Wednesday, October 27, 2010


I don't know why on earth I ever compromised myself for someone that was such a game player. And no I don't mean the sexy-time Twister type of game, I mean the 'total head-f*ck, what the hell is going on' kind of game. I'd liken our entire on again, off again relationship to a game of draughts. I was the player that never made it to the other side of the board to become King, only ever able to move forward one tiny square at a time whilst he jumped all over me like some sort of border-crossing cane toad in every direction until I was forced to admit he'd well and truly invaded my territory.
Why would a simple person with simple values like myself attempt to go head to head with someone that thrives on playing games in an effort to keep things interesting. Someone who reguarly says one thing whilst thinking the complete opposite?
Because I think I forgot that it doesn't HAVE to be that way. It doesn't have to be that hard and nor should it. I didn't have to be in a relationship where most of the time I had no idea what was going on, where I felt like every conversation, every comment was designed to make me fail some test for which I'd never seen a practice paper. Like walking into some sort of elaborate relationship trap.
Now all of a sudden I feel like I've sucked in a massive breath of fresh air; and it doesn't hurt that it's come in the form of a very nicely packaged HOT COUSIN. (Obviously not MY cousin).
How lovely to have met someone that has no interest in playing games, but someone who actually comes out and says 'what are we doing, let's not muck around, I like you let's do it'. And before you scold me, I don't mean that IT! Although...
I guess it's about finding someone that wants the same things as you just as much as it's about finding someone that you are also attracted to, someone who you like as a person and someone that makes you feel special every time you think of them.
As a wise person once said - you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you meet your prince.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Out with the old...

Relief comes in many forms it would seem. There is the kind of relief you get when you find out you made it home after a night out without losing your mobile again, the kind you get when you pull into the driveway having made it all the way home on empty, the kind you get when you make it to work without being busted by the ticket inspector and the kind you experience when you realize you don’t actually want to be with Dumper anymore, ever again.

After the initial 24 hours of contemplating how much weight I stood to lose on account of being ditched for the THIRD time by the same person, something amazing happened…

Having not eaten all day I accepted the kind invitation of a colleague to join her for dinner; I went to the trouble of showering, drying my eyes and fluffing my hair, jumped in the car, cranked up the Eurythmics 'Thorn in My Side' on the radio and drove to Richmond.

3 flights of stairs awaited me when I reached said colleagues apartment. I struggled up the stairs on the 5 cups of tea, one mouthful of curry and generous amount of Valium I had consumed in the last 24 hours and upon reaching her landing she leapt across the threshold and gave me a hug. Whilst basking in the warmth of her hug and thinking how lucky I am to have such great friends, I peered over her shoulder and nearly passed out. There, sitting calmly on her newly purchased IKEA upholstery, was a truly delicious creature that she then went on to introduce as her single, HOT cousin.

Suddenly my appetite is BACK.

Friday, September 10, 2010


To the phantom fluffer on my tram this evening - please refrain from passing wind in my presence in future. I find it distressing, not to mention CONFUSING. Like where were you? You kept moving, wafting in and out of range so that I couldn't quite pin you down. I turned to the left and you were there, so I turned to the right and there you were again, waiting for me. I can't escape you, yet you remain faceless.
Do I need to start carrying a packet of Redheads around with me? I hope not; I really hope you just had a bad curry at lunchtime.

Home or Away?

How long do we stay away from home for? If everyone else has moved back to where it all started, should you move back too? How long can you last being away from it before something starts to pull you back in, before you start to rethink whether you should remain as the only one that hasn't moved back home? How long do you remain away trying to replace that warm, comfortable feeling of being home? Are the new things you experience whilst living away from home worth all the things you miss out on? Like watching your nieces get bigger and bigger and hearing their conversation evolve; like being there to visit your grandparents and light up their day; like being able to go back to your parents house to say hi, eat warm food and help them out when they aren't well? Like being able to share in an old friend's first pregnancy or finishing a bottle of wine with one who's decided not to get married?
If sharing your family's experiences is what keeps you grounded and aware of where you came from, then what happens to you when you no longer live near them, when you miss out on all the little special family things for the sake of trying to create your own experiences, you're own life? Is it right that you're life no longer really intertwines with theirs, can you ever really hope to create that same feeling of belonging and familiarity if you move away without taking anything of home with you? Or more importantly ANYONE?
Whilst we so enjoy the new experiences we create, the new people we meet and attempting to be independent individuals in this world, can we ever hope to recreate a new home away from home? What is it that creates that atmosphere, familiarity and security?
How can we really hope to create that with new people and places when they don't know where you came from, how can anyone really hope to understand another person without knowing those details? How can we move forward without looking back every so often?

