The Menstrual Monster

So I've been down lately. 10 points and a choccie if you noticed it. Work has sucked arse lately. I think I've said that recently. I've been hammered for crap that seems insignificant lately. And when I make one decent mistake its all been blown out of proportion and been taken to the top. Past the supervisor, past the director, and to the directors boss. For one standard mistake. Neither of my superiors are privvy to the decision to take it that far.

On top of all that crap I was isolated because Mr BM doesn't like the forked tongue, and was playing the lower staff off against each other. I stayed head down and did my work, but eventually she came to the conculsion that I wasn't doing my share of the menial work. Even though it is at least a two person task, and four out of five days a week there were a choice of three of us (myself included) doing it. And went straight to the directors boss with that one too.

Last week I was working in another persons area. This person is one of the people who has contributed to the feeling of being isolated. And some of the oversights I have seen in there... JEEBUS. If I went through shit she'd be arse raped over it. So I fixed her ovesights, no problems.

But I spoke to the good supervisor too. He is aware of whats been going on. Its been really hard dealing with all of the double standards that this place has thrown at me. He was encouraging though. Everyone is aware of whats been going on, and everybody feels really bad about it. The girl that I went to him about with the problem is 'feeling protective' of me. Throughout this I was crying. Gorgeous has a gift of offering advice that seems especially poignant, no matter what is going on in my life, and expecially when I don't ask for it.

So the combination of the crying and the conversation is making me feel better.

Hope and Tears

Tears are like hope
slowly dripped on my pillow
They spread
dark, wet and well defined
And slowly they stop growing
and fade away
Soon there is no trace
no memory
of hope or of tears
only overwhelming numbness

Hope turns to tears.
it all fades eventually

I have learnt

not to remove my contacts straight after brushing my teeth.

Minty freshness might make teeth white, but it sure as hell makes eyes red!

Times I want to strangle my cats.

They are few and far between. But I have to say... cats and xmas trees do NOT mix. I've had the bastards climbing the tree, knocking of decorations and dragging or chasing them around for HOURS. They've thought it great fun. I have not.

All I had planned today was to go to work in the AM, come home, and wash my sheets. Maybe prep my vegies for tomorrow. No biggie. I'd done most of the cleaning yesterday arvo in between drinking and blogging. I get home, unwind, pop a pimple or two, the usual.

And then I find it. Something shiny and curved on my floor. I pick it up, turn it over and my heart quickly leaps to the back of my mouth, and just as fast plummets down past my stomach. Its a decorated and personalised tree ornament that a workmate gave my roomie. And it was gorgeous. Until the cats took it for a test drive.

I grab my bag and phone and hit the door. Still wearing the clothes I wore to work - jeans from three days ago, that have food spilt on them, a nice top but its got a darker stain on the stomch, and the bra that doesn't do anything. Yep. It was washing day.

Living so close to Westfield I can walk there. They have a little stand where they make these ornaments. But when I get there I can't find the stand. I ask the information desk. Apparently they ran out of baubles only yesterday and have packed up and moved on. But they do have another stall at Castle Hill. Its only one bus ride there.

I miss the bus by about 2 minutes. I missed the HOURLY bus by about 2 mintues. I have nothing better to do but wait for the next one. Halfway through the wait another bus pulls up. Final destination - Castle Hill Shops. But its going to take at least 50 minutes. Its still better than waiting. I'm not sure if it was the roughness of the bus ride or the freezing status of the air con that had my teeth rattling on the journey. And of course by this stage the pieces of the ornament have magically turned to shards. The damn thing is sooo fragile.

Get to the shops, and find myself an information desk. Holding the shards in my hand I babble some incoherant story at the lady on the other side of the desk. She doesn't wait for me to get my story out. Which is kinda a goosd idea, because it would've taken forever. She points me in the correct direction and gives me the most obvious landmark - its next to santa.

