Heron end of the spectrum. The worst part is I don’t normally know a lot of people at these parties so I think that a funny costume will be a good icebreaker.

So without further ado here are five examples to contrary:

  1. A Friend’s 21st birthday. The theme was “Black, White & Gold”. I interpreted that as an excuse to go as male Ke$ha. She raps (Black), she’s white trash (White) and likes to be covered in semen and roll in glitter (Gold). Everyone thought I was a stripper.
  2. Halloween 2011. I got changed in a quiet lane in the dark and sculled a few beers before turning up to the party in a Miss Trunchbull outfit. Now this would probably be fine if not slightly terrifying. But I also decided to bring with me a small doll with blonde pigtails and a box of chocolates that I would offer people only to deny them and scream loudly “Much too good for children!” I’d rather be locked in the chokey than talk to me.
  3. Halloween 2012. I got a taxi this time and just as well because I had inadvertently dressed in black face. I had purchased black paint, a giant sheet a single red helium balloon and a plastic pumpkin. I intended to be invisible from the neck up in the darkness after I’d painted my face and neck. I hoped I looked something like “The Ghost of Halloweens Past” Instead I looked like the ghost of Michael Jackson. Just as well my pumpkin doubled as bucket sized beer glass.
  4. A Friends’ combined 22nd Birthday. The theme was “Offensive”. I printed out an A3 sized picture of a “Blue Waffle” and hung it around my neck. Enough said.
  5. Halloween 2013. My friends and I have a plan to dress as euphemisms for vagina. Think George Bush masks, a box, a taco, a Venus flytrap, a gash, meat curtains, a wizards sleeve, a penis cozy – you get the idea.

For “The Sound of Music” 2013, I’m thinking a white shirt with this on it:

Maria =Image

Get it? It’s one of the Millennium Prize Problems from the Clay Mathematics Institute. I call it: “How do You Solve a Problem Like Maria”.

Look, at least it’s pretty innocuous if not marginally pretentious. Who knows, perhaps I’ll meet an attractive, smart yet bashful mathematician that’s into horrible puns and loves romantic comedies. I’m more likely, statistically speaking to scare the other guests and compensate by drinking too much. Forget “Adelweiss” it’s time Adelwine bitches.

* Better beware, be canny and careful, baby you’re on the brink.*


5 Apr


Two days after turning 23, Friday night finds me alone after half a bottle of red, crying in the shower with sour cream in my eye. Let’s shift it back about half an hour before I had visions of the same scenario 30 years on where I break my hip and drown childless and alone smelling like a Cabernet cream sauce.

* This is worse than the time the raccoon got in the copier! *

I’ve just finished the four-course dinner I’d made for myself: bacon and eggs, crackers and dip, after dinner nachos followed by ice cream covered with the remains of a Lindt chocolate bunny. Lying on my bed, shirtless, but still in my work pants and shoes. I get some cat hair up my nose and start sneezing. Rubbing my nose and then my eye. I begin to feel a white-hot burning sensation. Lucky for me I was typing at the time. So in between realizing it’s not chlamydia and running to the fridge I managed to record my stream of consciousness:


* A woman’s whole life in a single day. Just one day. And in that day her whole life. *

Not to mention I’ve already put off exercise for a week because I’m now two years shy of a quarter century and my best years are behind me. I also feel like I’ve just killed Santa Claus. And not in the funny “I’ve got a new job ho-ho-ho” Tim Allen kind of way. The “I’ve just found out my childhood has been a cluster-fuck of lies and now I’m old and jaded and I look like a Salvador Dali painting without my clothes on” kind of way.

* Your life is like Gossip Girl, only everyone is old and poor. *

Even the angry 13-year-old girl that is my subconscious wants me to suffer. The two dreams I can remember having since Wednesday include:

  1. Going back in time to find my ex boyfriend, using my knowledge of future him to make him fall in love with me before telling him I was, in fact, from the future. Rookie error. Don’t ever stop giving them the love potion just because you think that they actually love you. That’s what the potion is meant to do. So of course, he tries to kill me.
  2. I meet a hot guy at a bus stop (I know, I know. My dreams may not be glamorous but they are realistic and depressing) who I try to flirt with and get shut down. He then proceeds to tell me he is in fact gay but not interested. Preferring instead to prod my body that wasn’t sculpted in the gay steel mills of America and giggle.

* I suddenly realized that unless something changed soon I was going to live a life where my major relationship was with a bottle of wine.[1] *

But enough of the self-pity, I also did stupid things while intoxicated:

  1. I swapped shirts with someone
  2. I played a version of 3 Men 30[2]
  3. It was 4 Men 30
  4. I got a bus home because I was saving money
  5. I fell asleep, drooled on myself and it looked like pee
  6. I sent an oddly coherent and cutting message to Mitch Buchannon
  7. I threw up in the shower
  8. I did some drunk online shopping[3]

Oh and then I applied for postgrad law.

* Do you think she just woke up one morning and said, ‘I think I’ll go to law school today’? *


Time to put on Bridget Jones’s Diary and play my favourite game: Reciting all the lines word for word and finishing my bottle of wine.

[1] Coincidentally a close friend sent out invites to her party asking people to let her know if they wanted a plus one for their partner or in my case if I wanted to bring a “significant bottle of wine.”

[2] A game invented on the night of my 21st birthday where 2 friends and I had to hook up with 3 different guys in under 30 minutes.

[3] I really don’t need a minimalist poster of Finding Nemo or an UP Grape Soda pin replica. I blame it on listening to my Disney mix before bed.