Everything I Know...

Well, here I am at mum and dad's. Home. The one place I can fully relax and be myself and not worry about housework or my job or cooking a meal. I get to offload all my health worries onto my mum, who worries enough for all of us. Dad is out doing some military exercise with a bunch of new officers, so won't be back until Thursday. I can't wait to see him, I hope he takes me fishing.

On the train on the way down, I saw a cow scratch it's ear with it's hind leg!

I just bought 4 H.G Wells books for 99c on ebay, including The Time Machine, which I've been meaning to read again for years.

I had a dream last night that I was speed dating, and you know what I thought? In my dream? "Oooh, this'll fun to blog about!" Loser.

Mum and I are taking our little doggie to the groomers this afternoon, who will no doubt do something poofy like put bows in her fur. The thing is my dog looks girly because she's fluffy and happy, but we all know that she's a roughie who likes to wrestle and she barks like a man.

This post makes no sense and follows no pattern, but I'm on 'olidays so who cares?

...Just wish I had a crystal ball
To show me, if it's worth it all...
Jem - Falling for You

It really is! And what a coincidence that I have 8 days off in a row!

I'll be where the Whitest Sand In The World is to visit my family.

OOooooh, I hope I get some sun. I'm so bloody sick of this rain!

Ahhhhhh, my apartment is clean! CLEAN! Not just neat, but really, really clean! We have a "routine house inspection" tomorrow so all three of us and our honorary house mate rolled up our sleeves and got cleanin' in our own little corner. I volunteered for the kitchen. Idiot.

We also FINALLY counted all of the change that my man has collected over the course of the year. It came to $500! In change! It weighs a freakin' tonne.



On a sadder note, looks like Bert Newton got the boot . Many a morning was spent watching Bert and his hilarious antics that more often than not contained sexual innuendo galore. A friend that I haven't seen for AGES came over a few weeks ago for a BBQ and said "I saw Bert Newton the other day and I immediately thought of you." Yes, Bert quite often took precedent over Marketing and English lectures. Some mornings I'd even wait until Bert finished before I went to the beach. I was hooked. As I grew up and got a job that required me to be at my desk before Bert even started, I saw less and less of him...I still love his hair plugs and plastic-looking face, but I guess his time has come.

Farewell Bert! I'll miss you ol' Moonface!

"Why don't you go and have a lie down honey?" He says as he walks past with a mop in his hand.

Wha...?

I love it when he senses that I need some time to wind down after work, I love it even more when he is cleaning our bathroom.

I'm so ridiculously tired. The weekend was long and today seemed to S-T-R-E-T-C-H. I've been told that if I keep up how I'm going I'm going to get a huge payrise by the end of the year, so I'm busting my butt to maintain all my hard work. Today felt like I was going backwards. I had so much work to do, but it was one of those days where every customer I spoke to wanted to chat about their family, work, lack of money, domestic violence orders and child support worries. I found myself thinking "who cares?" when it is my job to care.

Walking home I passed a man carrying a man-bag. It was a brown leather one that he held between his body and his elbow. As strange as it is, at that moment I felt hugely sorry for all men. It must suck to not have anywhere acceptable to put your crap when you're shopping or walking around doing errands, except for in your pockets. It's ok for men who carry a briefcase, this is an acceptable man-bag, but what about on the weekend? Where does their crap go then? This is the reason some guys resort to bum-bags (fanny packs). It drives me crazy to see a guy with a stupid bum-bag hung casually over their shoulder. I always get the urge to yank it off and clip it around their waist. Bum-bags are daggy any way you wear them, but over the shoulder is by far the daggiest. Especially if it's an Adidas bum-bag. Some men even carry those ugly green woolworths shopping bags. They pretend they've just been shopping, but I know that it contains their wallet, phone, chapstick, daily planner, light cardigan in case it gets cool, lunch, a newspaper and any other crap that they decide is important enough to lug around... oh wait, that's my handbag.

So to recap... I'd hate to be a guy. I love being a girl. I need some sleep.