I find the stall with no problems. While waiting to be served one of the friends of the people working there spies my ever increasing number of small shiny pieces, and comments that it doesn't look to healthy. I show them the shards that were once my roomies gift. They immediately tell me (without me having to display the pattern), that they don't have any snowmen in stock, and definitely none in pink. But they tell me to look at the others and see if I can't find something suitable for her. I do. And I purchase a pink bauble with a beautiful angel, and get her name written on it. All this hassle for a stupid but adorable $11 ornament!

And I'm guilt tripping so bad by this stage, and I'm not sure if she'll like this one as much, that I buy her another. The next one is a blue ornament with a fishing snowman. You know, just in case she doesn't like the first one. And she still has a pink ornament, and an ornament with a snowman.

Breathe a huge sigh of relief. And happily go to catch the bus back. Only I don't know where the direct bus leaves from. Back to the information desk for directions. It seems easy enough to find.

Waiting at the traffic lights to cross the road, and it starts to rain. Big drops, but not alot of them. I shake my head. What else can go wrong? Then it starts rainging harder. I actually laugh. I like the rain. And right now I'm so stressed if I don't laugh I'm going to cry. The lights cahnge just as it begins to flood from above. It was pissing down so hard I actually sought shelter, Waiting for the rain to ease. I finally bolt across the road and locate the bus stop. To find I've missed the bus by mere minutes. I've missed the HOURLY bus by mere minutes. Again.

I decide to explore the mall nearby. I'm soaked to the skin. And I'm covered in what was once a dirty roadside puddle. There is a clothes shop in the mall. I decide to buy some clothes and wear them straight from the shop. But I can't find anything that fits, or looks good, or doesn't look slutty. So I go without, and drag my tired, wet butt back to the bus stop. Where I caught a bus that had the air con set to about 11 C. Freaking bloody cold bus ride, even if I wasn't wet.

And thats the story of yesterday. My housemate and I both think its funny. And i decide not to put the new ornaments on the tree.

Merry Christmas? I say GET FUCKED

I truly hate Xmas. Anybody who read my blog last year will remember something similar being posted.

I have spent the last three Xmases by myself. I find it quite liberating. For the following reasons

• I get to do what I want, when I want. No pressure to serve lunch at a certain time, no need to prep or serve something that no-one wants, or everybody wants. No food gets wasted.
• I don't have to drive anywhere. My sister is doing breakfast with one parent, lunch with mums ex boyfirends family, and dinner with the other parental.
• I can drink as much or as little as I want. I'm not restricted by the 'need' to drive from place to place. If a dunk makes a fool of herself, and no-one is there to see, does it happen?
• No people = no fighting
• I get to open my presents when I want to. How fun is faking you love a truly awful gift in front of an expectant relative? If I get something truly awful, I just don't have to answer the phone later.

However, the lead up to Xmas is a completely different story. Absolutely everybody who finds out how I spend my day pities me. And it shows. 'Oh poor phishez, she's got no-one to spend Xmas with.' I have a particularly strong disdain for being pitied. And then I have to justify the way I spend my day. Like I could spend it any other way.

This year has been no different. Everybody being all clicky and wanting to be around other people. I try to avoid crowds where possible at the best of times. But at Xmas... its all so fake. People who normally fight like stray tomcats are suddenly best of buddies. I particularly come across as being cold then. Because I am. I want people to like me for me. Not because some guy how many hundreds of years ago decided to take some pagan festival and celebrate the birth of some undead guy however many of hundereds of years before that. I hate going shopping. I hate carols, and crowds, and the fat man. Seriously, why the fuck do we put a mythical fat man on a symbol of life? Expecially when this man has sold his soul to the corporation?

So I get stand-offish. And I get lonely. I can't talk to people because I have trust issues. Even if they've been my best bud through the year, as soon as xmas comes around, I don't know if they're liking me for me, or if they're liking me for the season.