Monday, August 2, 2010

To hat or not to hat

Hey bald people, who do you think you're kidding with the Dicky Knee impersonations?? We know your bald, wearing a hat 24 hours a day is not fooling anyone. You're bald. Own it.
Don't get me wrong, I can't imagine losing one's hair is much fun, however it's far more disappointing to make the discovery that underneath that cute little hat is a comb-over. I mean if you had just embraced your baldness we wouldn't be so drastically disappointed when the hat comes off. What are you so afraid of? If you really care that much embrace your inner Warney and go and get new hair put in.
Whatever. Just take OFF the hat, it's night-time you fool.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Coming of age?

In the 16 days that have passed since I last blogged I've turned 28. This seemingling insignificant age was anything but uneventful as I managed to channel my inner 18 yr old by being politely asked to leave one venue and then kicked to the curb from the other. And so it goes that the usual week-long birthday festival brought with it a few harsh realities.
The first came in the form of a very thoughtful gift to visit a beautician from 5 of my dearest girlfriends...with one of them suggesting I try the collagen infused facial...clearly I am looking a little lacklustre in my old age! But at least we can laugh about it.
The second realisation was that despite my best intentions I am still unable to celebrate a birthday without getting ludicrously drunk before 9pm thus resulting in me getting my hug on with every single guest. So much love to give, much like an excited dog. The third came in the form of my dear friends; realising that they all genuinely care about my happiness as much as I care about thiers which leads me to the fourth. That just because you might care about someone doesn't mean they care about you to the same extent. That different people, whilst they may really like each other can have very different views of what a good relationship is. And that the more you give the more they will take so that you are forced at some point to say that enough is enough. So many people get walked all over by people they care about because that person thinks you will always be there no matter what. But even the most giving of people can get sick of being taken for granted. And I guess that's when you're supposed to stand up and push back otherwise they will keep taking little pieces of you until there is nothing left.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Tick tock...

They say (well my mother does) that good things come to those that wait. But why do good things have to wait??!
Why would a good thing sit around waiting for someone else to determine what happens in their life? Timing is an interesting concept; people are not always ready for relationships at the same time. A lot of people say the success of a relationship is less about the people involved and more about when they decided to get involved.
Even so, surely if one person really likes the other then the timing becomes right? Or perhaps it actually relies on the person that isn't ready, making it happen when they are. But then the other person might be well and truly over it.
Timing; apparently it's everything.

Story books

As the pages of my life's story fill up with every year that passes by, I'm forced to reflect on how various decisions have led me to the place I am now. A happy childhood, followed by an awkward high school stint, then a few years of uni filled with serious boyfriends and wishing that I was a few years older so I could do the serious things in life like get married, set up house...and now there is the late 20's where I have realised that if I had gone down the road I thought I would take in my early 20's, I would be miserable. Whilst in many ways I have reverted back to some of the things I did when I was younger, I feel I am doing those things now with the perspective I lacked 10 years ago and a very different attitude.
Would I rewrite any of my story? I've decided no. Sure there are things I wish I hadn't done; but they are mainly things that hurt other people. So far as the things I've learnt, the places I've seen, the people I have met; I wouldn't change a thing. The relationships I've had, well there is at least one that I think I could have done without, but they have led me to places I never would have been before and to people I would otherwise never have met.
As we travel along life's path I think we begin to come to peace with the fact that to a certain extent you do write your own story but that there are also many things that are out of our control. Past pages are filled with events that occurred as a result of my own choices; and things that happened supposedly by chance. But then, is there such a thing as chance or coincidence?
I think everything happens for a reason, that to a certain extent we affect the things that happen in our lives but that many things that happen are in fact determined by someone else's path, someone else's choices, affecting yours.
Because we don't all exist as single entities do we? We exist singuarly but also together. My choices will inevitably affect someone else's at some point. My choice to stop seeing one person and start seeing another will affect 2 other people's story. Stepping in front of someone in the supermarket queue affects how quickly the person behind will get out of there and get home to thier family. Or their cat as the case may be!
If I hadn't followed one person interstate I never would have moved for a second time and met dozens of other new people. For that reason I think we should reflect on the positive things that eventuate as a result of a seemingly negative choice. As one door closes another is always opening; finding that opening and realising it happened as a result of another closing is the key to establishing perspective on life. That it is not about what you don't have, it is about what you do have and accepting that tomorrow is a new day, that although you may have plans for that day and the days beyond, the best laid plans can come unstuck.
Either way though, for better or worse, that is what makes life exciting and what keeps you feeling alive.
I don't want to rush through my life, I want to appreciate it as I go. I don't know what that means for my future; but not knowing is what keeps me moving forward and adding pages to my story.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

