Whoever said that money can't buy happiness has clearly not been buying the right things! I present to you my favourite purchase of the post christmas sales -
And it was pretty cheap too. I heart sales. I didn't really buy much there. I mostly splurged on Christmas gift packs (50 to 70% off) and got cooking sauces/ mustards etc. I did get some chocolate. But it was the freddo frog stocking type, so not really much in that. But I'm still happy with my shiny bits.
***
I go a hell of a surprise this morning when I woke up. I meandered out to the kitchen to get brekkie and what do I see sitting on the bench looking at me? Just the biggest fucking garden skink I've ever seen in my life! How he managed to not be eaten by the cats and end up half masticated in my bed is a mystery to me. Wikipedia says they grow to a maximum of 14 cm, rarely exceeding 9. Well, I tell you this bastard was about 20! Of course wikipedia also called them skinkie's, so I don't have a lot of faith in that article.
He was quite calm for a skink. Though, as usual, quite hard to catch. I chased him under the microwave, under the dishes, back under the microwave, around the cereal, and back under the microwave. Before finally catching him. And, like most skinks, once he was on my wrist, he stayed there. He did try to pop over the edge of the bench, but stopped when he realised it had anoverhang and he couldn't just run down it. Boots was eating her brekkie and watching me with mild interest just happened to see it. And she froze. Mummy was playing with a self propelled toy! And she wanted.
The skink, defying death from the one place he cannot be touched.
So I go thim outside in my potted herbs. He was kinda cute and I hope he sticks around.
It had been a while coming. Several games of pool on our lunch breaks. Some idle flirting. Nothing really out there. I knew he liked what he saw, regardless of if I played in a low cut dress or a tee. Although he did appreciate watching me lean over the table and handle the pool cue in the dress.
To me he was another guy at work. Friendly, helpful. But one day in the lunch area he was wearing this tight muscle shirt. Very much not dress code. Normally he wore polo shirts. But that day... the day that started it, he looked very different. Nonchalantly sexy. It showed him off quite well. Tight muscles, one tattoo on his arm, one half hidden across the base of his neck. It appeared to be writing of some sort, and I was instantly intrigued as to what it said. I would have bet my panties that he had more too.
Like I said, sexy.
I pondered how to bed this guy. It would be relatively simple. A mention that I'd go there and he'd be putty in my hands. Except putty is soft. And he wouldn't be. Ahh yes, he'd be my bitch. Available when I wanted him. I wondered what he'd be like in bed. Would he be rough, or timid? I suspected he'd be quite considerate, but more for his ego than for his partner's satisfaction. And that suited me quite fine.
At work functions he orbited the area that I was in. Watching. Not really hanging out with me, but always around. A few times I did catch him looking. I was a touch creeped when the other guy he was talking to was watching me too. I had hoped that it would be that night. I'd shaved and gotten ready for it. But sadly, he wasn't walking in straight lines by the end of the night. Looking back I should have taken him, but I left with my boss. And I didn't want him to leave with us. Stupid, stupid girl. Hindsight sucks. I decided to make that up to him. And to me. God knows I needed a good rough fuck.
A week later the emails began. Idle chit chat. A touch of flirtation. An offer for drinks after work one night. A few days to arrange for it to happen, for our shcedules to click. For my roomie to be out.
We'd selected a quiet pub in my suburb. I'd have two drinks. Then mention that I lived a block from here. Kiss him in the elevator and have his cock in my mouth by the time I hit the light switch at home. Great plan!
And the best laid plans always go astray.
He caught the train in, arrived half an hour before we were due to meet. I'd stepped out of the shower and was halfway through moisturising when he rang. I couldn't resist. A quick run of my fingers over my clit as I stood there, naked, talking to him on the phone. I was tempted to just tell him to come over, but he'd probably get lost. I had to head out to see him without doing my make up. I figured it wasn't a big deal. I'd probably sweat it off anyway.
I was surprised when I saw him. He was dressed quite nicely. Light blue dress shirt. It looked like silk, though I would have bet my bra it wasn't. Not on his wage. Then again, he had matched it with suit pants. I figured I'd find out soon enough.
The initial meeting was awkward. There was a moment where we hesistated. Do we shake hands or make out? I settled for a kiss on the cheek. Lingering there just long enough to be suggestive. He told me he hadn't had dinner yet. Could we change our plans and have something to eat instead? Near the train station was a strip of restaurants. I was in heels, so I was more than happy to go somewhere close.
Again, I was surprised when I suggested a casual noodle bar and he turned it down. He wanted something better. Something that served steak. Jeez. Steak? I never eat steak. Its too expensive and it makes for a long dinner. Maybe that's what he wanted. Gawd, I really didn't want this to turn into a date. Nerves began to jangle as he took my hand, twining fingers into mine, and led me a 20 minute walk to the restaurant he wanted.
Conversation flowed easily. It stalled in places, but wasn't really awkward. The weather was a good topic. He wasn't from around here, so he wasn't used to the heat and humidity. Of course, with the heat and the humidity came a lack of clothes, and he wasn't complaining.We quizzed each other about family, friends, locations, jobs, travel plans. God, why would he bother with a date? He doesn't have plans to stay and I'm not inclined to date.
We got to the restaurant and he managed to get us a quiet table, for the two of us. The lights were dimmed and the ambient noise was low. He sat opposite me and we leaned in to talk some more. He ordered steak. I had a salad, dressing on the side. Shaddup. I'm weight obsessed and he already knew it. He ordered drinks for us. 2 bourbons. Mine a diet. And some cheese bread for entree. God, he was going to make me eat it. Cheese and bread? Calories galore.
The bread arrived with our drinks, and I declined to touch it. I wasn't really that hungry. He pressed the issue, and I distracted him by stretching my legs out and pressing them up against his. My legs were silky smooth and the fabric of his pants felt quite pleasant. Automatically, I rubbed my leg up against him. His eyes widened and he leaned in even closer, almost touching me. All awkwardness gone. All pretense disappeared. He wanted to get laid just as badly as I did. He just hid it better.
His eyes narrowed, his voice dropped a little. Aside from that he continued as if I hadn't done anything. But was that a little pressure I felt against my leg? Was he pressing back without rubbing? I eased my leg away from his, and it followed. I reached for my drink, looking up at him as I took a sip, with a dirty smile on my face. He'd see that look later, but instead of a straw, it would be his cock in my mouth.
The waiter interrupted our little moment. He was a little embarrassed, placing our food on the table and departing as quickly as possible. Surprisingly, the addition of food did little to stop the chatter. It also did little to dull the tension between us. The looks became sharper as the night wore on. The jokes became wittier, the touching more full on. I ached to reach under the table and grab him. I ached to kiss him, nibble him, rip his shirt off, have him inside me. A warm breeze blew through the room, and suddenly all I could smell was him. I was sure I was wet. Anticipation was killing me.
We didn't finish our meal. Our eyes met as I placed a piece of... something in my mouth. I think it was cheese. He politely requested that I tell him when I was ready to go. I put my fork down and gave the most simple, but obvious reply.
'Now.'
He called for the check. Downed his drink. It had been refilled at some stage but I was too wrapped up in the tension to realise when. He put down a card and the waiter whisked it away before I could even get my wallet out to pay my share. He leaned over the table and asked in a Vin Diesel voice, 'How far away from here do you live?'
I consdered a brief moment before replying. He nodded once. The check was returned. He signed the slip and we walked out into the balmy night. A storm may have been rolling in. Or it could have been snowing. We were clueless. The only thing of consequence at that time was each other.
He raised his well muscled arm to hail a taxi, slipping the other one over my bare shoulders. The feel of his skin slipping over mine sent tingles down my spine. As the taxi slowed down he pulled me to him and gently kissed me. As our lips touched a shiver ran down my chest, igniting my nipples, coiling hot and raw in my stomach, and flooding down to my hips.