And right now I'm angry beyond words because my family sucks. They SUCK. Come xmas morning, day, night and until next Wednesday at the very (VERY) earliest, I will have nothing from them. Yep. Thats right. The only people show give enough of a fuck about me to show it are my housemate and one workmate who's part of the reason I'm leaving.

I know its the thought that counts, but when you're by yourself on a day like that the physical lack of a thought is like a knife to the ribs.

An excerpt from my phone

To: Kez

If I had to blog right now it would go something like this...

'He came in today. We worked, we flirted, and we ate cheesecake. I'm a wuss. I didn't ask him out.














But I did give him my number'


HUZZAH!

Today

Do you know that sinking feeling you get when you wonder if you forgot to put deoderant on this morning?





I do.





It was quickly followed up by an amazing shrug feeling as I realised I hadn't, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

The promise of youth

When I was in high school I had so much promise. I was going places. I was going to be famous, and make tons of cash, and help people, but work with animals at the same time. They weren't idle dreams. Everybody knew and recognised it. I stood out from the crowd. And because it was recognised it became a burning ambition. I was full of the promise of youth. I was its embodiment.

So I went to university. I was the one that everyone would love to hate. I rarely went to class and still got top marks. The only time I was ever really really into a subject I topped the class. #1. Thats what happened when I tried. And when I didn't I was still in the top 15%. And the people there saw the same. When I got a job, I was talking to the cleaner and she said 'We'll be seeing your name in lights before long'. But somehow that all got lost.

Unfortunately my degree was offered to get people to study. To take their money and teach them. I hold a science degree. And applied science degree. Its the 'arts' of science. Just after I graduated I was unemployable. I was 'overqualified' to do what I wanted. Hence to do what I wanted I had to get out into the workforce. I just needed a foot in the door job. And thats what I got. A foot in the door, dead end job. There is no money working with animals. You do it for the love of it. I've always known it.

I heard the other day that if you haven't studied in five years all you've learnt is useless. I've wasted all the potential that I ever had. I'll never get to taste fulfilled promise.

I really don't get some things. The way life turns out. How it is affected by people who know nothing but numbers. My entire lifes path is completely strewn from what I wanted, just to fill numbers in a useless course. And to get what I want, I have to go back to when I was 18. Give up my degree. Give up all the experience I've so painfully earnt. It doesn't mean anything. But still keep the debts. Keep the memories. They don't mean anything either way.

Its only 5 years. Guess that doesn't mean much either.

"This girl tries her best everyday,
But it's all gone to waste
'cause there's no one around,
This girl she can draw she can paint,
Likes to dance she can skate,
Now she don't make a sound"

What does one do with mancandy?

So the guy at work is an UBER hottie! We were working together today. And as usual conversation is very limited to work. NOT. Public transport, Christmas plans and new years etc. I did quiz him though, to find out if he had 'anything better' to be doing, rather than spending it with his family. And he said no. Nothing better to do. Which I interpret to be 'no girlfriend I'd rather be spending the day with'.

I have next Monday off. I was going to make cheesecake to bring in as a Christmas gift to everybody on Tuesday. However, now methinks I shall bring it in on Wednesday instead. Certain hot occasional-workmates will be down just before morning tea on Wednesday. And it gives me a reason to invite him to join us for it. It also gives me a reason to show off my cooking skills (this cheescake is DIVINE) and thus garner a compliment. It also gives me a longer time to flirt with the guy, over a very non-work discussion.

And maybe, just maybe, ask him out.

I'm a wuss though.

A and her identity

Recently one of my workmates (A) had her wallet stolen. She was shopping at Ikea and stopped to get lunch. Putting her tray down at the table, next to her two young children she noticed she had no cutlery. She turned her back for literally one and a half minutes to get it.