The Patience Stool

Have we become so impatient that no one will wait for anything anymore? Even if it's another person? Even if waiting means you might get something truly amazing at the end of it? Are we so driven by instant gratification that no one is patient enough to wait for anything. And when did waiting for someone become so ridiculous? When did we start dissing people for being patient?
It seems I need to have some time out on the patience stool. Apparently my mother's favourite saying "good things come to those who wait" is suddenly back in fashion. But it's a trend I'm having trouble embracing. And one which I'm just not sure is in my makeup. I don't like being told what to do and I don't like just sitting around waiting for something to happen and relying on someone else's decison making processes.
So do I sit down on the patience stool? Do I hang around like Larry Lurker to see if he actually wants to progress what we currently have - a good time - to something a little more meaningful. Or do I bail and throw myself wholeheartedly into the dating game and do my damndest to forget about him. Trouble is, the creep has infiltrated my subconsious so there is now no escape especially when sitting in front of other potential suitors. Comparison is a killer.

Monday, June 7, 2010

This week's favourite things

* Mix 101.1fm's Love Song Dedications - Fatima just called Richard to say that her boyfriend Arley has just been senteced to 7 yrs jail and she's 4 months up the duff...classic Love Song Dedications moment. And the song request...Bryan Adams, "Everything I do, I do it for you". Wonder what he did...

*Brownies - when you wake up, when you get home, when you're about to go to bed

*Realising the reason your car isn't moving forward despite your best efforts on the accelerator is because you left Rod Stewart blaring but turned the engine OFF whilst returning your dvd's...

*Being reminded of the reason you got into the pub without paying - you told the bouncer you were "with the band"...after running into 3 unsuspecting band members on the street and convincing them it was essential they let you carry thier microphone stand and a guitar into the venue.

White goods conspiracy

A friend of mine opened up my fridge last night and said "you know what this fridge says to me Sarah? This fridge symbolises your entire existence. The very root of your personality and lifestyle. Void of anything practical or nutritional (eggs, salad, vegetables, fruit) full of frivolity and good times (wine, cheese, icecream). If I didn't know better I'd think you were on the last day of the week before you went and did your weekly food shop."

(At this point I should mention I was busy rifling through my empty pantry looking for the takeaway menus...)

"Except I do know better - the fridge is like this regardless of what day it is because you don't like to plan ahead, you buy on a day to day basis because you know if you dare to buy more than a day's worth of food at a time it will be wasted because you'll blow it off in favour of dressing up and eating out. There's not even breakfast foods because you never get out of bed early enough to eat at home so your cereal and toast lives at the office".

A stark contrast to what it looks like when my housemate is home. My housemate being an organised, responsible individual that reguarly whips up a storm on a Sunday afternoon in order to divvy it up between 5 tupperware containers which she then freezes and leaves in our freezer AND her office freezer - just in case she ever gets caught out...

Even the white goods are out to expose me for the undomestic, irresposible, lazy, day-to-day person that I am. Damn.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Chai guy, not a shy guy

Am I the only one that develops embarrassing girl crushes on barista's? On the whole I don't expose myself to them all that often as I've a penchant for tea, not coffee, however I do find that tea drinkers are few and far between in the modern day office environment and thus, I seem to end up going out for an awful lot of working coffee meetings...
At my previous place of employment there was very little to look at around the office and even less outside of it apart from this one coffee shop in the building across the street which housed a rather fetching young man frothing the milk.
Having forced myself to develop a liking for a beverage that wasn't coffee but still required the skills of a professional, I developed a litre a day addiction to skinny chai lattes (for the record - there is actually nothing skinny about having 2 large cups a day, 5 days a week).
After 3 long months of ordering 2 chai lattes every single day and trying to squeeze in 30 seconds worth of witty banter between orders, chai guy finally asked me out.
Turns out there really wasn't much more to him than the wonderful things he could do with a pot of honey, a teaspoon of cinnamon and some chai powder. The deal breaker, (apart from the total lack of conversation and intelligence) was that he had more tattoos than you could poke a stick should always be suspicious of people that feel it necessary to tattoo the names of thier family members all over thier body. I mean, are they worried they will forget them? Especially when you have not one or two siblings, but SEVEN. In the presence of such an obscenely large family I would normally speculate that he was Catholic; but there was nothing religious about chai guy.