Christmas is tricky. Very tricky. There's the whole 'what do I get...?' and 'what if they don't get me anything?' Well, I managed to get my workmates something they always enjoy... FOOD! I made a cookies and cream cheesecake for them. It was absolutely delicious and shit easy to make. If you want the recipe email me and I'll send it. And I supplied a massive bowl of cherries for them too. Mostly because I buy a box of cherries each year at this time, but partially because I'm too stingy to buy them each something individually. Recession etc etc.
Well this cheesecake was so massive we each had a double helping, then we fed it to two other departments and then I took it upstairs and left it in the fridge with a 'help yourself' note attached. Seriously. Nommy.
So I'm left with one more group of people to give a gift to. And that's you guys. My very special and much loved readers. For you guys I have the perfect gift. Something that you always love. So stay tuned. I'm working hard on this one for you.
A lifetime ago, I used to listen to country music. Not a lifetime. Another person, another place away, in my not to distant past. I was so sure. Of everything. I knew who I was, what I wanted to do with my life. I knew that I could get the world if I worked hard enough. I knew that some day I'd be somebody. I'd count. I'd make a difference. Now I live in Sydney. I do make a difference. I do some serious help to the world. But if I didn't, someone else would take my place. I don't know if anyone notices I'm gone from my old job, even though I put my soul into it.
I knew what I wanted out of my love life. I wanted to be the world to someone. I wanted someone who would give up everything for me. Even though I'd never let them do it, I still wanted someone who would do it. I just didn't know how to attain the ideal. Now I don't have that ideal, and I still can't attain it. I want to love somebody, but I've been shattered by guys in the past, and pieces are missing. I don't know if I'm capable of it. I've never been in love, and I'm too jaded to believe that I can do it.
I didn't give a damn about what anyone thought of me. Ponder how much that has changed.
I used to make friends so easily. I'd just be there and they'd be drawn to me. I had all the time for all the people. I was out socialising every night. Now I'm home, stuck to facebook or one of my blogs. I miss that. Life was slower but more energetic. Now its hecticly fast, but kind of empty.
Now I'm not that girl anymore. I am someone different. More focused, more competetive, more retarded. I'm not as insecure as I was. I have grown. But tonight I wish I was still her. The girl from my past. When life was simple. Though that might have been because I didn't understand the rules.
For tonight. Just one night, I'm going back to that time. A storm is rolling in and I will log off the internet, and sit and watch it. For one night I shall be that girl.
I am so uncoordinated. Its amazing. Truly. I have a propensity to fall down at random moments. Usually in public and most of the time in the presence of hot guys. My klutziness in this past week has outweighed Steph.
Monday, cold as fuck, wore shorts to work. It was wet and rainy. I wore white.
Tuesday, walking to the train station, I slipped. I wobbled for half a moment, then gracefully (as gracefully as someone falling over can be) managed to slide down onto my knee. Cue bruise on my knee and sore toes.
Wednesday I wore thongs to the station. Running up the escalator the tip of my thong clipped the step, and I stacked it. If I hadn't been hanging onto the rail, I would have fallen onto my arse. As it was, I managed to grab the rail and swing there for a second. Cue one wrenched wrist and a lovely set of bruises on my ankles.
Thursday I didn't fall over. I did walk straight past a co worker in the street without even seeing her, but no physical injuries. I was busy congratulating myself as I was preparing for bed that I walked straight into the end of my bed. Cue epic bruise on my thigh.
Yesterday took the cake. I got to the train station and was fossicking through my bag for my wallet when I realised... I left it at home. Cue a 20 minute round trip home, in the rain, to collect said wallet.
But this retardedness is nothing compared to what I have seen on the sphere this week. Some botched abortion, right wing 'christian' is haunting some of my fave gay bloggers. I will not link this useless fuckstain. Nobody wants to read his regurgitated religious propaganda and underlying hate for gays and alcoholics. Hell, if you manage to track this useless arseclown down, and you read his profile, you'll see a litany of books, music and movies listed that have a big chunk of gay influence, sex and violence. As another blogger who comments on my mates blog pointed out, 'Nothing wrong with that, provided you are not preaching to others about right and wrong'. I'm going to begin a rant here. If you don't want to read it, skip down and comment on how retarded I am.
He has four or so biblical quotes that he drivels out, no matter how irrelevant they are. Clearly he's never actually read the bible himself. If he did he would have noticed that there are TWO stories of creation. In the first chapter of the whole, gigantic motherload of bullshit, you find an epic contrast of the same story. Yeah, right. The bible is a great story. Its fiction, not fact, and is not meant to be treated as such. The most important part of the book is the underlying message. One of love, forgiveness and tolerance. He seems to have missed that. Jesus healed lepers and hung out with prostitutes. He was friends with the worst of the worst in that society. What he could not change, he embraced. He still loved those who were sinners. What is wrong with this buttmonkey that he cannot do the same? Does he think he's better than Jesus? Has he forgotten the humility that he lived his life with?
I pointed out these to him on his blog. But funnily enough he has comment moderation on. I'm not surprised, anyone who spews as much hate as this guy around the place is due for some return fire. He leaves comment around various blogs gloating that people are going to hell for 'choosing' to be gay. Don't even get me started on the 'choice' thing. Its bad enough that he's doing the very un-Christian thing in rejoicing that someone is going to hell. The true Christians I know would be saddened by it. Though I had to laugh at the comment he left here. You know, two seconds before I deleted it.
NEWSFLASH wanker - I'M NOT GAY!!! I HAVE A VERY HEALTHY LOVE OF PENIS!!!
Tool. It just really bugs me that he feels free to go spew whatever vitriol he pleases, where he will. Without regard for people's feelings. And without giving them the same freedom to express themselves in return. He choses to only air the self righteous comments and those supporting his views on his blog. To me, this guy is the sort of person who turns me away from religion.
So the reaction to the haircut has been pretty much what's been seen here. Generally 'Wow,' *2 second pause* 'I like it!'
In the spirit of the new look, I decided it was high time I bought some new clothes. My old ones were hanging off me, except for my jeans, which didn't fit when I started the diet.
I dunno what it is, but I can see the fuggest clothes and make them look good. There have been several times when I've tried on clothes for the freak value, only to find out that they look fucking hot. My fave example of this was a pair of poo brown corduroy pants that looked like they'd been made out of carpet. Seriously, they were FUG! But when I tried them on, they were HAWT!
I've digressed.
So I shopped my size 16 arse off. New dress that's fug on the rack, but absolutely stunning on my rack. A few new shirts, new underwear, new socks, new gym clothes. I bought everything except pants. I even picked up a pair of shoes that go with absolutely everything.
I was stoked to be buying size 14 tops and dresses. Its a huge change for me. I've gone from a 16-18 to a 14-16. I didn't want to buy a whole lot cuz I'm broke, and
So when I got my few purchases home I looked at my overflowing cupboards and decided to clean them out.
Eight bags of clothes to throw out...
My cupboards are now looking a little desolate. Ahh well. Post Christmas sales are coming up...
When I told the hairdresser I wanted a really short pixie cut, she was really dubious. I've had short hair before and I knew I could pull it off. Damn, she got really enthusiastic when most of it was gone. I think she was more excited than me!
This time of year is quite funny. More ironic and strange than humourous. I usually spend Christmases alone. Which is no drama. I've done it for 5 years. I usually make a little deal of it, but it is just another day. Have a nice roast turkey lunch with veges, or, for the past few years, I've had turkey, ham and salad. Spend the morning opening presents, have a yummy lunch, and have pudding for dessert.
For the first time in 3 years I get a Christmas off. Which is quite strange.