It wasn't until they left the dining area that she realised she didn't have her wallet. Immediately she cancelled all of her cards. But it was too late. They had used her credit card to buy $75 worth of petrol. When she quizzed the guy at the service station he defended himself with 'We can't check every signature'. Which is total bullcrap. It takes two seconds to check a signature. Another workmate has a husband that manages a servo. And he has confimred it. All signatures MUST be checked. I know that from working in the vet clinic. The servo is liable for that transaction on her card. But it's going to be a bitch getting it back.

Not content to take the $400 in her wallet and the free use of the credit card, the fuckers have also taken her woolworths ezi bank card (which is a division of, but not worked through, the commonwealth bank), to the commonwealth bank an Enmore THREE times. TWICE they overdrew past the daily limit on the card. On the CANCELLED card. A has taken that same card to the commonwealth bank previously and they refused to deal with her.

The bank were going to run her around with getting her money back too. She got onto one of the major radio stations (2GB) in Australia and told them her story. It was to be their last show before their summer break. And they were going to put her on air at 10:30 in the morning. Unfortunately they ran out of time. But they really felt for her. So they did the ring around for her. And about 20 minutes after she was told she wouldn't be on air, she got a call from the bank. They will refund her money in full. It will be in her account immediately. And the radio station called her back to make sure the bank had done what they said they would.

Not only that, but they have tried to open new accounts in her name. And have tried to redirect her mail. Now A is absolutely paranoid. They have enough identification to be able to apply for credit cards, or loans. They have her library cards, and video rental cards. And photos of her kids. They know where she lives. Who knows how far it will go.

The police have been no help. They have continued to tell her to report anything new to them. But it has been up to her to chase the video surveilance from Ikea and the service station. The bank has none. And as of Friday afternoon, they had not been viewed. This leads us to believe that they might be investigating these guys already on a larger scale. Or, more likely, that she has fallen through the cracks of apathy.

I told her about my recent experiences with the police. How he should have been charged with assault, but they only decided that over a week later. After he had a copy of the AVO in his hands and knew what they would bring up against him. So he changed his story and denied the rest.

Life sucks sometimes. People are so cruel to others. What would posess someone to rummage through someone elses bag while her two young children were sitting there? And fine, they took the money, but to take her identity too... They can do so much damage to her and not even care.

Sick Sheets

We had a party last night. It was fucking awesome. I still have to clean up :(. There is crap everywhere. And soo much food. Seems we pulled a jebus here. We started with three bags of chips, 2 packs of share chocolate, 7 bottles of mixer drinks, two packets of lollies, dip, cheese and cabanossi. Now we have 15 bags and three bowls of chips, 6 bags of lollies, about 5 packs worth of share chocolates, and 16 bottles of drink, 9 assorted premixed drinks, 2 packets of timtams, 18 bread rolls, and a roast chook. And two bowls of cheese. One of which is still sitting outside on the balcony.

We wont need to cater the next party. Except for the chocolates. I’ll make sure nobody gets food poisoning and take them out of the equation. Purely selfless I swear.

It was a good night all up. Except for one very awkward moment where some random guy my housemate invited went to help himself to my alcohol. I thought I handled it very well. I told him politely but firmly that we hadn’t provided alcohol for everybody, but if he wanted something to drink there was plenty of non alcoholic beverages in the back fridge. He just looked at me, still holding the bottle. He made NO attempt to even put it down. Fucker even questioned me about it. I repeated previous statement. If it had been a beer or something I probably wouldn’t have bothered. But FFS, we had catered this party, with dip. THERE WAS DIP PEOPLES. Letting some random I’d never met help himself to my southern comfort was just a bit much.

One of the highlights was sitting out on my hammock chatting with my new gay best friend (Don’t worry Kez, there’s room for at least two of you in my heart). He’s a bit shy about anal. So, being the drunken pervert that I am, I gave him tips, and even offered to buy him a vibrator online to make it easier for him. Share the depravity. I should get that tattooed on my butt.