Definitely for the best, I was in danger of becoming lactose intolerant anyway.

But now I find myself again faking a coffee habit (you can't drink English Breakfast in an Italian cafe) and having to attend coffee meetings at my new boss's favourite coffee shop where I am quite literally driven to distraction by the owner. Picture a tall, dark and ridiculously handsome 30-something alpha male that swans around flexing his enormous biceps and being all Italian and broody. Not only am I unable to focus on anything work related in these meetings, but I literally blush and go weak at the knees when he walks past; and you can forget about actually being able to order anything. As soon as he opens his mouth and pours out a list of ingredients in Italian, I'm on the floor.

Quite pathetic really for a 27 yr old to be so completely useless. For the sake of my productivity though, I really do feel we may need to find a new coffee shop.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

My first friend...

There's a lot to be said for the people who've known you your whole life. There's never any awkward pauses or explanations necessary. They know everything there is to know about where you came from, what sort of childhood you had, what your parents were like. They knew your first cat (Mog), your first puppy (Rude), all the pet lambs (all called Fred), they fell off your first horse (Dusty) and your second(Gaytime Goodtime, Gay for short) and they dinkied you on your Dad's motorbike even before you could drive it yourself.

They remember what it was like growing up in your house, on your farm, because they grew up there too. They remember when you and your older sister still shared a room and you decided to divide it with masking tape (forgetting that your wardrobe was actually on her side...). They know your shocking karaoke attempts go all the way back to singing along to the Decore ads in the bath you shared. They know your mood swings started long before you even had your first period, way, way back when you used to crack it McEnroe-style playing tennis on your family court.

They shared numourous Xmas Eve's with you at the neighbours annual party, lying on the trampoline come midnight waiting for Father Christmas to sail over in his sleigh.

They were there when you had your first ciggie and nearly choked to death, they took you out of boarding school and introduced you to all thier friends, got you drunk, licked thier ID stamp and rubbed it on your arm to get you into the pub when you were underage.

They spoke at your 21st, you spoke at thiers. They stayed on the phone for hours on end listening to you pour your heart out when it first got broken - even when they lived in London and you were still at home.

They know your family so well they will always be part of it. They were there to play with you after school and on weekends. They know you hate horror movies because they forced you to watch The Burbs when you were 8 yrs old (the image of the house going up in flames will forever be etched in my brain).

They know you love Vegemite because they remember you used to steal extra pieces of Tip Top and smother them in butter and vegemite when you thought they weren't looking.

You tell them things you would never tell anyone else and you held thier secrets for years until they were ready to let them out. They never judge. They just listen. They know how you take your tea and they know when you need a cup. And they know when tea won't cut it and wine will have to step up.

They understand you and know you almost better than you know yourself. They are like a sister to you but they know you much better because they stayed with you when your real sisters went away to boarding school.

So when you call them from across the country to tell them your sad because the home you both grew up in is about to change hands, they get it. They just know, because they would feel the same way. Because they know every nook and cranny as well as you and because a little part of them feels like they are losing it too.

They are your best friend. Always were, always will be. No other friendship will ever be the same because no one else met you the week you were born, before your parents even took you home. And no one else knows you for the person you were AND the person you have become xx

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

The Market

Who knew one would be subjected to judgement when shopping at the Queen Vic Market? You go there to peruse the fruit and vegetables, buy a few bananas (ok, 2 bananas), dabble in the exotic mushrooms, grab your $2 punnet of strawberries and head to the meat slautering aisle for some freshly sliced and diced foul, lamb or baby cow.

Guess again.

I made it through the fruit and veg section unscathed and my marital status unquestioned (despite only purchasing 2 bananas and 2 apples), only to take a stroll down Judgement Lane upon reaching the butcher.