I went to a friend's wedding last night. This is a pretty big deal for me because up until now, I'd only attended the weddings of family members. This was my first "friend wedding". I know that there will be plenty more in the next couple of years. In fact we're going to another wedding in just a few weeks. Everyone is doing the whole "you guys will be next" wink wink nudge nudge thing. Drives me crazy. When we're ready we'll be ready... a post on this topic will undoubtedly be written sooner rather than later...
Anyway, last night was a blast. I got to shake my shit on the dance floor for a while, that is until the Greek contingent of the wedding took over the dance floor to show us how it's done. Man, they had STAMINA. Even the great grandmother of the bride, who had flown over from Greece especially, didn't sit down once the DJ started playing Zorba etc. We gave it a go, but got shafted out pretty quickly (not coordinated enough you see) and not a moment too soon. There were times when I thought my arm would be ripped from it's socket by the ever-moving dancing circle.

On a totally unrelated note...
Why does everyone think Flashdance is a great movie? I mean really? Something happens when she hears the music. It's her freedom. It's her fire. It's her life. I just finished watching it and I'm astounded by the sheer ridiculousness of it. I won't go on, but there is one particular moment when I was completely confused. It was the whole lobster head job innuendo. I was like "huh? where the hell did that come from?" And the dance routines? All I could think about was Ben Stiller's moves in Starsky and Hutch. Veeery similar.

So Monday tomorrow.. that totally sucks.

... my 16 year old cousin is a father...

I started out 2005 in a fantastic (read: low paying) job that enabled me to at least pretend that I was using my degree. I commuted 3 hours a day to the city to work in the advertising section of a national newspaper. Every morning on the 5:30am train ride I'd plug my iPod into my ears, lay back and dream of traveling the world, the WHOLE world. And every evening on the 5pm train back home I'd do exactly the same. I had it all planned out, a round-the-world ticket, travel for two years with my man and return to Australia to grow my career, get married and have children.

Now I have a job that is a 5 minute walk from my apartment and I don't have as much time to daydream, but it's still there in the back of my head, only now I have other things that I'm desperate to do, like write a book, own a business and own my own home. I'm not poor or destitute by any means, but I don't have any real serious cash. So let's just say I'll put those ideas on hold, not permenantly, but let's just say that I'll need to either marry rich or win lotto.

I'm only 24 so I'm not too concerned about choosing my life plan immediately, however I'd like to know what I want to be by the time I'm 30. Gah! What do I do? Leave a perfectly tediously well-paying, stable government position so I can be a pub-working, 2 minute-noodle eating backpacker? I wouldn't just be giving up my job, I'd have to give up my apartment, my furniture and quite possibly my favourite man in the world (apart from my dad)...

So, here we are only two months away from the new year and I feel like I've achieved very little - sure my life is different to a year ago and I'm a much much happier person... but has anything really changed?

Tennessee Williams said To be free is to have achieved your life.
I guess I have a ways to go...

Strawberrynet.com is very, very fun.

I have an obsession that I'd like to share with you.

Well, I have a number of obsessions, but one of the more bizarre things I do regularly is check my spam. I on average get about 5-10 per day and they disappear straight to my little junk mail folder. I don't even have to look at them if I don't want to- but I do. Daily.

It all started a few years ago when I became a little too interested in entering online competitions and subsequently was bombarded with every offer imaginable. I still am sometimes fooled by the enticing messages which lure me with subject lines that read "Here is the pic!" or "Pics from the other night". I think to myself Well, it could be real... Anyhow, I started letting my junk mail folder take care of itself.

Until one day...

Imagine my horror when I opened my spam folder to see a message from a friend of mine urging me to "Come to my 21st!" Why was it in my spam folder? What if I didn't check? I would have assumed I was not invited. Was it there just because it was addressed to more than 50 people? I'm guessing so, however I never took that chance again.

Religiously. That is how I now check my spam folder.

I may have to spend a few minutes everyday deleting offers for penis enlargers, boob enhancers and credit cards with phenomenally low interest rates, but I can rest assured I will never miss an invitation to a party again.

P.S. When I was in America there was a cool advertisement for Spam - Crazy Tasty! I still giggle like an idiot when I think of it... Same with that psychotic Quizno's commerical.