Are any of my readers familiar with the concept of ‘sick sheets’? I know Jana is. We get this from my mother. When I’ve been sick, and I’m starting to recover, my sheets feel wrong and dirty to me. It doesn’t matter if I’ve washed them that day, and gotten really sick that night. I HAVE to have clean sheets on my bed when I’m starting to get better. If I’m sick for three days, I’ll wait til recovery to wash them. Last night I was really bad. I had had a lot to drink, but I’ve had more in the past, and not been that bad. I’m starting to wonder if someone put something in my drink. I crashed about 2 or 3. And spent an hour in bed shivering. I had two blankets on, and I was hot, but I was still shivering enough for it to be painful. And I got up at 4 to make an unexpected stagger to the toilet. I grabbed me a bucket on the way back to bed. I have never felt so old in my life. I ached all over. Every inch of skin, my bones and muscles. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to blink. I’m not exaggerating. If it feels like this when I get old, I don’t want to get old. I think Peter Pan was onto something. I was quite with it in my brain, but my body felt so battered. Of course since it was a house party, I had left my drink unattended all night.

The only reason I’m moving now is because I took two codeine at 8 or 9 this morning.

So now, on top of cleaning the house, I have to wash my sheets. As a bonus though – is there anything a sexy as doing your shaving/waxing just before you get into a bed with clean sheets, and sleeping nekkid? Its just a shame that my pyjamas need to be washed this arvo too ;P

Coming up – a firsthand case of identity theft, and my impulse buys.

Apathy

Apathy is a void
Mucis cannot fill
And love mocks me
And pushes me further away.
Its too far to reach out.
I am unreachable
In the black void of apathy.

Workism

Work has sucked something shocking lately. We have been without a leader for a whole year, next Saturday. And its showing in our group. Not normally the most cohesive bunch, but our previous supervisor (we have two, they swap areas each December) has been playing us against each other. Not sure why, but everybody is kind of at everybody elses throats. Which is why I'm leaving.

But the shit has really hit the fan. My current supervisor, the one who actually gives a damn, has just made the swap back to my area. And he doesn't want to pick up the mess and unravel the tensions there. I can't really say I blame him.

As a result, he's decided to 'step down'. We're both a bit excited. He was concerned that he would not have a job to step into. But seeing as I'm looking to move on its eased up a bit for him.

I wish him the best of luck. And regret the circumstances that led to this decision. Ultimately it is the best thing for him. And that is what matters.

Rachel

This is not an easy blog for me to write. I'm not really sure where to start on this.

It has occured to me, very recently, that one of my friends is extremely selfish. And I'm not at all comfortable with it. I'm actually feeling a little sour about it**. And need to get it out of my head so that it doesn't destroy my brain. I'm not even sure if I can get it out the way I want to.

I've known Rachel for about three years now. We had a mutual semi-close friend at uni. We met during her first and my second year. We were the same age. And we knew each other reasonably well. During the early part of my third year there were a handful of students left over one of the holiday breaks. And that was when we really got to know each other. One night we sat up talking til about 3 or 4 in the morning, about life, getting to know each other. And since then she was my escape when my hall got to be too much.

When I graduated I'd run favours for her off campus. I'd help her look after her contraband kitty, keeping it overnight and running it to the vets when need be. It worked out well because she was quite a compatible playmate for my cat.

Just after I moved to Sydney she was coming down for work experience. And she drove my car down with my cat, rat and computer. She didn't stay at my place (whole 'nother story), so the month where she was here I got to see her once. Then that October contraband kitty became mine. And was flown back down to Sydney with me.

This year she came down and stayed a few days in July. And I filled her in on what had happened just prior to her coming down.

And she came down again just last week. We'd been planning it for a while. But she told me a week before when she was coming. So I had a week, when we were understaffed, and others were already away, to try to get time off. My supervisor was great about it, but only managed to get me two days off, plus a weekend I wasn't working and an ADO. 5 days in total. I wanted 5 of leave. But I wasn't complaining. Honestly I was surprised I got any time off, considering the notice I gave them.