Having eyed off a succulent looking piece of Porterhouse I waved the attendant over (does anyone know if a female butcher is known as a 'butcheress'?) gave her a smile and asked if she may be so kind as to sell me a steak. Yes, single, solo, one.
"How many miss?" she boomed at the top of her lungs (sounds even worse in a Chinese accent by the way), to which I replied "just the one"...and instantly I felt that old familiar nervous flush creep up my neck and into my cheeks.

Yes I am single and unmarried and purchasing steak for one. SO WHAT? Why would I purchase 2 - I don't want to eat 2 at once nor do I care to eat it 2 nights in a row. And let's face it - I probably wouldn't be single if I was one of those girls that wrapped, packed and dated their leftovers in the freezer!

As it is I'm not that organised which is precisely why I end up in Coles almost every single night with the same shopping list scribbled on a pink post-it. (Note: buying 5 items at a time is not a cost effective way of buying groceries).

But I don't need the stifled giggles or looks of pity when I'm just trying to get my weekly red meat intake. I mean I could come in with an A4 pad of paper, buy a meat medley for my de-facto and our 3 bastard offspring if I really didn't want to be single but I choose to hold out for THE ONE. And as yet he hasn't shown himself. Hence, thus and therefore I will continue buying steak for one - hold the judgement please.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Need new jeans?

What is it about ex-sex (is that an actual word...does it need the hyphen?) that's so appealing? Is it because you know you really shouldn't? Because it's a little bit naughty and a little bit nice? I think it's that it's a little bit forbidden.

I think it's the fact that it's a little bit like an affair; so long as neither of you actually want to get back together then it can be quite thrilling because you know it's bad but not as bad as cheating. You can have a one night stand without increasing your numbers - plus, you know where everything goes!

I'd liken it to realising you fit into an old pair of jeans; you've outgrown them, so you pack them away at the back of your wardrobe - JUST IN CASE. Then one fine and skinny day, you stumble across them and suddenly they're like new again, except you've already worn them in.
You think they made you look hot (when in reality they were too tight and stunted your growth) so you throw them on forgetting that rather than highlighting your assets they exposed all your flaws. Even knowing friends will give you sideways glances and remind you that there was a reason you flung them to the back of the wardrobe doesn't stop you...but if you really didn't want them, or you really believed you would never wear them again you would have thrown them in the Good Sammys bin, cut them up and made them into shorts or lent them to a skinnier friend (NOT RECOMMENDED).

That's the thing about past trends; they just keep on coming back. Even if they weren't flattering the first time and didn't bring out the best in you, you'll most likely forget and put them back in rotation for another season...

Monday, May 3, 2010

The 'non-plan' plan

It's slowly starting to dawn on me that I need to start acting my age. With only 3 months to go until I hit 28 it has come to my attention that unless I want to keep making friends with people younger than me I run the risk of my friends passing me by in all of life's major checkpoints.
I'm not very good at planning ahead, I prefer waking up each day not really knowing what is going to happen, but then maybe that just means I'm on the "non-plan" plan...maybe that's not being spontaneous but irresponsible.
Maybe my carefree existance right now is only going to result in me being left behind by all the people I love as they grow up and slowly check off all the things we are expected to do at certain times and certain ages.
I think I am slowly starting to get over the person I've ended up being. I wonder if that is the result of growing up such a shy, goody two shoes terrified of getting in trouble and then realising that the world after 18 requires you to set your OWN boundaries?
I think it's high time I put some in place.

Things I strongly dislike:

Running the Tan on a Monday night.
Guys that run the Tan on a Monday night sans shirt.
Waking up on a Sunday morning not knowing what took place between 1am and 4am.
Electrocuting myself with a homemade stove lighter.
Tripping up the curb.
Waking up on a Sunday and remembering what happened between 1am and 4am.
The pencil case I am using as a clutch.
Waking up, scanning my dialled numbers and finding a completely mysterious, random phone number dialled between 1am and 4am.
Getting my heel stuck in the cracks on Bourke St and not realising for 3 metres.
Trying to yank my heel out of the crack on Bourke St without breaking the whole thing off.
Slamming my hair in the car door.
Realising it is time to grow up.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Location, location

Dating Myth number 1: he arranges to catch up in a pub, 600m from your house and 10kms from his because he is a considerate individual that thinks you might get lost if you have to venture beyond the postcode of your leafy green seaside paradise.