Today is my Grandmothers birthday. Its 20 days to Christmas. Today is traditionally the day I put up the Christmas tree. If it doesn't go up by Nan's birthday, it doesn't go up at all. This year I got a little psyched about doing Christmas. But now I'm broke, I told my family I wouldn't be doing Christmas this year. I'd have to post everything to each individual, which is expensive and a pain int he arse. I got something for my mum. I had to post her a birthday present already. Silly old bag has already unwrapped it. Sometimes I wonder who's supposed to be the kid here. I also got something for my dad. I bought it off the net and they automatically post it.
I bought a gift for a mate too. She hasn't opened it, but its the kind of thing that is best opened prior to Christmas.
This Christmas I'm going to have turkey, ham and salad. Gotta stick to the diet. The only concessions I'm making is to have 2 mince pies, 2 little puddings, 2 little cakes and a pack of choc chip gingerbread in the week around. I still have to lose a heap of weight before New Year.
Its funny sometimes. Since I've been in Sydney, each New Year has been the direct opposite of how the previous year was. My first year here, I went out with my roomies. The following year, I was out of touch with pretty much all of them. That year I went out with my current roomie and some of her mates. Now I don't hang out with my roomie as much as I used to, and the last time I spoke to some of the guys before was prior to last New Year.
Last year I got ditched without notice. I refused to let that get to me, so I went to the city by myself, hung out, watched the crowds and fireworks. No real biggie. This year should have been better. This year by all rights I should be going out with a huge crowd, being the life of the party. This year I'll be doing the same as last year. I'll be out at Darling Harbour. One face amongst a million. Watching. Not interacting. In the middle of the crowd, but not a part of the crowd. I'll watch the fireworks, wander around a little, have a coffee, watch the next fireworks and the dissipating crowd. Then I'll catch a crowded train full of revellers and go home by myself.
Its kind of sad.
***UPDATE*** I do have offers of something to do Christmas Day. The truth is I prefer to spend it alone. I am working Christmas eve and boxing day, so travelling somewhere is out. Likewise, I'm working New Years Eve, so I've gotta be in Sydney for it. It just sucks spending New Years alone.
My life is a series of moments. Some of which are easily classified. Some of which are not. This is an easily classified one...
There was a grasshopper in my kitchen this morning. What he was doing there was an absolute mystery to me. I live 5 floors up. I spotted the bug before my kitties. Which is a good thing, because if the cats had seen it before me I can guarantee it would have shown up half masticated in my bed before I even had my coffee.
I decided to remove said hopper to a safer place. Namely, anywhere outside. So after my coffee (cuz I attempt nothing without it) I chased the critter around the dishes, through the sink, over the stove and finally into my left hand. I cupped my right hand over it to keep it concealed from the cats. And promptly realised that I had a choice of doors to let it out of. I could go through two locked doors and throw it off the balcony, or I could go through one door that required two hands to open, and take it down the elevator with me on the way to work and drop in the the front garden.
Humm.
I opted to throw it off the balcony, managed to free one hand and open both sliding doors. I threw the little bug off the balcony and watched him fly off to a safe haven, a tree about 30 metres away. I really had to go to work, but I decided to watch the bug for a few moments and enjoy the warm glow of having saved a creatures life.
Only to have it utterly shattered as a Currawong lazily flew up and had little bug for breakfast.
You were my first crush. We used to spit at each other at recess and I cut my hair one day flirting with you. I always thought you were hot. Still do, though I haven't seen you in years. I have a soft spot for you. Your best mate is a cunt.
Warm smiles forever,
Phish
Leigh,
You were my best mate and I liked you just as much as you liked me. I chickened out and set you up with your first girlfriend instead. You were still a great mate, and I'd do anything for you. But I haven't spoken to you in ages and I do miss you.
Call me sometime
Phish
Clint.
You were a mistake, but an important one at that. I wanted you, you wanted my best mate. I was drunk and horny, by your device. It was cold and you had a small penis. You could barely get it in. Just how every girl dreams of losing her virginity. NOT!
I set my standards by you these days. And every time I think of dropping them, I remember that night, and my resolve is strengthened to keep them so damned high.
BTW, you have a perpetual look on your face like you've just been hit across the back of the head with a frypan. Do something about it please.
Matt.
You were my counsellor during my parents divorce. I opened up, but was too screwed up to let you in. Thankyou forever.
Phish
J-Man
You are my best mate. I love you. I should have stayed and married you instead. I went to Sydney, you went to the Territory to muster cattle. We are world apart.
I'm sorry that you were the only person I could turn to when I was betrayed by my best mate. I'm sorry that someone else got me pregnant. Its not right. You can't have kids and I can. You want them and I don't. Why did it happen? I would have kept him. You would have loved him even though he wasn't yours. I'm sorry that you got hurt out of it. Before you knew of that, you were planning to move to NSW. Instead you went the other way, as far as you could, and I'll never have you.
You hold a piece of my heart and I don't really want it back. Look after it.
Part of me will always love you. I still dream of going back to Brisbane to be with you some day, but you're not there anymore. If you came to Sydney I'd be yours in a heartbeat.
Phish
SR,
Cunt. You hurt me more than I thought possible. I'll never trust you again.
Green Eyes
I was infatuated. I'm comfortable with you. We are so different. But you don't care about what anyone thinks of you, you are who you are. How can I not be comfortable around that?
I still think of you as a friend. I'd love to catch up sometime, see you in person rather than emails etc.
Movie sometime?
Overflow,
I did like you. I did want more. But it ended before it got there. I thought of you as a friend. After it was over you didn't even want to know my name. I thought you were a nice guy. Thanks for proving to me that even nice guys are assholes. It was a hard lesson to learn. Cruel to be kind and all.
Damn. Friday mornings suck sometimes. A long, grinding week and you have no brain function left. And I'm no exception.
This morning I was asked to do a simple task - roll up a floor mat and take it up to reception. Easy right? Not for Retardogirl its not!
I dragged said matt up to reception. Greeted the security guard, swiped my ID card and tugged at the door. When it didn't open, I put my weight behind it, pulling with my full 85kg. And nearly fell arse over tit when it didn't open.
Realising I had to push the door, I proceeded to do so. Leaning up against the door to try to open it. The security guard was almost pissing himself laughing as he offered to get the door for me. Retardogirl didn't realise she needed to swipe again.
So I swiped and opened the door, dragging the matt through behind me. Red faced, I dumped it under the desk and turned to run away in shame. Only to get two steps and be yanked backwards as my ID card and lanyard got tangled in the drawstring of the bag. As I bent down to untangle it I managed to make a semi redeeming pun about needing a weekend, before I turned and fled.
Nearly knocking myself out on the door that was closing behind me...
For quite a long time I've disliked mushrooms. More than disliked. The thought of adding them to any food was absolutely nauseating to me. I couldn't even stand to add them to spaghetti sauce! It has only been very recently that I can eat them.
This traced back to a very, very vague memory that I had as a child. Indeed, the memory was so vague, that I thought it to be a dream. It has recently been referred to in conversation, and confirmed that it was an actual occurrence.
I must have been 5 or 6. And my father cooked mushrooms for dinner. Now, all he did was braise them in butter. Did I say braise? That indicates that it might be something nice. He took it a bit far though, always 'braised' his mushrooms in butter, until they resembled some kind of lumpy volcanic mud, dolloped onto your plate. And it stunk to high heavens. He never added anything to it, except maybe some salt and pepper. I'm sure it could be made quite nice, but Dad just massacred it!
Anyway, he served this goo to us one night for dinner. We were given an ultimatum, I think, eat it or no dessert. I don't remember eating it. But my brother did. The whole damn lot. And he sat there and looked uncomfortable after it. And then he did the grossest thing imaginable. He threw up. The whole lot. On.His.Plate! And it looked exactly the fucking same as it did before he ate it.
From: Jane Gilles Date: Wednesday 8 Oct 2008 12.19pm To: David Thorne Subject: Overdue account
Dear David, Our records indicate that your account is overdue by the amount of $233.95. If you have already made this payment please contact us within the next 7 days to confirm payment has been applied to your account and is no longer outstanding.