Picked Rach up at the airport on the Thursday night (I seriously hate airport traffic). And she came back to my place. Where she stayed for 6 nights, and paid $50 for food (and petrol, for three return trips to the city and two to the airport). It occured to me later that she probably wouldn't have even thought about that if I hadn't asked.

And from then on, Rach did what she wanted, and if I was there then I was there. We were in the city Friday, with my bestie from high school. And she was really, really narky because Ali was giving the wrong landmarks for where her hotel was. And it got to me that she thought Ali was some kind of idiot. A lower form of idiot. A complete imbecile. And I think it went bad from there. I haven't seen Ali in ages. We were absolutely inseperable in high school. And Ali is absolutely not an idiot. At 23 she has been through uni, and owns her own business. So Rach's attitude absolutely grated my nerves. We went to the markets, and Rach kept wandering off to this stall, and that stall, and Ali and I wandered along together, chatting and examining stuff.

And occasionally Rach would meet up with us, before disappearing again.

The next day we went shopping at Parramatta. I wanted to pick up a layby and some vegies. Rach wandered into this store, and that store, and I bought some tops somewhere else. When I came out Rach was in a different store, and then she decided she was going somewhere else. Since the store I wanted to go to was at the other end of Westfield, it was going to take ages and I told her I was going to pick up my layby, and I'd meet her at Supre (where she was) or 1626 (where I was going). Come out and wander back to Supre, keeping an eye out for Rach. She's not on the way there, and not in the store. Wander back. No Rach. Back to Supre, and back to 1626. Still no Rach. Spend half an hour at the calendar stall outside my store. She doesn't show. So I wander back, looking in EVERY store on the way. And back to 1626, doing the same thing on the other side. At this point I'm shitty for sure. So I decide to do my vegie shopping and just go home. I don't have my phone on me so I'll call her when I get home.

On my way out of the shopping centre she's waiting and apparently has been doing the same as me for the last hour or so. We walk back to the apartment, laughing about it, but its tense between us. That night, Robyn (who has been drinking) picked up on it. I bought it up on the drunken stumble home, and mentioned how irritating it was. Surprisingly that partially diffused the situation. But not enough.

Sunday we spent together. It was fun. Nice and relaxed. But not quite at the same time. Rach had jarred me somehow. And it wasn't going away. There was a cute guy that we had to deal with at the apple store. Sorry, that *she* had to deal with. And even though Rach was leaving the counrty in two and a bit weeks, she was still competing for this guy. I'm an adult. I know that anything with this guy... not going to happen. But its less llikely for her. And still she competed. Now, in the past, I would have never stood a chance against someone like Rach. But I have lost alot of weight recently. And my curves, though sizeable, are damn HAWT in the right clothes. And I was wearing the right clothes. I believe, if I had chosen, he would have been eating out of my hand, and not stopping there.

We were discussing him later (yes, he was that hot). And she totally dismissed me as competition. With most of my girlfriends its the same. The guys go for them first, and then, when it comes to converstation, they go for me. In real life I am like I blog. But fat. And the guys still love it. Rach and I have a very similar personalities. But she is more showy and superficial than I. And it shows, through her actions, and her jewellery, and her conversation. Yes, in that order.

Naturally it bugged me that she hadn't realised I've changed. I hate it, but I have. i'm used to being underestimated. I encourage it in certain circumstances. But not in my friends. Life is just not as sweet as it was when I first knew her. She knows what I've been through.

After dinner that night I told her how I'd been dwelling on stuff. Negative stuff. Occasionally the assault by my ex housemate in June. But mostly, at the moment, the miscarrage. And how I have no one to talk to about it. Even now it hurts too much to cry. She knows about all of this stuff. Being one of my closest friends she would have to. But she had been at my place for 4 days, together for most of this time. And she had yet to ask me how my life was going. I knew about all of her stressors. Grades, and graduation, and getting a job, and what she was going to get her sister for Christmas. It was all we'd talked about.