Not so. He will do this with every intention of having a few too many beers thus HAVING to crash at your house because in fact it is YOU that is the considerate one not wanting him to drive drunk. God forbid it be your fault he kills himself or someone else. So instead he ends up back at your place. Such a sneaky, underhanded, MALE thing to do.

The funniest thing about this though is that boys seem to think we're unaware when they are doing this. FYI boys - just because we may not necessarily object to this particular tactic does not mean we are not aware that it is taking place. We might be easy but we're not stupid!

Monday, April 19, 2010


Do so love a good debrief after a night out with friends. Especially when I woke up and gave myself a good old fashioned pat on the back for not getting TOO CRAZY on Friday night.
That was before the debrief when I was reminded that Phil Collins got the better of me with In the Air Tonight. What a great song, well deserving of a good hair toss and heartfelt, out of tune warbling at a popular local nightspot. Did I mention it took place onstage? Whilst the singer tried to avoid being flicked in the face with my ponytail??
Unsure whether that was before or after I chipped charming English man-friend's front tooth whilst pirouetting wildly out of control across the dance floor (in my defence, that was partly his fault, he should know by now I get dizzy after a few champagnes).
Love dancing. I say dancing, but the general consensus seems to be that it's more of a cross between 80's aerobics with a little bit of the mash potato and head banging thrown in for good measure. Perhaps if I start going out in a leotard and sweat bands people will get in lines and follow my lead?
Same man-friend packed me into a taxi - thankgod - after rousing me from my slumber on the club couch.
I thought it was a fairly quiet night.WHOOPSY DAISIES.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

A butter knife, a hanger and a set of keys...

Thursday April 15:

6:30pm: Having answered the phone to listen to best man friend's latest dating drama (which involved him trying to distinguish whether he was about to embark on a date or a friendly catchup) I leapt from my car, lamb chops and tea bags in hand, only to slam the door at the exact moment I realised I had locked the car for the first time in a week leaving the keys in the ignition...bugger.
6:38pm: cursed man friend and his dating dramas.
6:40pm: Decided it wasn't worth delaying dinner (lamb chops and steamed veges with lashings of butter) and went inside only to have lovely roomate point out that leaving the keys in the ignition until I could be bothered getting them out (was thinking of tackling it on Saturday morning) WASN'T a great idea.
7:15pm: inhaled dinner. Cannot eat lamb slowly.
7:20pm: fossicked around for some sort of material with which to break into own car.
7:25pm: armed with a butter knife, a credit card and a ribbon I began the delicate process of trying to wedge the butter knife into the door seal.
7:30pm: car drives past slowly...
7:35pm: same car returns, offers assistance in the shape of a burly young man and a coat hanger.
8pm: finally he pops the lock after getting his sweat on for 25 minutes.
Derek from number 109, you're my HERO.

The Jumper

Haven't wasted a thought on Dumper since he dumped me for the second time UNTIL, lovely roomate that is romantically involved with Dumper's best friend informed me this evening that he wants his jumper back. I DON'T THINK SO! Not only is it the most comfortable item of clothing in my possession outside of my pyjamas and the 3 pack undies special from Coles, but I think an old, faded, but perfectly worn in hoodie is a small sacrifice, I mean throw a girl a bone, at least let me be comfortable!

Begs the question though - is an exchange of all personal effects totally necessary at the conclusion of a relationship? I mean if one party really liked one item then why bother getting it back if YOU didn't really care about it? I mean I'm happy for him to hang onto my ten yr old backup mobile phone with the dicky battery??!!!! Never mind that I'm cleaning the bathtub with his toothbrush...

I suppose one is usually more than happy to give back items which are of no use to them or which induce sad memories and nostalgic flashbacks. Neither of those situations apply here; I just don't think I am willing to give up a jumper that's been so perfectly worn in! If it reminded me of DUMPER and his dumping ways or if it reduced me to tears I'd be forced to let it go, but it's just so darn COMFORTABLE.
In fact - potentially the best thing to come out of our short lived but dramatic affair is this ratty old jumper.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Spider bite