Sunday night - so bitter sweet... Relaxed - but at the back of my mind I know I have to work ALL WEEK.

Three years ago at around this time on a Sunday night I would be at the dodgy club down the road drinking $2 vodka and raspberries and shaking my shit on the dance floor. It was a given that we would be out regardless of whether I had class or work in the morning. You see, we never went out on a Saturday, that was 'local' night and we were by no means locals. Perish the thought! Well, nowadays I am a local. I've lived in this little city for 5 years and my friend and I now laugh about how it was social suicide to stay at home on a Wednesday or Sunday night. Maybe we're just getting old, or maybe the scene was getting to be same-old same-old. I still go out and party and admittedly binge drink regularly, however it's a different type of going out. It used to be all about going out to meet new guys, nowadays I prefer to hang out with the guys I know. I still love meeting new people, but I also love catching up with my mates and having a chat.

My weekend started innocently enough... dinner with a co-worker. It all came undone when I ordered not one, not two, but three gigantic margaritas. Suffice to say, the night just snowballed and I ended up at a night club. Met a really nice guy who was great friend potential, however his psycho friend decided that I was teasing him because I have a boyfriend.

Um, excuse me? Since when did talking to a guy in a club mean that you want to have sex with them?
Oh, it's always meant that... but why can't it change? I like guys and not just to hook up with! As friends. Crazy, I know...

Fast forward 8 hours - I've never been so hungover in my LIFE! Saturday was basically a write-off. DVDs and naps all round.

Sunday was nice, I met my mum and sister at a mall about 30 minutes from where I live and finally bought shoes for the wedding I have to attend next weekend. I'm all set now, except for the clutch that I anticipate will magically appear for 50% off...

So here I am snuggled up on my couch, squeaky clean hair, freshly shaved legs and a lovely layer of Ella Bache fake tan. I'm set for the week. Having an early shower rocks. I remember when we were kids, on Sundays my sister and I would always be bathed by 5:30 and into our pajamas, parked in front of the TV, laying on our stomachs, our faces propped up by our hands, ready for Get Smart which started at 6. Dinner was typically toasted cheese sandwiches or eggs on toast and we were always in bed by 8. I loved the whole Sunday ritual and I still associate the Get Smart theme tune with toasted cheese sandwiches and clean hair.

Ok, bed beckons... big week ahead! Good night.

It's Friday! I practically jumped out of bed this morning. It really helps that the sun is shining so brightly through my window. And as much as I am not a morning person, I'm in a brilliant mood today! It's lovely. I was even up early enough to eat breakfast, I hardly ever do, which is very lazy of me considering I don't start work each and every day at 10:30am. I'm a snooze button whore. I'll set my alarm for 9am and hit snooze until 9:30 and then schlepp around for 40 minutes.

So, I'm sitting here eating my swiss muesli and OJ fielding calls from Indian call centres wanting to switch me over to so-and-so phone service. Seriously, I've hung up on some guy twice already.

I'll most likely be heading into the City over the weekend for a bit of shopping and partying. I'm generally a pub girl, but going out in the city is fun sometimes. Sydney is so much busier and crowded than I'm used to and there'll be a bunch of us there. My theory is no matter where you are, as long as you're with a great group, you'll have fun.

So enjoy your weekend everyone, peace!

So tired!
Today was my first fully functional day back at work and I am bushed! I had a rostered day off yesterday and spent it exactly as I had planned it - soaking up the rays in the 30 degree heat - summer is so here already and summer is my season. I always look a billion time healthier in summer, not to mention a few kgs lighter.. Anyway, I got in that quality sun time and still had a couple of hours to shop.

I had my hair cut and colored today... I'm sure any girl reading this can relate... I feel soooo relieved that I've finally found a good hairdresser. I've had my fair share of crazies and owing to the fact that my sister is a hairdresser, I'm pretty fussy. My WORST hate in the world of hair dressing is loud music that requires the hairdresser to yell in your ear in the shrill tone they have come to know and love. The last chick that cut my hair was probably 19 or 20 and called me "darl" or "sweetie". Ahem, I am at least 5 years older than you sweetie. It's like me calling a 40 year old woman "sweety" or "love".
So anyway, my new hairdresser is fucking fantastic... I've been to her maybe four times and have been impressed each and everytime. She's so precise with how she cuts and doesn't make your ears bleed with annoying banter. I walk out feeling I got my $110 worth and then some... and as my mum would say "she's a joy and a blessing".