Yours sincerely, Jane Gilles
From: David Thorne Date: Wednesday 8 Oct 2008 12.37pm To: Jane Gilles Subject: Re: Overdue account
Dear Jane, I do not have any money so am sending you this drawing I did of a spider instead. I value the drawing at $233.95 so trust that this settles the matter.
Regards, David.
From: Jane Gilles Date: Thursday 9 Oct 2008 10.07am To: David Thorne Subject: Overdue account
Dear David, Thankyou for contacting us. Unfortunately we are unable to accept drawings as payment and your account remains in arrears of $233.95. Please contact us within the next 7 days to confirm payment has been applied to your account and is no longer outstanding.
Yours sincerely, Jane Gilles
From: David Thorne Date: Thursday 9 Oct 2008 10.32am To: Jane Gilles Subject: Re: Overdue account
Dear Jane, Can I have my drawing of a spider back then please.
Regards, David.
From: Jane Gilles Date: Thursday 9 Oct 2008 11.42am To: David Thorne Subject: Re: Re: Overdue account
Dear David, You emailed the drawing to me. Do you want me to email it back to you?
Yours sincerely, Jane Gilles
From: David Thorne Date: Thursday 9 Oct 2008 11.56am To: Jane Gilles Subject: Re: Re: Re: Overdue account
Dear Jane,
Yes please.
Regards, David.
From: Jane Gilles Date: Thursday 9 Oct 2008 12.14pm To: David Thorne Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Overdue account
Attached
From: David Thorne Date: Friday 10 Oct 2008 09.22am To: Jane Gilles Subject: Whose spider is that?
Dear Jane, Are you sure this drawing of a spider is the one I sent you? This spider only has seven legs and I do not feel I would have made such an elementary mistake when I drew it.
Regards, David.
From: Jane Gilles Date: Friday 10 Oct 2008 11.03am To: David Thorne Subject: Re: Whose spider is that?
Dear David, Yes it is the same drawing. I copied and pasted it from the email you sent me on the 8th. David your account is still overdue by the amount of $233.95. Please make this payment as soon as possible.
Yours sincerely, Jane Gilles
From: David Thorne Date: Friday 10 Oct 2008 11.05am To: Jane Gilles Subject: Automated Out of Office Response
Thankyou for contacting me. I am currently away on leave, traveling through time and will be returning last week.
Regards, David.
From: David Thorne Date: Friday 10 Oct 2008 11.08am To: Jane Gilles Subject: Re: Re: Whose spider is that?
Hello, I am back and have read through your emails and accept that despite missing a leg, that drawing of a spider may indeed be the one I sent you. I realise with hindsight that it is possible you rejected the drawing of a spider due to this obvious limb ommission but did not point it out in an effort to avoid hurting my feelings. As such, I am sending you a revised drawing with the correct number of legs as full payment for any amount outstanding. I trust this will bring the matter to a conclusion.
Regards, David.
From: Jane Gilles Date: Monday 13 Oct 2008 2.51pm To: David Thorne Subject: Re: Re: Re: Whose spider is that?
Dear David, As I have stated, we do not accept drawings in lei of money for accounts outstanding. We accept cheque, bank cheque, money order or cash. Please make a payment this week to avoid incurring any additional fees.
Yours sincerely, Jane Gilles
From: David Thorne Date: Monday 13 Oct 2008 3.17pm To: Jane Gilles Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Whose spider is that?
I understand and will definately make a payment this week if I remember. As you have not accepted my second drawing as payment, please return the drawing to me as soon as possible. It was silly of me to assume I could provide you with something of completely no value whatsoever, waste your time and then attach such a large amount to it.
Regards, David.
From: Jane Gilles Date: Tuesday 14 Oct 2008 11.18am To: David Thorne Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Whose spider is that?
the time I watched a friend repeatedly smash himself over the head with a glass
the flowers I got on Friday
how everybody smelt like sex on Friday
the gym instructor who shits me
and the gym instructor that tells us to work out to music, but who cannot pick the beat to save his life.
why I was gutted by the news on the day Obama won the election.
the time I cleaned the floor with bread (yes, this really did happen).
I could blog it all. But, you see, I've lost my blogging mojo. I can't find it anywhere. I even looked down the back of the couch. The truth is that right now, my life is pretty basic - work, gym, sleep, repeat. I don't even cook or eat really.
I know if I say I'll be back in a month, I won't. I either won't come back, or I'll be blogging again in 2 days. The truth is, I'll be back... whenever I'm back.
Fuck me, I soo have the Menstrual Madness today. But there is one thing that will always perk me up. Money. Fuck off, I already know I'm a shallow bitch.
So I'm fucking grumpy. It has a little to do with the expected arrival of Aunt Flo. But mostly its because I'm shitty at work. I'm currently working for our sister organisation. We still have some work over there, and they are understaffed, so I got sent over to help out. And everybody there whinges about the work they've been left with, which is nobody's fault. And the people who work where I am. I get that they're understaffed, just shut up and fuck off already! So after almost a month, this constant nagging has given me the shits.
Well, not literally. This new diet of mine means I'm trying to push out rocks. Thank fuck I don't actually eat anything, or I'd be trying to push out boulders!!!
So I wander to work today. There are alot of freaks in my work area. A LOT! Coming out of the train station I had to giggle. There was this 'lady' standing on the corner, wearing knee high boots, big hair, and a leopard print cropped jacket. And she's talking to a guy in a silk shirt and black pants. Walking past them I notice the pattern on his shirt. Small quarter moons and stars. It looks like dude is wearing a freaking pyjama shirt! For all the world, they don't have that air about them, but they sure as fuck look like a pro and her pimp, her pimp in a pyjama shirt.
A little further up the road I spy with my little eye, someone who looks like a bag lady, wearing a top hat (sleek and tall), with a bright red feather boa wrapped around it! See, everybody is a cup fasionista these days!
I had put some money on last night. Now, I don't know anything about the races. I should, but I don't. I am fully prepared to put money on, but not get any back. Its just for the fun of it. My budget this year was $20, plus sweep money. Got myself a mystery bet, and ended up with the favourites. I played a bit of email ping pong, trying to get in on the work sweep, but to no avail. I wasn't there when they were doing the sweeping, so I couldn't do it. I managed to get in on a departmental sweep at morning tea.
As for the race itself, I decided to leave the place I was working and go 'home' for it. I hit the door 5 minutes before the race started. Refreshments were out (which I avoided), and they had mini sausage rolls (which smelt better than sex). There were 3 horses left in a sweep. I put my money in, and dragged out some ponies.
It was a truly awesome race to watch.
So Viewed won. A beautiful win it was too. Sooo close. It turns out that the last pony I pulled out of the sweep was... Viewed! Huzzah! And I got all of my gambling money back, plus $5. Which is great.
And I left there on such a high. Partly cuz the nameless hottie was looking at me. Shaddup. I'm going to do something about it, as soon as I go back to working where I belong.
And then I almost got hit by a taxi going home. Stupid fucker.
This weekend has been pretty eventful. Friday was a mate's 21st. And he had a party. Not too much really, but it was fun. I rocked up approximating on time (read:an hour late) and proceeded to meet people.
The party itself was fun. I didn't drink. I drove, and I used that as an excuse. I didn't want to drink because alcohol is the anti diet. At dinner I refused the pasta and potato bakes (which I LOVE), and had a roast meat roll with gravy (heaven) and salad. And then proceeded to snack on m&m's and penuts for the rest of the night. D'oh!
There was karaoke. Which was fun. Especially fun was watching my highly drunk boss get up and scream Sweet Child of Mine. Which I recorded. It was painful!
About an hour later the police showed up. There had been reports of a brawl. The neighbours heard my boss, and reported a freaking brawl! Yes, she was that bad!