Disaster: have wedding to attend in 24 hours and a volcano has erupted on my left cheek. I suspect some spider or other minute creature had some kind of RAVE on my face whilst I slept last night.....cheek is swollen as though it's been punched with a knuckle ring, perhaps this spider was inspired by Mr T. Took the suggestion of friends to do a late night run to the 24 hour chemist, plead case with the unsympathetic 80yr old woman doing the graveyard shift. Whilst holding my left hand behind my back, frantically informed her of my plight - getting married tomorrow (why let the truth get in the way of a good story), have massive blemish on face, must get rid of it ASAP or risk losing (faux) husband.
She peered at me suspiciously from behind her counter and told me to simply 'let it be, i'm sure it will go away if you just don't scratch it dear.'
Apparently even being a bride doesn't get you any hard core blemish eradicating drugs. Either that or I'm just a rubbish actress.
Eventually after much pleading and begging she fished some sort of useless gel off the shelf and told me to apply it liberally. I have. It's not working. So apologies to the real bride who foolishly has me and my deformed face standing in front of the crowd doing the world's longest reading, but I hope your photographer is not opposed to airbrushing.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

The Poolhouse

Once upon a time, in my hometown, there was a girl who met a boy and continued to occasionally meet him when both parties were out and about and very drunk. One such meeting led to the girl and the boy sleeping over in the poolhouse of his parents house in the burbs. When morning broke and the harsh reality that was the poolhouse mattress cast a shadow over the previous evening's romance, the boy said to the girl that he had to go inside and get dressed for his dad's 60th birthday brunch...
Tick, tock, tick, tock - an hour ticked past in the poolhouse and the girl realised she'd been FORGOTTEN and thus was forced to scale the 1.5m back fence in order to she threw her handbag over, hiked up her mini skirt and scrambled over in her knee high boots.
Boy goes to brunch, girl walks half the way home before flagging a cab and 3 years later girl says to boy "you know you left me in the poolhouse 3 yrs ago?" recollection...He forgot 3 yrs before and simply never remembered. Needless to say, boy and girl will not be going to the chapel anytime soon.


What is with the recent revelations that men want to be swept off thier feet?! I thought MEN were meant to be doing the sweeping not women. I don't want to be the sweeper, I hate sweeping, I want to be swept, they can't have it all, at least leave us with one last fairytale dream...besides, I would struggle to pick up most men, I'm too SMALL & WEAK which is why I'M supposed to be the one being swept off MY feet!!!! I am light and very sweepable!
This is the second male I have heard in the past month saying that he wants to be swept away by a woman. I find this confusing - can someone please clarify how a woman is supposed to sweep a man off his feet when men supposedly are the ones that like to chase?
This is MY fairytale ending, you can't rewrite it because you've decided you want to be Cinderella. There is a reason it's PRINCE Charming...I mean, Princess Charming? Really? Sounds RIDICULOUS!

Monday, March 29, 2010

You can't hide those lying eyes...

What does one ever hope to achieve telling a big fat fib when one actually knows there is a very high chance one will get busted very, very shortly afterward? Is it that we are lying to ourselves as we lie to someone else, trapped in our own delusional little world of denial where nothing you have done will ever escape the confines of your own mind....except in the case where you have actually confessed to someone else or someone has SEEN you.....because then there really is no escape and the truth has a very annoying way of coming out.
And isn't it ironic that it is usually the one person you want to trust you the most that you end up lying so thouroughly to? I think trust is a funny thing. Some people place such emphasis on it, others are quick to trust to the point of being naive and thus usually don't place as much importance on it as those that take a little longer to decide. And trust is the lifelong partner of forgiveness isn't it? I mean those that trust easily are usually the same suckers that forgive pretty easily too. And unfortunately, if you trust easy and forgive easy you can sometimes forget that others don't.
I lied. I was so busy trying to cover my ass that I behaved like an ass and lied straight to his face, even though I'd told 80% of the truth - that last 20% was the real cracker and I couldn't just stand up and stand by my actions. I had to go and lie like Pinnochio and within 24 hours he was asking me again and this time I had to tell the truth and now I think I may have ruined it all.
But then maybe, just maybe I did this to deliberately nuke my feelings so at least now I can say "we didn't get back together because I lied and he couldn't forgive me".....maybe I did it because now I feel like there is a tangible reason as to why it's not going to work, maybe this is the only way I can ever get over it.
I didn't cheat; but I did lie and I really wish I hadn't. Turns out I have a tremendous talent for sabotaging every single relationship I have ever been in. It's what I do.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Risky Business

Waking up and realising one did not sleep the night in one's own bed is one thing. Waking up, getting dressed and realising you were drunk when you got dressed the night before is quite another. Because why else would you allow yourself to head out in a white men's business shirt and black heels unless you thought you were going to a casting for the remake of Risky Business??
And then why, oh why not put your slip back on knowing that there is a slim possibility that he may suggest coffee when you stumble out the front door of his building because you know, yes you KNOW the men's shirt is transparent in the light...especially BROAD DAYLIGHT on the main street of the neighboring suburb. At least I was in the same postcode. Small win.
I suppose the answer to both these questions is that I often lack the thought process that goes behind making a socially appropriate decision and instead go with the one that will entertain me for the next 60 minutes.
And it did. Me and the dozen lucky people who caught sight of me walking along looking like a stripper at 11am with a birdsnest on my head and my slip in my hand. Oh and a long island iced tea down the front of my men's shirt...