Off the topic...I've recently let my man know I've got a blog and he smiled and said, "You'll have fun with that." So maybe I'll start posting pictures and stuff. I don't know, but out of most of the blogs I read the ones that have people's pictures on them and are not anonymous are the more interesting ones. But then I'm worried that someone I know will read this... any opinions?

So anyway, watch this space...

Am I the only one who gets insanely emotional during Super Nanny? I don't know what comes over me! I just start weeping like a pre-menstral moron. I'll be watching with my friend who'll look over to me to say "Geez, those kids are horrible! - wait... are you... crying?"

I can't help it, I'll be watching those evil little brats, feeling helpless for the mum's and dads. I mean these kids obviously LOVE their mummies and daddies, but how heartbreaking! I cry most of all when Jojo finally gets through to them and the children suddenly go from being Chucky dolls to Kewpie dolls.

I'm generally not an emotional person, but some things just, I dunno, hit a spot and it's game over. I'm the same with that movie Crazy/Beautiful, not I don't relate in any way to any of the characters, but I still end up a blubbering mess by the end.

Anyway, glad to be home from work finally. I had different duties today on account of my inflamed larynx, and I was bored shitless.

Today's Tuesday, so we're having the usually "Super Tuesday Party People Night". Which is basically a chance to get some socialising in on the WORST day of the week. Why are they the worst day of the week? I hear you ask. Well, let me explain:

Saturday - the best day of the week and it goes without saying why. Sundays are ok, but it's still in the back of you mind that you have to go to work the next day. Mondays, I find, go pretty quickly. I'm usually still relaxed from the weekend so not much bothers me. Tuesdays come along and it's only then that you realise that you still have today and THREE MORE DAYS to go!. Wednesday is what the office geeks call the "hump day", not much longer to go. Thursdays do tend to drag a bit, but you know there's light at the end of that work week tunnel. Fridays = happy hour at the bar across from where I work and so the cycle begins again...

Am I the only Tuesday hater? Does that make me a dayist? Yeah, well don't get me started on the months... oooh July, you really get me angry...

I've got laryngitis. Yep, the sexy voice changing variety. So, here I am at home in bed watching Oprah staring Ricky Martin acting like a freakin' cartoon character.

Needing a medical certificate for taking a day off work, I walked down to the medical centre where you put your name down and get the first available doctor. It's usually at least a 15 minute wait, so I saddled up with a Who Weekly magazine from 2003, trying to ignore the fact that 100 other people, 100 much sicker, contagious people had picked up this same magazine. Imagine my surprise when my name was called 60 seconds into an article on Johnny Depp. So this doctor, a lovely, but stern lady with a thick Eastern European accent tells me I have laryngitis and tells me to not talk for the rest of the day. So I say, "Ok", and she says, "no, really don't talk."
I'm thinking why is she repeating herself? I get it! I say "Ok, I won't."
Then she says "No! Just nod! Don't speak!"
I had to seriously hold my laughter until I got outside.

Good news is I didn't have to go to work today, bad news is I'll be there tomorrow and GREAT news is I sound incredibly sexy when I sing...

I've spent the whole weekend on my couch, laptop at arm's reach, lemonade on ice, throat lozenges in my pocket and the girly movies I don't normally get to see on a continuous loop. I've done Tad Hamilton, Ella Enchanted, Dirty Dancing Havana Nights and I'm about to put Garden State on...

My Original Plan while my man was bucking it up at a buck's weekend (since when did they stop being buck's nights and start being buck's weekends?) was to partake in a little heavy drinking, some killer moves on the dance floor, a bit of harmless flirting with all of the departing american college boys and a vegetarian pide with chicken on the way home...

debauchery
n : a wild gathering involving excessive drinking and promiscuity

There was nothing even remotely debaucherous about my weekend.