I wandered out the front, where there were a group of people hiding, yes hiding behind the gate. Like they were all doing something wrong. One guy even had his drink hidden behind his back. Like the police could even see a glass bottle in the dark, behind a fence, in a mob of people. The guy was asking if it was ok for him to have his drink out there (in the back yard). I looked at him and asked if he was over 18. He gave me some smart arsed response along the lines of, 'Do I look like I'm under 18?' At which point I pointed out that he was overaged, at a private party. He's allowed to drink. He pondered this for a second, then held his drink in front of him.
Anyhoo, after the police turned up, all the youngun's disappeared. So it was pretty much me, my boss and her mate, the birthday boy, his family, his closest mates and the karaoke machine. I stayed for about another hour, then headed off. I was sleepy, and had a belly ache from eating nuts.
Damn. I never thought I'd be so old as to say that :(
Anyhoo, I awoke rather late yesterday. Quite happy and feeling lazy. I soon found out that I bought AA batteries instead of AAA! Oh noes!!! I was gutted. But still managed to have some fun.
So I finally drag my satisfied arse (I'm not taking that back) out of bed and get ready to head to the gym. My phone rings and its a mate of mine, I grab a breakfast shake and hit the door. Her dogs are in the vets (for 2 weeks, muchly $$$) and we head off to visit them. This is all the result of a contaminated treat, but I'll not go into details here for legal reasons.
Afterwards we trek out for sushi, then up to her parents place. We're intending to go see Max Payne, but my eyes are itchy as all shit, so we quit that and head home. I race in the door, unsure if I want to rip out my contacts or go tot he bathroom first. I compromise. Out comes the offending contact and I head to the bathroom.
After removing the remaining contact I boot up my computer and begin to do dishes. At which point all hell breaks loose. When I return to my desk to pick up a cup, I find several pleas to call a friend - one of herkids has stepped on a kitten and its dying. She doesn't have a car, so she needs a lift to the vets. I grab my keys and head out the door. What followed was 2 and a half hours of driving around for her, listening to her berate her children and blame them for killing the kitten. And then taking her to get dinner.
She invited me in when I dropped her home, but I declined. My eyes were still sore and I was tired. Also, having been to the vets for 2 different people in one day had me a little nervy that I might be taking my babies to the vet that night, you know, since bad things happen in threes.
Arriving home, I found a police car, a divvy van, and an ambulance all stationed around my place. Umm. Ok then. Heading in, I find the security doors in the basement were absolutely shattered. It looked like someone had been in there throwing bricks at it. And, indeed, there was a brick in there. And about four policemen walk out of the apartment opposite mine when I get up to my floor. So I played nosy neighbour for about an hour, with my eye pretty much glued to the peephole.
Then I went to bed.
Today I'm still in my jammies. Its after midday. I intend to go to the gym, and that's about fucking all!
Here is a direct copy/paste of the post on my weight loss blog. Copy/pasted cuz I know you fuckers don't click links :P
****
Much excitement to be had today. I weighed myself. I've been feeling pretty good all week, after taking a few days to adjust to the new diet. And the scales told me I've lost 1.5 kg since Saturday.
WOW!!!
Yay fucking me!
So, a quick rundown on the diet.
I'm doing celebrity slim. I didn't like the meal plan. So I tweaked it. Mostly because people lose weight on that diet without exercising, and I wasn't giving up my exercise. Did I say 'tweak'? I means to say 'I ripped it apart and made a new one'.
So the recommended diet is
one shake for breakfast
a low carb, low fat snack
one shake for lunch
a low carb, low fat snack
a 'balanced' dinner (read: chicken/other lean meat and vege)
a low carb, low fat snack.
But no fruit (small apples, small oranges, half a mango, half a cup of berries, pears and peaches, max 3 servings of each per week), no carbs (cereal bread, rice, pasta), max 6 eggs a week.
Now, I can do snacks. I love snacks. That type of eating plan is what I live for. But I can't do the no fruit and no cereal thing. Especially since I went out and bought a stack of fruit that was on the 'naughty list', and 2 boxes of breakfast cereal. Plus I figured that since I was exercising I needed the extras, I could have them, so long as I was careful.
So what I tend to do is
bowl of cereal for breakfast, with carb blocker and vitamins
museli and yoghurt, or strawberries and yoghurt
salad, chicken and veg, or sammich.
apple on the walk from work to the train station
fruit when I get home (a WHOLE mango or some melon). I need the boost for...
GYM
shake for dinner
maybe some crackers with low fat tzatziki, or reduced fat avo dip for a snack.
I keep a meal and exercise diary too. It has an easy column to measure how much exercise you've had, how much water you've drunk, and you're fruit/vege intake per day. I drink about 2 litres of water a day. Very easy considering how much I sweat at the gym. And if I go to the gym late I skip the fruit when I get home, and have 'dinner' beforehand.
I should also point out that I have cut back on what I eat too. I used to have a snack as museli/yoghurt and fruit, and a big bowl of fruit salad when I got home from work. But I've dropped that.
The first few days on this diet gave me the most awful headache. And it absolutely fails if you're prone to boredom eating, so this weekend will be quite the test for me. But so far, I'd have to say this one is working quite well. I feel great. I really do.
What is it about public transport that brings out the inner freaks of the already freakish?
I was happily sitting on my air conditioned train, reading my free newspaper when someone comes down the aisle. The train lurches and dude leans over me. He stays there (trying to regain his balance I assumed) until long after the train has steadied again, before taking the seat opposite me.
Dude was wearing cut off denim shorts, a wide open white shirt, with copious amounts of chest hair, and more wrinkles than a shar-pei.
About halfway into my trip he interrupts my reverie to ask where the train was headed. I supplied the intended destination. He began to ask me about the train route. I told him I didn't know, it was an express and I got off at the first stop.
He leaned back and I put my headphones in again.
Then a tug at my paper. I pulled down the corner and looked at him. The old gent was asking about my heritage. Guessing my heritage is no easy task, let me tell you. He was Italian and thought I was Greek. Smile and nod, headphones in ears.
A tug at my paper. I figured the old guy just wanted a chat, so I tolerated it. The questions about what I do, where do my family live, where I work, where I live. After each question I'd put my headphones back in and return to my paper, clearly just wanting to be left the fuck alone. Only to have him tug at it a few minutes later. I told him what suburb I was in and a very loud voice in my head screamed at me to NOT give out personal details. Finally he tells me that he goes out in Parra alot. He's single and looking for a partner.
As if that didn't cause a recoil in my belly, then he had a good, long stare at my boobs.
I began counting the stops. 'Old Gent' had officially become 'Crusty Fucker'. Those four stations have never, never had such a long distance between them.
Sometimes I forget how special my life is. Living in Australia you get a bit 'blah' about our amazing country. We are too laconic.
My mate Kez has recently been posting naked pics of himself. Go on, have a look. Just because I feel weird looking at his willy doesn't mean you shouldn't!
For those still reading, there is a pic there of il papa with a kangaroo. And it reminded me that we have some pretty amazing wildlife. I've worked with kangaroos,
Refused to touch Koala's (diseased little fuckers) hand fed pelicans (a bit nerve racking considering their beaks)
Am so over Budgies, my Dad used to breed themplayed with Wombats, Laughed at Cassowaries. From up above. Dangerous, vicious creatures that they are.
hand fed Tawny Frogmouths, And cockatoos Spent hours watching a platypus swim And had echidna spines on my door.Played with Crows And water dragons. Had a friend own and breed blue tongues
Seen the sky turn grey from the galah's. Studied Emu farming systems Seen countless people swooped by magpies Marvelled at just how tiny Thorny Devils are
Pulled skin worms out of a green tree snake Lived opposite a guy who had a couple of 4m scrub pythons in his room. Nearly trod on a tiger snake Spent endless nights at uni catching frogs Been unmoved by huntsmans. Unless they're in a small space with me (i.e the toilet) or expect me to sleep in the same room. In which case they FREAK ME OUT!Had my blood run cold at the sight of a small spider - the red back And have had close mates work with saltwater crocodiles. Our wild life is just that - wild. Its strange and fascinating. And BORING! We're so used to them, that these creatures that others consider exotic and dangerous. Where they would freak people out, we just know to avoid them. We play with dangerous snakes, spiders and scorpions as easily as we would harmless ones.