But for me to talk about what I wanted, what was getting to me, I had to bring it up. In a public place. Down at Darling harbour, after dinner, over coffee. And I nearly burst into tears. I hate crying. And crying in public... I haven't done since year eight when I told one of my mates I was sexually abused by my cousin and she turned around and told the year levels biggest gossip. (Thats a whole nother story again, but my mum found out from the mother of someone in my year level). Needless to say I'm not doing too good, and I have no one to talk to about it. And it took four days for it to be bought up in conversation with (but not by) someone who knows me reasonably well.

I bought her a chirstmas present. It was a cheap pen and keyring set. And I got it engraved.
"Dear Rach
Remeber Us
Love Steph
UQG 2003-2006"

And she gave me a hug. She hadn't got me anything. I can live with that. It would have been nice to have the thought there but...

Anyway. She forgot it. And its still sitting here. She flies out in a week and I can't afford to post it until Thursday. The engraving cost me over $25. The only thing she can offer - post it to someone who's flying over in January.

And its then that it occurs to me. Rachel is so self centred. Beyond confident. I'm confident. But I don't go that far. She wants everything to be about her. She didn't give a damn that something was eating me from the inside out. Anybody who knows me, and gives a damn, would have been able to spot that a mile away. She didn't think to get me anything for Christmas. Honestly, it doesn't bug me that much, except I put alot of thought into that gift. And its like it doesn't matter to her. There was no show that it meant anything to her. I can't help but feel like I've wasted my time cultivating a friendship that was all one sided. I have a very giving nature and she exploited that. In the beginning it was a mutual firendsip. I'm not sure where it went astray. But its not a good feeling.

** Earlier I blogged about not being comfortable blogging about my family. This is a prime example of why I feel this way. Though this is not aimed at my family, the principle is the same. Its nothing major. But it is. Its at times like this I'm using my blog as a journal, not as a communication medium.

What december means to me

Its December. And that means one thing to me.

Neopets.

Yes peoples. For one month of the year I am a dedicated neopian. You just need to give me free shit for me to get there.

Now, before anybody says anything, I was into neopets when it was just a few months old. WAAAY before it hit cult status. And I LOVED it. Yep. I admit it. And I managed to get all of my high school mates addicted to it. Before school blocked the website because it was 'uneducational'. Yeah right. All that left for me to do during my 'study breaks' was have cybersex. Hello!! Catholic here! Like I needed any more 'education' on that! But thats a whole 'nother story...

And it was the same at uni. Got all of my mates addicted. We'd head up to the library every other night and play games and surf. A group of about 8 of us. Laughing and carrying on and trading shit. HEAPS of fun. But they blocked that too.

We were right into it. Making money by gambling, buying stuff cheap and selling it for a nice profit. We knew when the shops would restock and wait for it. We knew which plushies in which colour were the most valuable. And we walked the fine line between haggling the price down and getting what we want, or having someone just buy it out from under us.

There were different pets, different shapes and sizes. And believe it or not, different personalities. We'd make homes for them (and never decorate the bastards), buy them petpets, give them makeovers, and play with them. We'd teach them and train them. Just because we could. And we'd collect items to display in our shops. Just because we could.

One of the reasons we all played (or so we said) was that we weren't allowed to keep pets whilst living on campus. So these were a substitute.

We were aged between 18 and 20.

Nowdays I don't do any of that. I don't have the time. And I have real pets. But come December, its all changed. I have a years worth of new pets to get to know, new styles to paint my babies. And new petpets (and now I think there are petpetpets too, but I find them all too confusing). And I hit the games hard to enhance my 1 million neopoints. I collect interest and sell shit that has increased in value over the year. Its just like old times.