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Groundhog Day

Hmmm yet another evening playing platonic friends. Kind of like...groundhog day. Admittedly it's rather enjoyable, plus my iron levels are skyrocketing with all this steak we keep eating...if you want a recommendation for a good steak night venue in Melbourne, just ask me. And I'm really getting my snooker eye in. Was thankfully spared having to fulfill the threat of the nudie run upon losing - whilst I'd like to think this is because he is a gentleman I think it more likely that he remembers just how disgraceful my undie collection is and deemed it unfit for public exposure. Probably the only time buying my undies at Coles will work in my favour. Hmmmm, perhaps he DITCHED me because of my affection for a good pair of Cottontails.
I must say that having a special platonic man friend 2km's own the road has it's advantages - the almost completely deflated front tyre of my car is now fully inflated as are the other 3, all of a sudden it's like I actually have power steering - reason enough to break up and be friends in itself. And lovely roommate can now ride her bike again as it turns out Dumper is rather handy with a pair of boltcutters. Do so love a man wielding a large tool...
And so it continues, the friendly dance that takes place whilst we try and figure out whether being just friends will be enough...

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

The Epiphany

Huh. Maybe I'm starting to get over it. Actually, I don't want to brag, but maybe I'm ALREADY over it... Usually in these times of self-indulgence (read: when I get DITCHED) watching a very soapy soap opera on TV would reduce me to a blubbering mess, and ok, I DID kind of tear up a little when Senator McAllister said he was withdrawing from his run for governor to spend more time with Kitty, but seriously, usually I would have been snuffling like a pug and popping on the kettle but no. No tears, just a mild tightening of the chest. And surely that can be blamed on Callista Flockhart's fine acting, or alternatively, if nothing else, Rob Lowe's devastatingly handsome face and sparkling eyes?? I mean imagine if Tony Abbott was that one would complain about seeing pictures of him in his budgie smugglers then.
It begs the question - how caught up and preoccupied do we get in relationships that last, in the grand scheme of life - for about ten seconds? A few months is not a long time and yet when your in it you can spend ten minute blocks(ok, hours) daydreaming about how AMAZING your life will be with them. What a load of BOLLOCKS.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Parental post

Does anyone else find it amusing that my mother sends me articles all the way from Perth on the latest STD statistics with a Post It note attached reading 'Hi Flossy, thought you should read this...and when you've finished send it back to me so I can give it to your sister'. My sister, who is married to...a DOCTOR.

In contrast, whilst Mum is busy researching and mailing the latest health stats, Dad is busy cutting out real estate ads and mailing them over with the required loan repayments I would need to make on various apartments and town houses across Perth and Melbourne...

Bless thier cotton socks, I'd be lost without them.

Friend v foe

We met. We drank. We got merry, we broke bread, we played a few games of pool peppered with innuendo and a lot of laughter...but is that what constitutes a friendship or is that 2 people who just broke up still lurking around in the grey area between being 'ex's' and 'just friends'?
Because really the only difference between the first official friendly catchup and when we were dating was that there was no sex (boooooo). It was almost like pressing rewind and going all the way back to date number one when you thought everything he said was HILARIOUS and everything you did was captivating and everybody loved life and no one wanted it to end.
Except it did. It ended with both parties heading home, a bit drunk, actually make that a lot drunk...and I for one forgot the actual parts of the evening where words of any meaning were exchanged so perhaps it really was a pointless exercise.
And is being friends so soon going to help or hinder? Maybe listening to the girl who got married is a better option - maybe I should be giving it a proper break and reassessing whether I can and SHOULD be friends or whether I should just forget it entirely.
Maybe then, and only then, will I come to realise what everyone else seems to already be thinking. Maybe he actually IS a bit of a horses arse.