This was a really fun post to do. Its not often I truly appreciate what we've got here.
Three months in a new job. I change trains at Town Hall, go two stops to Kings Cross, and walk to work. I've done this every morning for 3 damn months.
This morning I don't know what happened. I climbed up the stairs of the train at the second stop. And stepped out onto the platform of the station past King Cross.
Don't you hate damn moments? I know I do. That moment where you're out there, deliberately or accidentally, and you get utterly no response.
Case in point - The Accidental Damn Moment.
I have been eating healthy over the past few months. And not doing too bad either. I've shed 5kg so far. But that's not the point. I had soup for lunch one fine day. Quite a large bowl of soup. And two slices of (wholemeal) bread. But I decided to head out to get a salad to accompany my soup, since it was mostly water and I'd be famished 2 hours after eating it. So I purchased quite a large salad, figuring I'd eat half and put half in the fridge for the next day.
So I'm sitting there with my sizable salad, my big bowl of soup, a cup of water, and two slices of bread. Ready to chow down. Spoon in hand, I spot someone walk into the tea room and recognise the hot guy. I steadfastly stare down at my food and my blood runs cold, and my stomach sinks to somewhere near my ankles.
I'm staring at the quantity of food in front of me. My sizable salad, my big bowl of soup, my drink AND bread as well.
Damn.
Case in point - The Deliberate Damn Moment.
So we had some visitors to work today, about four in total. We were showing them around and my boss asked me to introduce a room to them. I felt all inspired to crack a fantastic joke. Now, the point here is that I thought (and still do think) that this joke was a brilliant off the cuff moment.
With a grand gesture towards the doors I proclaimed, 'Well, this is Room 138, and this is Room 139.'
Well. I learned something about myself on the weekend. I had a lovely ME date. Took myself out to dinner. At a sushi train. Surprisingly, I don't think anyone would have noticed I was there by myself. Looking around I realised everyone was too preoccupied watching what was coming around the train to be concerned about the white single fattie. Its a good place to go if you're eating by yourself.
Then I went and saw the late screening of My Best Friends Girl. I liked that movie. It was a comedy, but more like a chick flick for guys. I loved the scene where they hooked up.
She grabs his hand and sticks it on her arse, 'You think this is too big?' He grabs her hand and sticks it on his crotch, 'You think this is too small?' They kiss and disappear into the house. Yep. Totally something I'd do.
I did enjoy it, and think it was worth spending the night out seeing. But walking home afterwards I felt... kind of empty. I wasn't ready for the night to end. It would have been nice to be walking home with somebody, laughing and joking about the movie. Quoting crappy lines to each other.
As much as I enjoyed the night, and as much as I love my independance, I'm ready to start dating. It saddens me to type that, and I don't really know why.
But acknowledging the fact is kind of scary. I have resisted that idea for so long. For too long. I've been the fat chick most of my life. Its easier when you're fat. You assume guys are repulsed, you have no expectations. The last few years I've played. Never really interested in settling. Hell, never really caring if I never saw the guy again. In some cases that was a good thing.
Inside me I'm still the fat girl. Guys like what they see, and I know it, but I don't have the confidence to approach, or to let them approach. Where do I start? Outside of work I have the gym. That's it. No dancing. And I'm not into the pub/club crowd. I can fuck a guy. No sweat. Well, lots of sweat, but no worries. But to let them go further... I don't even know really how to date.
Right now the main guy in my life is my personal trainer. And although he's hot, and has a great personality, I have zero interest in him that way. He reminds me very much of my cousin.
I've been watching the hot guy at work since my second day there, but I've disgraced myself pretty much beyond redemption there. Hell, the first time I ever heard him speak was last week, and it wasn't to me. I still don't know his name.
I'm a bit nervy about going back to internet dating too. I never blogged about the last 'date' I had, but it was pretty devastating. Plus if I did resort to internet dating again, it would be for different reasons. I couldn't trust the guys on a new site. At least on the old site they were forward about what they wanted.
I'm at a loss. I have this desire to do something that most girls my age do with little concern. And I don't really know where to begin. I feel like I'm in the middle of a raging river, standing on a rock. I need to get to the bank. Its to close I can see and smell it. People are there, waving to me and calling me to join them, but I don't know how to get there.
So its Saturday. Which equals date night. I've just cleaned. Boy, did I clean (about 4 hours worth)! Now its time to prepare to go out.
I've just started a facial. I'm waiting for my mask to dry, then its a long, hot shower, shaving my legs, and 'kini line (being careful not to aggrivate the ingrown). Then moisturizing all over. I might use self tanning moisturiser on my legs to make them look gorgeous honey brown. Then on with a gorgeous outfit. Maybe a dress? Maybe my 'skinny' jeans with a sexy top, killer heels and a biker jacket. Who knows? The look will be completed with perfume and makeup. And I'm ready for the date.
A movie maybe? Definitely dinner. I'm thinking sushi. Good conversation with a girls true, hot equal. I don't think we'll linger. Maybe we'll move on to the movie. Alone in the dark, so comfortable.
Then home, maybe for a hot passionate session. Why waste freshly shaved goodness? But no pressure if I'm not in the mood.
How nice is it when you have an ingrown hair, and it just sits there for sooo long*, that you're beginning to freak** that you've got herpes*** and you finally free that little fucker.
I don't have herpes. Phew!
*just a little red lump, no infection, no hair visibly hiding. For three weeks dammit! **there is no minor worry stage. You skip that and go for full out freaking. *** cuz I'm such a fucking innocent angel.
Gawd damn, am I bored now? I'm at work. Its a public holiday. There's me and my boss. We're waiting for some cleaners to finish doing what they do, and its all hands on deck for about 20 minutes. Then home time.
Waiting sucks.
I got my first mobile phone when I was 18. It was my dad's second hand crapmobile. I hated it. I had to tape the battery in place, and if you held it the wrong way whilst writing a text, it died. If you pressed to answer a phone call, it died. If you ignored it for too long, it died.
Plus it was hideous. I hated that phone. It didn't even have predicative text!
My second phone was a 3315. I loved that phone. It was everything my old phone wasn't. It was sleek, it was stylish, and it never died. Not even when I dropped it off the second story balcony. It bounced, the cover exploded, but it still loved me. I swear, nokia's are indestructible. I loved that I could personalise it too. It had a Garfield cover, with him sitting in a flowerbed saying something about eating daisies. The ringtone was the muppets. And it did the chicken dance when I got a message. It had all the games you could ever want. There's really nothing better than a game of snake to keep you occupied. I had that phone for 3 years. But I wanted more. I wanted a camera.
So I upgraded. I had a cute little sagem for about 3 months. It was really cute. Mum got (and still has) the cute sagem. I ended up switching to another carrier, and getting a 'cool' new phone.
Biggest.Mistake.Ever!
I went for the LG 8330. Sure, it had a flip. And a camera. And it took reasonable qualilty photos (for that time), but I couldn't transfer the photo's to my computer. The buttons stuck, the battery died, it didn't play music, let alone radio. Yeah, I hated that phone. The only cool thing was the camera, it spun around and you could take pictures from in front or behind the phone. That was pretty cool, but in the end that ended up fucking up too. It got stuck. Poo.