I left work early on Friday, went straight to the doctor who took one look at my throat and said "virus - nothing we can do". "Humph. nothing?". "Nothing". So Friday night was spent sleeping. Saturday morning I woke up in agony thinking "nothing? we can do nothing?", popped some pills, made some tea and went back to bed for the rest of the day. Half of Saturday night saw me fielding calls from people demanding I stop being a pussy and come out and the other half was spent creating this lovely blog. Which half was better spent? you tell me. Sunday I woke to my mobile phone ringing, my mother telling me they weren't coming up to visit today... sweeeet, another day on the couch.

And as much as I was looking forward to my weekend of partying and acting single, I had a pretty damn good weekend (apart from the throat thing). It's good to be alone, I really relish my own company sometimes (as long as I'm not lonely - there's a difference).

I just thought I'd embrace the narcissist in me and tell anyone who's reading a little bit about my self.
10 Things:

1. I'm 5'11 - most of my life I've had trouble finding guys who could comfortably stand next to me in my heels (imagine Tom and Nicole) Luckily I've got me a tall one now, a basketballer no less.
2. I only have one close girl friend. I tend to get on with guys and I know that a lot of girls make this claim - but I think girls are bitchy, I know I can be. I'd rather drink a pint with the boys than a chardonnay with the girls. I'd rather play volley ball on the beach than lay down and bake in the sun. I'd rather talk about sex than makeup. I'd rather stand up to pee... no that's not true, but you get my point? I'm a girly girl who likes to be a tom boy... let's leave it at that.
3. I'm obsessed with quotes and song lyrics - oh, you'll see if you stick around.
4. I grew up in a very small coastal town but I went to school in the bigger town half an hour away. I wasn't popular, I wasn't unpopular. I actually spent most of my high-school years feeling invisible, which is the way I liked it. As soon as I got to college though, it changed big time. I suddenly had sooo many friends, sooo many parties and I.LOVED.IT. I've mellowed a bit since then, I'm not such an attention whore but I still love walking into our local pub and knowing at least 50% of the clientele.
5. My biggest obsession is strawberry lipbalm from The BodyShop. Now I'm taking a chance with that one, I want to keep this blog anon, but anyone that knows me, knows my obsession.
6. I flirt with my boyfriend's friends. I've only just realised that I do it, but I do and there you have it.
7. I have a great guy, stable, cute, smart, perfect... but I think I want more than that. Travel plays a huge part in my future, but he's not so keen on the idea and even though I don't want to have to choose, I think I know what I'd do.
8. I've only just starting reading other people's blogs in the last 2 months and have become a huge fan of some of them. I'm a voyeur I guess. I guess it could be compared to my interest in reality TV. I like to see how other people live and sometimes by measuring my life against theirs, I realise that my life ain't so bad.
9. I think my boobs are great.
10. I have had more that one great love in my life - I believe that you get more than one soul mate, it's just all about choices.

So there you have it...

I was thinking today about how weird my taste in men is...
I was watching that Tad Hamilton movie thinking "I totally would choose the geeky, skinny guy over the buff, sexy one." I think this disturbed me more because I knew that the other one was sexier, I just prefer them to be small and funny. I think I've always been that way... of course I had my share of crushes on the sporty/built/buff types of guys, and I've even dated a few of them... but every single one of my serious relationships has been with a nerd.
Take my current nerd, he's a high school computer teacher and when I first started going out with him 2 1/2 years ago, he was a skinny, pale thing straight out of uni... he's kind of cool now and he's filled out quite well... but, I'm ashamed to say don't dig him as much as I used to!
I'm a fairly normal girl, not stunning, but not ugly by any means. I know that I get hit on by the good looking guys all the time when I go out, and trust me, it's flattering. But nothing is more flattering when a nerd guy tries to have a bumbling conversation with you, and it makes me smile big when a nerd guys asks you if you'd like a drink and when you say yes, he goes to walk away and runs straight into a table.
Hmmm, maybe that's just it. I know I can have an adverse reaction on some guys and it's generally the nerdy ones. Maybe that's why I prefer them?