Now I have the n95. Yeah, nothing beats that. Its like sex in a phone. I was sold with the camera. 5mp. That was the thing I refused to budge on. My new phone had to have a 5mp camera. The other features (the mp3 player, GPS, bluetooth, radio, dual slide, web browsing, TV output) are just gravy. Very thick, juicy gravy.
But I do miss features of the 3315. It was simple. Very easy to use. No trying to upgrade software and having my memory deleted. None of that. And it was indestructible. Yeah. I'd have to say that I did love that phone.
Shame it didn't have a camera.
So. Tell me. What was your first mobile? Or what was you most/least favourite and why?
Well, I was a little nervous drafting the last post. I wasn't sure how it would be received. But it seems to have gone ok. Either that, or you lovely people remembered some wise words; 'if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all'.
**** I hate September. Fucking Christmas decorations always go up. I spotted this on the 25th. 3 full months before Christmas. Fuck! I'm broke now. I don't need to go thinking about bloody spending money I don't have.
**** A few days ago I went to go to the bathroom. As I went reached the door, I found it to be locked, so began to walk away. Two steps later and the door opens behind me. Brilliant! I am in much need of a pee.
A lady walks out and advises me to wait a few minutes. Which I'm ok with. She doesn't want the embarrassment of me going into her smell, and I sure as hell don't want that discomfort. So I turn to go. And she follows me down the corridor, telling me she shouldn't have eaten the curry last night. I hesistated, shocked. Apparently that's the human cue for 'do go on', cuz she proceeded to tell me how 'they always say to eat the chilli, but you never should.'
TMI much?
**** I saw the new Mummy movie today. I did quite like it. Although it wasn't as funny as the original two. So not as many snappy one liners as you'd expect. And I thought that Rick suddenly having Matrix style martial arts skills was a bit over the top.
But the thing that shitted me most... Rachel Weisz didn't play Evie. So they got some random chick to do it. And she ruined the character. Evie was an intelligent scatterbrain. And a bit of a tom-girl. You know, not afraid to get dirty, but goes all gooey for her man. The new Evie was intelligent, but not a scatterbrain. More centred. And she fought! What was with that? She could defend herself in the old movies, but not attack. New Evie played with guns. Rachel's Evie didn't do that. She thought it was just silly. And new Evie's accent was definitely an American failing to do English. Bad job. They should have killed her off when she didn't sign up.
And Rick called her Evie, right from the start! Bullshit! In the first two movies he always called her Evelyn. The only time he didn't was when she died.
But the Yeti's were fucking AWESOME!!!
**** I have a few disgusting habits. One of them is born from a paranoia that my vadge smells. Every time I go to the ladies, I swipe and sniff. I gotta say, the vast majority of the time, its not a bad smell.
So. The question was asked. And the answer shall be given.
I was that girl. Who could only have disgraced herself more if she had pissed herself at the same time. But you know what, it was so worth it.
I'm going to say that on a 9/10 scale she made a complete fool of herself in front of one of the guys she has a crush on at work, then managed to fall over in public and thanks to way too much free grog the comments of her stomach decided to eject themselves, but at least it was memorable.
Am I close?
Well Kez, yes you were. But you had inside help there. Even though I don't remember texting you, the evidence remains in my phone.
We had a celebration at work. The free champagne flowed. And flowed. And flowed. And then got split, before flowing again. I wouldn't say I made a complete fool of myself. But I was dancing with my hands in the air. I was stumbling around a fair bit. And I did fall over. That I remember quite clearly. I was trying to be all sexy and wiggle around and show off. And I bobbed down... and down... and then fell over. Much laughter was had and I attempted to pass it off as a deliberate move. I failed. But quite happily. One of the guys at work helped me off the ground and we all had a good laugh at me.
The party started to die down and the hottie had left, though I suspect he saw me fall over. So we decided to head to the train station. I staggered, and stumbled all the way. Giggles abounded.
I staggered onto the train. Found myself a seat. And promptly passed out. I blearily opened my eyes as two girls sat opposite me. I shut my eyes and passed out again.
I awoke next, with the feeling of upchuck in progress. I clamped a hand over my mouth and tried to bite back. I failed. Epically. Hand still over my mouth I began to kick the girl sitting opposite me. I indicated that she should move, and she did. The guy sitting next to her fled. Chivalry is dead. Another guy in the carriage handed me a pack of tissues with which I attempted to clean myself up. The window was opened and I was grateful for the fresh air.
I passed out again.
I next awoke to the same feeling. Upchuck. Massive upchuck. Epic upchuck. Nothing was going to stop this. Helplessly I just let it out. All.Over.Myself.
EWWWWWW!!!!!
Repeat.
EWWWWWW!!!!!!
I fled this time. With utter mortification. And apologising profusely, promising to get off at the next stop. I flicked open my phone to call a mate to come pick me up from wherever I was (I had no idea) and the fucker died. I kept trying to turn it on, but kept dropping it, exploding the back cover off and sending the battery flying. I did this at least three times.
So all I could do was stand near the door, and wait for my stop. Luckily it was only two stations away. I wrapped my cardi around me to try to conceal the gunk, though the stench probably gave it away.
I got off at the appropriate station, and stumbled home. As I stood on the corner waiting for the lights to change, random dude asked if my phone was working. I assured him I was fine and disappeared.
I woke two hours later on the bathroom floor, jumped into the shower fully clothed, and headed to bed. With bucket.
The next day was... interesting. I felt ok, but my stomach was a tad sore. I couldn't keep down fluids. They came right up. I spent morning tea stretched out on the floor of the change room. It was quiet and dark and I needed a nap. I kept getting interesting looks from people. I managed to keep down fluids (flat lemonade) by morning tea and solids (chips and gravy) by lunch. Though was still quite tender.
General consensus is that I enjoyed the party immensely. Possibly the most out of everyone there. They didn't see the disgrace of the train. And I'll never see the randoms from the train again.
All in all, the night was quite enjoyable. I'd do it again. Though, maybe next time, I wouldn't have the last glass of champagne.
A girl stands on a corner, waiting for the light to change. She smells of vomit, her shirt is wet and she sways slightly. A stranger asks her if she's been having problems with her phone and she replies 'nah, nah mate. I'm fine.'
At the gym yesterday. It was freaking hot and I'm sweating my arse off. Sexy much? Well, my hot personal trainer come in from his other job and we get to chatting.
Attempting to make a comment about the atmosphere in the gym, my tongue falls over itself and creates the statement, 'I don't know if its just you, but its hot in here.'
Ok. My electricity bill came in. Its high. Damn high. Over $500. And my roomie will expect me to pay half.
The kicker is that I would use the dryer for an average of one hour a week. And she would use it for about three hours a week. Her boyfriend spends at least half of the nights of the week here. And he does shower and wash/dry his clothes here occasionally too.
So it's been a week since I blogged. Like last week, this one has a bit to blog about.
Darling Harbour is having fireworks. Just because. Anyhoo, a friend and I decided to head into the city to catch them. I love fireworks. And yes, there is audio with these, and I am talking in the background.
Nothing will make you feel more like a kid than watching fireworks. Unless, it's crawling around in a fountain at night. Sober.
*** Sunday was at the gym. As is normal now I guess. I failed my weigh in. Boo. Then I did some grocery shopping and had a quick (healthy) lunch. And whilst I was eating I was people watching. A family sat down opposite me and I watched. And judged. I judged like all hell!
One of the boys sat down with a chicken schnitzel and nothing else. He picked up his crumbed, greasy chunk of chicken flesh with his hands, and began to eat it LIKE IT WAS A COOKIE! Surely his mum would smack him across the back of the head when she sat down with her lunch. But no. And I judged her for that. But not as bad as when I saw her lunch. Grilled fish with sauce and chips. Which she ate with her fingers as well. Not just the chips, she picked up the soggy fish with her fingers, slopped it around the plate and shoved her fingers up to the second knuckle, all the way in her gob.
Stomach turning I got up to leave. And as I walked past the table, I saw the other one. The other grotty little kid. With one hand wrapped around a burger and the other buried deep in his pants, scratching his arse.
***
This morning I caught the train as per usual. There were a group of young school boys on the train. Typical kids. Loud, obnoxious brats. Being kids. Whatever, I was going to get off the train in two stops. But there was this cranky looking old 'lady' glaring at these kids. Not only that, but she was chewing too. Like she just wanted to leap over the seats and beat those kids over the head. But she was holding back, literally biting back her rage. I imagine it was the female version of Fingers.
***
We have toilets at work. Strange but true. And these toilets have locks on the doors. Well, I should say toilet, because there is only one, and it's unisex. We all piss in the same pot. So I went to the bathroom today, fiddled with the lock to make sure it was locked, and sat to do my business.
Finishing up, I pulled my underwear up, and the door flew open! I turned around with a shock to see a coworker, look of horror on her face, staring at me. I was so lucky it was a) a girl, and b) that I had pulled up my underwear.
She got a look at my fat (covered) ass and thighs, but that was about it. We've been laughing about it all afternoon. But it was a *tad* embarrassing.
So the last few days have been pretty big for me. And my gelatinous waistline. I'll try to tell it all in order.
First: The Conference...
I had a work conference. It was great. My first conference. I was sharing a registration with a coworker. She got to go for 2 days, but I'm not complaining. If I had to pick one day, it would have been the one I was allocated. However, I did get to go to a dinner on both Wednesday and Thursday. Free champagne was to be had. And free food, but who really cares about that when there is champagne? We had a lovely waitress on Wednesday who would target us and refill our glasses, then do a round, return to us, refill our glasses and then pick up dishes. I love her. Thursday dinner was a harbour cruise. And I LOVED it. I love Sydney, and the skyline from out there was brilliant. But, after a few champagnes I stopped admiring the view and got to the merry making.
Friday was the conference itself. I loved it. Being the last day they were giving away everything rather than pack it up. I scored at 3 bags and filled them with least a dozen stress balls, a full set of mugs, 2kg of cat litter and about 50 pens/pencils. I also acquired *hem*stole*hem* roughly 50 teabags and 10 hot chocolates. And I went all klepto on packets of breath mints before they stopped putting them out too. I love free shit. I had to carry 3 bags of shit (plus my bulging handbag) back in the rain, but it was so worth it.
Second: A few hours to myself... sorta.
I went home straight after the conference. The weekend was my flying (literally) visit to Melbourne so I didn't have much time. I did a basic clean and headed out to the gym. My personal trainer had me doing weight and finished off with some ab work. There was a strange move where I lay on the ground, with my arms stretched upwards. I grabbed his ankles and he bent over, held his hands out and I tried to touch them with my feet. As we assumed the position and he held his hands up, I glanced up and saw the shadows in his shorts. And all that went through my head was 'look at his hands lookathishands lookathishands lookathishands lookathishands.'
Third: The party
Saturday I flew to Melbourne. Flight was ok. Strangely, for a Qantas flight, it was uneventful. The added bonus was that there was pretty much nil chance of terrorists. I figured they wouldn't bother with a carrier that could do the job for them.
Kez picked me up and the plan was for him to drop me at my rellies where I'd be staying. We'd be there a polite amount of time, and then head into the city. Well, that was the plan. It failed. My rellies can gasbag. My sincerest apologies kez. I was all ready to leave when they started talking about some really juicy gossip to do with my cousin and his wife. And her family. I wanted to see one picture of the brides mother, and then we got stuck scrolling through family pics. Which I found boring, but it must have been mind numbing for kez. He tolerated it well.
One highlight though, I was putting on my rings and my mother made a comment about my 'penis fingers'. This cracked Kez and myself up no end. Of course we were both thinking of my penchant for masturbation, but not game enough to say it. And yes, I do have penis fingers, they are quite satisfying.
Kez dropped me back in the city for dinner. Right out the front of the place where we were going to eat. Sadly no time for a coffee or any boobie flashing or assorted shenanigans, but I did get a good laugh watching him burn his arse with a cigarette.
Dinner itself was really quite nice. Lovely even. But expensive. And I didn't really appreciate the deep fried beans. I did, however, enjoy the mouthful of wine that arrived with each course. I especially liked taking the glass that my brother or Dad's partner didn't want and (classily) tipping it into my glass and drinking it from there. But I missed out on my fried ice cream. I adore fried ice cream and its something that I have if its on a Chinese menu. Alas, this time they had run out.
25 hours in Melbourne, and it was time to fly back. It was short but sweet. If it had been much longer I'd have made plans to catch up with people, and would have run myself ragged.
Fourth: The nameless hottie...
Right from the get go at work, I've admired the sexy in the vicinity. But there is one in particular. I've been watching him from my second day. I have no reason to talk to him. He works on my floor, but on the other side of it, behind walls and stuff. I noticed him every time I saw him. But didn't acknowledge him, because being acknowledged by a stranger is just weird.
A week or so ago, we ran into each other in the cafeteria. And I realised that even though I had been systematically ignoring him (its a girl thing), and he hadn't paid me any attention, he knew who I was. Several times since we've made and momentarily held eye contact in passing.
I resolved to find out his name. By asking a co worker who I felt would be quite discrete. Today the chance happened. Several others were going out to a meeting, and he was walking around in sight, at the other side of the floor. I quickly grabbed my coworkers arm and asked her if she knew his name. She turned and looked at him, as did the two other people there. I realised it was as obvious as the sun, refused to look at him and blushed Zoidberg red. Maybe news will follow. Maybe not. Who knows. But I did catch him looking over to my desk this afternoon.
As an aside... Note to self: Don't wear boyshort panties to the gym. They tend to turn into a g-string type situation and its just not fun being on the cross trainer with the feeling of something trying to poke the back of your eyeballs through your arse.
What do you do when you walk into an elevator and it smells slightly like someone farted? Do you turn and walk out, or stay and hope its just stale overcrowded elevator smell? Is the smell of a stale overcrowded elevator just stale farts anyway?
I have written something special. Should I not wait and just hit publish?
Why do people like to pick pimples? Do some people not like to do it?
What is your favourite sexual position? What about perversions?
What is your favourite food? Alcoholic beverage? Hell, on a good night they are one and the same.
If you could realistically meet just one blogger. Who would it be?
I have an obsession with my underarms, would you care to explain it?
Boobs are fantastic. Everybody loves boobs. Why do men not have a body part which is as widely adored as boobs?
I've heard of men who don't like blowjobs. Are they a myth?
I am guest posting today. To hear about how I met my future husband - go HERE.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Yeah, that was so me the other day. As most of you are aware, I have issues. If you don't know what I'm talking about you can either read the previous post or fuck off. Some of you may have guessed the extent of my problems, so for those who haven't... I will most likely be going on meds. I dunno. I have to get to the docs at some stage.
Well, as the saying goes, what hits the fan shall not be evenly distributed. It has hit, and distribution has happened. I told both my brother and sister that I was struggling. My brothers immediate response was to offer to fly me down. My sister's response was to tell me I'm full of shit. Shit happened. I decided I couldn't go down. My brother was supportive.
This morning I had that 'screw my sister' attitude (bipolar much?), I wasn't going to ruin my weekend away because of her. So frantic texts and emails have flown about today and I'm flying down Saturday morning, being looked after by Kez (innit he a sweetie?), having dinner with my Dad, then heading home Sunday afternoon. A flurry of a weekend. I have the Monday approved off. I won't be needing it to travel (as intended), but I may need it to sleep.
This picture has nothing to do with anything, it just cracks me up.
The skink, defying death from the one place he cannot be touched.
So I go thim outside in my potted herbs. He was kinda cute and I hope he sticks around.
